Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 576(@200wpm)___ 461(@250wpm)___ 384(@300wpm)
I pass the living room, where Kyle is napping in my lounger with the football game droning in the background. His Sunday routine has been the same for as long as I can remember: armchair quarterback. He sleeps through 50 percent of the game, but the second anyone changes the channel, his eyes pop open. I leave him where he is for now and continue to the kitchen, where Karen is sitting at the table with Peyton, her math workbook in front of her. Peyton looks about as excited as a dead fish.
“Hey, how’s it going?”
“Dad!” Peyton jumps up from the table and rushes across the room, throwing her arms around me like I’m a life preserver. “Yay! You’re home! Does that mean we can go to the park now? Can we call Harley and ask her to meet us there? Can we go to that bakery with the sugar cookies?”
Every word out of her mouth makes me cringe and makes Karen’s scowl deepen. “We have three more questions to finish before we can do anything, especially go to the park. And I’m only here for a few more hours, honey. I’d love to spend my afternoon with you. We could go to the museum instead of the park. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
“But we always go to the park with Harley on Sundays,” Peyton explains.
“You only get so much Granny time, and Harley’s picking you up tomorrow after school to take you to the park.” At least I’m hopeful that’s still happening. I should’ve dealt with this sooner, like when it happened, instead of dancing around it all weekend.
“But we always see Harley on Sunday afternoons,” she says adamantly. “Can we call her and see? Can’t she come with us today? She makes everything more fun.”
“That’s because she doesn’t enforce any rules,” Karen mutters under her breath, but not quietly enough that I don’t catch it.
“Sweetie, can you take your math books to your room for me and wash your hands? I brought home a treat.” It’s time I had that talk with Karen, and I’d prefer Peyton not be in the room when it happens.
“We’re not finished with her homework yet,” Karen informs me.
“Peyton and I will finish it later. Wash your hands and wake up your grandpa, so we can all eat together.” I pat Peyton on the head and usher her down the hall.
“The math will only take fifteen minutes to finish. I don’t think giving Peyton a treat for half-finished work is setting a good example,” Karen says primly.
“The muttered comments need to stop, Karen. And you can’t talk down about Harley in front of Peyton, and you certainly shouldn’t be doing it in front of me. This isn’t about Peyton’s math homework, which she and I will finish later, after you and Kyle head home.”
Her fingers go to her throat, and she fidgets with the heart-shaped locket she always wears. Inside is a picture of Marcie. “Well, she doesn’t seem to enforce much in the way of rules, and I was just trying to be helpful with the math homework.”
“I appreciate that you want to help out, but this is about more than the math homework. I realize that things are different than they were when we lived in Boulder, but the snide remarks and undermining my parenting decisions aren’t helpful. Peyton is my daughter and what I say goes. I didn’t say anything when we were at the restaurant because I didn’t want to cause a scene or embarrass you in front of everyone, but I can’t and won’t ignore it or leave it unaddressed.”
Karen scrunches up her face. “I used to be so involved in Peyton’s life, and now this Harley woman has reappeared, and all of a sudden I feel like you’re making me out to be the bad guy. For seven years, I made all of Peyton’s after-school snacks and dinners, she and I did all her homework together so you wouldn’t have to when you picked her up from work. And there were plenty of times when you’d have to work late and she’d sleep over, and now I’m only seeing her once a month! I feel like … like I’ve lost Marcie all over again!” She blinks rapidly and turns her head, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue that was tucked into her sleeve.
And I feel like shit all over again. There’s no way I can win this. I ease off a little, trying to see this through her eyes. “I’m not trying to take your granddaughter away from you, and I know this transition isn’t easy, but the condescension and negative commentary on my lax parenting don’t make me feel particularly good. I understand that us moving here has been difficult, but crapping on my parenting isn’t a good way to make things better.”