Sienna’s watching me intently. Pointing at me, she accuses, “You were just thinking about him, weren’t you? And I’m talking about an I-wanna-jump-his-bones-kind-of thought.”
I groan. “How do men manage to do this to us? I mean, I know I have no desire to date a man like him, and yet I can’t help but think about him.”
She mimics my groan. “I feel ya, sister. I think God wanted some fun so he dreamt up ways for men to irritate women and now he just sits back and has a good laugh at our expense.”
Her phone rings, interrupting us, and I listen as she has what appears to be a pissed-off conversation. When she ends the call, she looks at me with that look she gives when she wants something. “You love me lots, right?”
“What do you need?”
She grins. “I’m supposed to be taking my nephew to soccer practice this afternoon, but my mum just called and she needs someone to pick her up from the hospital. I’m the only one who can do it. I would love you forever if you took Tony to practice.”
“What time?” It’s nearly four already.
She pulls a pained face. “You’d have to leave in the next ten minutes. You’d just have to pick him up from my brother, get him there and then stay until I arrive after I get my mum home.”
I stand. “It?
?s no worries. I’m finished my work for today.”
The relief is clear on her face. “I’ll shout you dinner after practice if you’re up for it.”
“If I’m up for it?”
She laughs and says with a wink, “The kids all go to McDonalds afterwards, so it’d be a burger. Or you could just skip that and go straight for a sundae.”
“I haven’t had a sundae for years. You can shout me dinner.”
* * *
We make it to soccer practice five minutes late. I’m stressed because running late for anything always knots my stomach with worry. Tony, on the other hand, just shrugs and thanks me for bringing him. He then runs ahead of me so he can join his team on the field.
I wander to where the parents are standing to watch their kids. It’s an under-nines' game and by the looks of it, most of the parents are settled on chairs they’ve brought with them. Probably old hands at this by now. They’re all engrossed either in watching their child or on their phone.
That is, except for one mother.
I eye her and bite back a laugh. I’m guessing from what she’s wearing and her perfect blonde hair and face that she just came from the office, but she’s projecting frazzled vibes. A young girl, probably about four or five, is doing laps around her refusing to conform to the woman’s wishes.
As I move closer, I hear the woman shriek, “Sadie, if you don’t sit down now and stop making all that noise, there will be no McDonalds tonight!”
Sadie immediately stops what she’s doing. Her bottom lip quivers and her face crumples. “I want McDonalds, Mummy. I want to go there with Uncle A—”
Her mother appears to be all out of patience and cuts the child off. “Well sit down and be quiet.”
Sadie finally does as she’s told and as the woman lets out a long breath of relief, she sees me watching. Grimacing, she says, “Unfortunately bribery is my chosen method of parenting. Please don’t judge me.”
Something that doesn’t happen often occurs—a memory of my mother flashes through my mind. I picture the two of us laughing at McDonalds after she took me to netball practice. I suck in a breath. This was right before she died.
I let the memory consume me, the world becoming non-existent in that moment. It’s not until the woman touches me on the arm that I realise I got lost in my thoughts.
“Are you okay?” she asks, her voice full of warmth.
Smiling, I nod. “Yeah… I just got lost there for a second. And I try never to judge anyone, especially parents.”
“Happens to the best of us. Some of us get lost for full nights at a time.”
I frown, not quite sure where she’s coming from with the last part of that.
She waves in the air and says, “Kids. Husbands. You’ll understand one day.”