That was my kid.
“Send the jet. I can fly out in the morning,” I said to Libby, wondering what JT would think if he could see the company’s private jet, if he could see my impressive house built into the side of a cliff overlooking Ashland, if he could see the corporation I’d built, see the press that had forced me to use a false name here so that no one would realize who I really was before I had a chance to tell JT the truth about me, about our relationship.
I needed to tell him soon. The truth was becoming a burden I wasn’t sure I could carry much longer.
But then I thought about Penelope, and a part of me wanted to hide the truth for a while longer if it meant protecting her from a reality she wasn’t prepared to face. I don’t know why I should care about some small town girl who’d made her own bed. She could have taken JT to New York, could have kept her job, her tiny apartment with a plush address. She would still have those things that had clearly meant so much to her. It wasn’t my fault she’d made the choices she had.
Yet, I still felt bad when I thought about the moment when I would leave this small town with JT.
I hung up and made my way back into the stands just as the refs called halftime. Penelope was talking to some older man, smiling through the exhaustion that clouded her face. Another teacher from the high school waved me over, asking about a staff meeting that took place that afternoon. It took me a minute to get her caught up, earning myself a grateful smile and another tally mark on the cooperative coworker column. Penelope was once again alone when I slid back into my seat beside her.
“Some half,” I said.
She nodded. “JT’s on fire tonight.”
“Must be all that rest he’s getting in my class.”
She stiffened and I immediately regretted the quip. But before I could say anything, JT came running up into the stands still in full uniform.
“Hey, sis,” he said, sliding backward onto the bench in front of us. “What did you think of that?”
Penelope’s eyes burst with light as she leaned into him, a smile on her full lips.
“You were brilliant.”
“Yeah?”
“Definitely.”
He beamed. “Coach says that if I get an average of three touchdown in the rest of the games this year, I’ll make some sort of record. Isn’t that cool?”
“Very cool.”
His smile widened. It was pretty obvious Penelope’s approval was deeply important to him. It changed the dynamics I’d thought existed between the two of them. I had assumed things were more contentious than they clearly were. I had thought that taking him away wouldn’t matter as much to him. But now I was having a few more doubts.
“Listen,” JT said, leaning close enough to Penelope that his sweaty forehead was nearly touching hers, “Sean’s having a party at his house after the game. Would it be okay if I go for a couple of hours? I promise I’ll be in bed by two.”
Penelope’s shoulders tightened. “You have chores that need to be done.”
“I know. I promise I’ll do them tomorrow. All of them.”
“Even cleaning your bathroom?”
JT groaned, but he nodded. “Even the bathroom.”
Penelope smiled, though the tension in her shoulders stayed. “You’ll text me when you get there and you’ll text me if you’re going to be late.”
“Of course.”
“Okay.”
JT burst into a huge grin that reminded me of the one I often flashed when I got what I wanted at his age. He leaned close and kissed Penelope on the cheek.
“Thanks!”
He ran off without acknowledging my presence, calling out to one of the cheerleaders as he headed back to the dressing room where the rest of the team was hanging out during halftime. Penelope and I both watched him go, likely both lost in very different thoughts. Then she glanced at me, a guarded look in her eyes.
“I guess you don’t approve. But I’ve learned that you sometimes have to bend the rules a little to get him to follow them at all.”
“No. I get it.”
“He really is a good kid. He’s just…”
“A teenager.”
She nodded. “A teenager who’s been through an awful lot these last few years. The night our parents died, he was at home alone when the police came to make the notification. And I couldn’t get a direct flight, so he was pretty much on his own for forty-eight hours afterward. That’s a lot to ask a twelve year old to deal with. Then the funeral and everything that came after…I tried to protect him from the reality of our situation as best as I could, but he is pretty intuitive.”
“I’m sure he is.”
“It’s been hard. So if sleeping in class is the worst of it, I think that’s pretty good.”