her. Who knew what she’d find there? Even if she didn’t get the job, it would be nice to have a clean garage.
She folded the paper and stuffed it back in her bag. Fred reappeared with two cups of coffee. He handed her a cup. “With milk, like you like it. First game starts at nine-twenty. David’s the starting goalie.”
“Thanks,” she said.
“I’ll be back.” He pulled a cigarette pack out of his shirt pocket and walked toward the other smokers huddled at the end of the field. Annie dug through her bag and picked up the news magazine. It was going to be a long day. She’d settle back and enjoy the warmth of the early California spring for a while and gear up to cheer David to victory.
The day passed as most soccer tournament days did — long periods of boredom punctuated by moments of frenzy. She screamed every time the ball came close to the end zone. The parents chorused long groans when the ball flew into the net inches from David’s outstretched glove, their cheers lifting when he threw himself on the ground to block a goal.
At the end of the day, his team came in second in the overall tournament.
“Great job!” Fred gave his son a bear hug. “I’m really proud of you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” David beamed in his father’s praise. “I’m really working hard with the coach.”
Annie hugged her son, too. “You’re terrific,” she whispered in David’s ear.
Fred helped them load up the gear in the back of the car. “See you Wednesday,” he said, giving David a pat on the back. Then he turned to walk back to his car.
She hopped into her seat and began the long drive home, with David snoring gently in the back seat. What was the best way to tell David about the potential move? When he woke up about halfway home, she thought about saying something before they got there. Before she could start, however, he began reliving the game for her, his arms gesturing as he explained the plays, his voice animated as he reenacted his saves.
She couldn’t burst his bubble.
Once they got home, he went straight to the shower. Lugging the leftover groceries upstairs by herself gave her a few more minutes’ respite before she broke the news. She paced the kitchen, opening cupboards, staring at the contents, and closing the doors again. Picking up a used envelope, she began to write a shopping list. After “milk,” she couldn’t think of another thing she needed.
She had to get this over with. Sooner or later, Elizabeth would let something slip and then David would be angry with her for keeping secrets.
Once she told David, the next thing on her list was to tell Fred.
Annie sank into a chair. How would Fred react? Would he fight her? Try to take David away from her? No way. Her ex could barely support himself in this town of high rents and even higher house prices. He wouldn’t be able to support a growing teenage son.
But Fred loved his son. His reaction would depend on how much he’d had to drink. I’ll pick my time carefully. But is it better to approach him when he’s a happy drunk or when he has a miserable hangover?
Her son walked into the kitchen a few minutes later, filling the small room with his presence. He wasn’t extra tall or overweight, but over the last few years, he’d reached five-feet nine-inches and filled out. His broad shoulders and thin waist reminded her of how her dad had looked, although her dad had been at least six feet tall.
David grabbed a pot and two plastic bags of Top Ramen from the bin where Annie kept a large supply. She bought it by the box load. It was a cheap supply of nourishment that he and his friends were willing to cook.
She drank in every aspect of her son as he moved about the kitchen, knowing she was about to rock his safe world. There wasn’t going to be a good way to tell him.
After he filled his bowl, David sat down and looked at his mother. “What’s up?” he asked, slurping a spoonful of noodles. “You look funny.”
“How would you
Learning to Kill: Stories