"What do you think you’re doing?" Sadie crosses her arms and glares at me.
"Oh, hello ma’am. Nice to meet you. What’s your name?" I hold out my hand to her, and Sadie furrows her eyebrows.
"Max—"
"Wow, that’s so weird. My name is Max, too." I keep holding my hand out toward her as the walk sign illuminates and people shuffle around us. "But people usually call me Mr. Altruistic."
Sadie rolls her eyes again, but there’s a small smile threatening to break free on her lips. Instead of saying anything, she darts across the street, opens the door to a sleek black sedan, and slips inside.
When she fires it up, she rolls down the window and pushes her hand out in a wave.
"Until next time, Max!"
seven
Sadie
The Pothole
"Okay, so you need to make sure that you don’t agree to anything just yet." I twirl a piece of my hair as I pace my childhood bedroom.
Levi crunches on whatever he’s eating, not responding to my statement.
"Are you listening?" This is clearly more important to me than it is to him.
"Oh, sorry, yeah. Just trying to get some breakfast in at the same time." He goes silent once again, and I hope it’s because he’s washing down whatever it was with a drink. "What would agreeing to something look like?"
I shake my head, trying to stuff down the groan that’s dying to escape. "Who did you promise?"
I love the guy, and he’s a great boss. But also, he’s a sucker for kids, always showing up with jerseys or promising things I will need to find a way to deliver. You’d think for someone that puts grown men in their place for a living, he’d be a little better at negotiating.
"I wouldn’t say I promised anyone specifically. But the coach from Coop’s team hinted around about having another player get the spotlight, and well—"
"That would be a no, Coach Montgomery. I know that it’s the easiest and goes a long way for your kid, but we have to spread it out. Make it fair for other teams." I plop down on my bed, the springs bellowing from age and a bed frame that’s worn far past the point of squeaking. I wince, hoping he didn’t hear it.
Levi sighs. "I know. And look, I only said I would see what I could do." He must be leaving, likely headed to the arena, as a door shuts in the background. "We’ll cross that bridge when the time comes."
"Whenisthe time going to come?" I shouldn’t pester him about coming back, it’s not even been a full week. But this is exactly the reason I should be there instead of staring at the poster of a young Chad Michael Murray plastered to my ceiling. "I need to work, and you need me to work. It seems pretty simple to me."
"About that…" Levi’s voice deepens to a more serious tone, and I imagine him glowering at the phone. Despite only being a stepdad for a few months, he’s got the dad-voice nailed down. "What have you been doing to learn to live a little?"
Giving a guy I used to tutor bloody noses? Or should I go with trying to ditch a book that’s following me around?
Straightening my shoulders, as if he can see me, I take a deep breath. "I bought a couple of books yesterday and got ice cream from a truck."
"Wow, riveting," he chuckles. "You need to embrace this whole thing, Sadie. I’m not going to get into why it’s so important, I think we both already know what happened."
"A panic attack."
"Yeah, but you need to understand why it happened. And don’t give me some lame-ass excuse like you took on too much. I’ve seen you balance a hundred different tasks without breaking a sweat. Sometimes we get so focused on the goal, the achievement, the fucking trophy—that we miss the whole point of why we wanted it so badly in the first place."
I don’t disagree with him thathemay have struggled with determining why he set the goals he did and what he sacrificed to achieve them. Yet, I don’t feel that way about myself. I’ve always been so clear on where I saw my life going—never without a solid five-year life plan. There’s never been a moment that I've regretted missing a night out, a dinner with friends, or losing a relationship over my work schedule.
"What do I need to do to convince you that I’m ready to come back?"
Please, just give me a checklist.
I can almost hear him thinking, the gears grinding in his head. "Give up control. Get out of your comfort zone. Go do something that scares you."