Lowell

I find it hard to listen to Donnie when I’m pissed at something he set me up for without asking. And it wasn’t a society date to get my name in the tabloids. At least I’d have something to gain from that. Now I love hanging out with the children and doing those neighborhood events… but I have to know about it first. Not in the morning after I’ve enjoyed sleeping in for the first time this whole season knowing tomorrow will be an early day for offensive and intensive training.

“It’s a few hours, and it’s in a much nicer part of the neighborhood.”

“I don’t care about that.” I wave Donnie off, who looks as uncomfortable as I might imagine in his suit as hot as it is today. I didn’t even let him all the way in the house after he came here. He told me what was happening on the phone and came by in person to make sure I left.

I would never forego an event because I didn’t want to do it. He should have better faith in me because I know he didn’t show up to try to accompany me.

“Well, as I said, a few hours. Get the photo op and be nice to the kids.”

I make a face. “I’m always nice to them.” Some of them get grabby and smell like lunch cheese. I laugh to myself.

“I’m taking off. We can move our meeting to tomorrow after practice.” In my driveway, I move around him to get to my car parked in front of his. He gets the message and pulls out first, and I start following the navigation to the elementary school.

Most of the time I like these events as the kids’ outreach programs are what I envision myself doing. This one today was a rich, private school with the right connections that Donnie sent me off to. Either way, it’s good for the kids. I didn’t do much fun stuff growing up, not until high school when I played football, and the school paid for the equipment. Since then, I haven’t had to pay for my education or much of anything, but all the money I have now doesn’t make much difference in who I am. The fame, maybe—and probably the slew of women eager to land a football player or even an athlete. Most of the time it isn’t true, but I don’t run in the circles anymore where that isn’t the case.

Not since college and not since Charlotte.

I thought of her every day since Saturday, which was only a few days ago. But I thought I would never see her again, and I’m still surprised. And I thought it would turn out much differently if it ever did happen—that she would be angry with me or anything other than what I heard. And maybe it has been a long time, but when I looked into her eyes, I felt like she wasn’t being honest with me, but that could be all the years between us confusing me.

When I arrive at the school, I park very far away, almost a mile, and I am not bothered on the walk over. I like the neighborhood already. One of those where the houses are near the school, brick walls coming up to the roof, so all that’s visible is the satellite stand. My school was nothing like this one nor was my neighborhood. The only time I ever got out of Sunnydale was when I went to state college here.

I follow the marching orders Donnie gave me when I enter the front of the school. Their receptionist doesn’t recognize me, which makes things easier. I am shown to the Principal’s office—a woman not quite elderly but not young, probably as stern as she looks, dressed in a pantsuit and professional bun. I try not to laugh.

When I finish talking to her, I am instructed to wait for the head gym teacher, who will start the field day contest with me, and I’m told about the photo op and press who will be coming by later. I don’t think the kids signed up for quite so much for field day.

“I was only telling a story.”

“You can tell Principal Green all about it. Wait here.” A teacher, young and who does recognize me, smiles and all but makes her eyes twinkle when she drops a young girl off still going on to her.

“Kimberly, be quiet and wait here.” She turns serious again and sits her down on one of the wooden chairs next to the closed door and glances at me before she leaves, while I smile back a bit.

The kid she left is pouty as hell, her white field day t-shirt too big, her blue jean shorts sequined.

“Are you in trouble?” I ask her. For some reason, it seems better than sitting here in silence while she stares a hole into the ground. I’ve learned that little kids are very expressive, and their emotions are all over the place because they don’t know how to rein them in. Since I want to be a teacher one day, I had to take the few education courses that went over this.

“Yes,” she responds, sighing dramatically along with it. I get the feeling I shouldn’t laugh at her, though. Her stare goes from the floor to me, her eyes an interesting mix of hazel and her hair extremely curly and wild. And I don’t know if it’s because something upset her, but I get a weird feeling when I look at her… not at all bad, though.

“What did you do?” I uncross my legs, leaning forward and raising the pitch of my voice to feign enthusiasm, though I do want to know. The call that interrupted even my meeting with the principal seemed like it was going on forever.

She untwists her little brows and shrugs her shoulders. “My teacher says I talk too much. Dis… um…”

“Disrupting class?”

“Yeah,” she huffs.

I chuckle at her. “She wants you to learn. That’s what school is for.”

“Did you listen in school?”

“I did.” I lean forward on my knees, “And it paid off.”

“How?”

“Well, I’m rich.”

That makes her laugh.

“My mommy is rich.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to tell people that.” I fake scolding.

She laughs. “She says that, too, but I think she is lying.”

I laugh once. “And what does your dad think?” I ask, assuming.

“I don’t know. I don’t have one.” She does her little shrug and doesn’t seem at all phased by it.

“Oh. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Mommy says I’m not missing out on anything.”

I smile at her thinking she has a very developed vocabulary for a five-year-old. But it is an advanced school, after all, even the pre-school program. I forget which ages go where.

“Who are you?” she asks me, a rise in her voice that makes me laugh.

“I’m Lowell Blake.”

“Will you teach gym class?”

“No…” I trail off, wondering why she asked me that until I realize I might look like one to a kid in athletic shorts and the team shirt. “I play football, though. I have a special appearance for your field day.”

“Oh. I wish I didn’t have to go.”

Me too… “Why?”

“I don’t like the outside,” she says, almost with an obvious tone added on it.

“It’s good for you.”

She simply shakes her head not agreeing.

“How much trouble are you in?” I ask her after a moment.

“Not much. My mommy always defends me, though, she uses big words…” She trails off again.

I laugh at her.

Her mother sounds insane, though.

I glance at the clock, and since the event starts at four thirty, I assume I’ll be carted off soon enough. I think my escort has come along when the door slides open, but it’s not what I expected. Again.

Charlotte, gorgeous and radiant as ever, even in her gloomy clothes and tired expression, walks in.

“Hi, Mommy,” the girl says to her, and it’s all it takes to get me to look between the two of them.

And I realize why it was so weird looking at the kid like I was missing something. Between their resemblance, the blue in her eyes and beige of the girl’s skin, I land on a theory that is probably more insane than what I was thinking before.

“Kimberly, what are you doing?” Her voice, pointed at her daughter, is much different than before.

“Nothing.” The girl, Kimberly, laughs and hops off the chair skipping over to Charlotte to hug her hello.

I stand as Charlotte’s eyes are trained on me and mine on her. Neither of us looks away because she must know what I’m thinking…

I’ve met a daughter I didn’t know about.