Kaitlin

Whew! Just back from the Eagle. Tons o’ bags of groceries to bring in.

By myself.

The boy is at indoor soccer practice.

I gotta tell ya, this whole single mother thing is, like… really hard!

Not that Jason ever did anything. But somehow, it just like, you know, feels different.

Plus, I am poor now.

I never used to have to worry about how much was in my checking account. It all just kind of worked out somehow. I was terrible about balancing my checkbook. I always just figured that the bank would be right. I mean, THEY were the ones who were experts about money. Right?

Now I have to pay STRICT attention.

Not because the bankers aren’t experts. But rather because I don’t have that much in there, and I can go through it faster than I can put it in.

Which would be a gross understatement.

And the cost of living is kind of, rather, I mean, like WAY high here.

You might wonder why I live here then.

Born here. Grew up here. Moved back here. After the “the vorce.” I read that in a book as a little kid, about this little kid whose family was going through a divorce and he kept calling it “the the vorce.” He was pretty young, and he couldn’t figure out why the word “vorce” got TWO “the”s in front of it, but it must be pretty important if it did. I thought that was touching at the time, in a weird, realistic sort of way. Kind of like how I always thought the famous football player for the Steelers was “Frank O’Harris,” an Irish African-American, I guess. And the general in charge of the entire Confederate Army was “Robert Ealy.” Weird how kids perceive things, huh? I mean, there used to be an A&P here when I was a little kid, and I always thought there was a word in the English language: “Ayunpee.” It meant: place to buy groceries.

Have got to go pick up Rad at 5. They practice from 4 to 5. He walked over to the indoor soccer place – it was an ice rink when I was growing up. When we all took ice skating lessons after school and drank the tongue-burning hot chocolate that came out of a vending machine and imagined we would grow up to be Dorothy Hamill. Even if our hair would never look that way. Rad walked over from school. It’s only a couple of blocks, but he has to cross the highway. Which I don’t let him do. He has to take the side street that leads to the tunnel that goes UNDER the highway. ‘Cause he is only twelve and I am over-protective and if I lost him I would die. There was this kid, the older brother of a girl in my class growing up, who died crossing the highway. He was hit by a motorcycle. I guess neither one of them saw the other. It was probably dusk. He didn’t die right away. It was terrible. We all thought he would be OK. That he would get better. But he didn’t. He died. It was awful. I remember going to the funeral home. He was laid out in an open casket, his longish blond hair slicked back over his unrealistically pale white face, a lacrosse stick at his side, inside the casket. It was surreal. It was scary. It was sad. I will never forget it.

So, I kind of have this thing about the highway. Rad is not allowed to cross it. No how, no way, uh-uh. Never. End of discussion.

Hell, I won’t even cross it on foot.

I am going to drive to pick up Rad and his friend Boover. Boover Hoover. Don’t ask. It is one of those weird Delphi things. His real name is like Byron Chauncy Hoover IV. I know. Totally weird. But I know Boover’s dad, Trey. Who, of course, is Byron Chauncy Hoover III. We went to school together. Trey is like way rich. Not because of anything he has done. Except be born into an incredibly wealthy family. Trey is a nice guy, don’t get me wrong. Just not terribly bright.

He makes me laugh, though! Which is a plus. And he knows he is one lucky ass s.o.b. He is nice to me. And we can talk to each other. His wife, Majestic – I kid you not! – left him for the golf pro at the country club. Kind of created a scandal that Byron Chauncy Hoover, Jr. – ole B.C. -- just hasn’t quite gotten over yet. Even though he himself is on wife number three, a woman half his age who used to be his secretary, or his secretary’s secretary, or something equally scandalous. I dunno. Whatever passed for scandalous back in the late seventies amongst grown ups in Delphi.

Gosh, where has the time gone? Gotta go pick up the boys.

Any more frozen stuff that still needs to get put away? Nope. Nah. Think I got it all. The canned crap can wait til later. Lunch meat, milk, eggs, all in the fridge. Yep. Good to go.

I’m outta here!