Checked Out

by Hazel James

  “Jack?” Mrs. Haley, Marcum Elementary’s librarian, approached us. “We’re ready to start.”

  I squeezed his arm for reassurance and relocated to the side of the room, next to the camera I’d already set up on a tripod. When I found out about the ceremony, I begged him to let me do a story for the Channel 3 website. I was far from being a reporter, but Rosario told me they were always on the hunt for good content for the web.

  “Thanks for being here everyone,” Mrs. Haley said to the crowd. “As we approach the Thanksgiving holiday next week, we wanted to celebrate Mr. Price and his generous support of our library. Our theme for today’s ceremony and the rest of the week is ‘I’m thankful for books,’ and as you can see, our kids have some great reasons for loving reading.” Mrs. Haley gestured to the colorful banner behind her, which was made up of construction paper turkey hands bearing the phrase, I’m thankful for books because… I took pictures of a few cute ones—“Mommy cuddles with me when I read,” “It’s a funner way to learn,” and “I get to stay up past my bedtime”—to go with my story.

  Jack joined Mrs. Haley up front and shook her hand before turning to the audience. Just like I did before his trunk-or-treating interview, I mouthed You’ve got this. Also like that interview, he freaking nailed it.

  Just after midnight on Tuesday night/Wednesday morning, I made my first cup of coffee while my computer booted up. Scanning my inbox, my heart stopped a dozen messages down.

  From: bstavros@channel3news.com

  To: tcollins@channel3news.com

  Subject: Awesome story!

  Great job on the Marcum Elementary piece! You’re showing incredible initiative and believe me—that won’t go unnoticed around here. As a matter of fact, what do you think about helping me cover the Shredder tournament in January? Let me know if you’re interested.

  -Blaine

  “Selena! Wake up!”

  “I am awake, idiot,” she mumbled. “Please tell me this is an emergency and that’s why you’re calling in the middle of the night.”

  “It is an emergency!” I glanced around my desk to make sure no one had wandered by in the last few seconds. “I just checked my inbox and guess who emailed me?”

  “The Pope?”

  “No. How would he even have my—never mind. Blaine emailed me!”

  “You called to tell me your co-worker emailed you?”

  “You know he’s not just any co-worker.” I never saw the evening anchors because of our work schedules, so I hadn’t spoken to him aside from the day of my interview and running into him on Halloween. This. Was. HUGE! “Guess what he said?”

  “He’s doing a story on the importance of uninterrupted sleep and wants to interview your sister-in-law?”

  “Ugh. No. He congratulated me on the story I did about Jack’s speech at the school and asked if I wanted to help cover the Shredder tournament! Me! Covering a national ski and snowboarding competition with The. Blaine. Stavros!” I whisper-shouted.

  “That’s great. I’m really happy for you. And if you call me back tomorrow after Olivia’s in school, I’ll be even happier.” The line went dead, but I didn’t care.

  I was on top of the world tonight.

  Jack

  It’s amazing how much damage two unattended toddlers with healthy imaginations could do. Or maybe instead of amazing, I should say unfortunate or frustrating or absolutely fucking awful, because thanks to those snot-nosed monsters, I was here instead of having a late dinner with Tuesday before she went to work.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help?” Cara asked.

  I did. In fact, I wanted a small army of people in here because that was the only hope for putting the children’s non-fiction section back together before sunrise, but Cara was meeting Roger’s kids tonight.

  I shook my head and waved her off. “I’m sure. Go have fun and tell me all about it tomorrow.”

  She scanned the damage before offering a sympathetic smile. “I’ll lock up behind me.”

  “Thanks.” Once I heard the door close, I pulled out my phone and cued up my weightlifting playlist to help channel my frustration. Today had been shit from the moment I got here. Some asshole had returned a book with a piece of bacon as a bookmark and got grease stains on half of the other books in the bin. Our 3-D printer broke, and I found out I didn’t get one of the grants I applied for. The icing on that shitty cake came this evening in the form of Hayden and Liam, brothers ages four and two, who’d apparently promised their mom they’d behave while she took their little sister to the bathroom for a diaper change.

  Hayden and Liam were liars.

  Instead of sitting at the kiddie table where she’d left them, they played avalanche and knocked all the books off four shelves before Cara made it back there to stop them. The only good news was that nobody got hurt. God knows the last thing I wanted to deal with was insurance paperwork. Their mom, Angie, was in tears when she came back in and saw what they’d done. It turned out she’d only been a single parent for a short time—her husband had taken off this summer—and the boys were still having a hard time adjusting. Despite me having the day from hell, I couldn’t bear the thought of banning them from the library.

  So, after a few deep breaths from everyone, we made a promise that the boys would come to story time next Monday and help clean up the mats each kid sat on, and Cara made a promise to help Angie find some resources to help her navigate life as a single mom. Most people thought the library was just about books, but we were more than that. We offered access to technology, meeting spaces, job hunting support, study groups, and overall hope that tomorrow would be a little better than today was.

  As I stared at the mountain of books with narrow spines and microscopic titles, I hoped that last part was true for myself. An hour or so later, my phone rang, interrupting my music. My lips instinctively curved up when I saw Tuesday’s name on the screen. “Hey babe.”

  “Can you open the door?”

  “What door?”

  “To the library, dork. I’m outside.”

  She was? Huh. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.” I hung up, closed out of my music app, and met her at the door. “Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? Didn’t you get my text?” I wasn’t sure what time she was planning on waking up, so I figured messaging her was a more considerate way to tell her I needed to reschedule.

  “Of course I did. That’s how I knew where you were.” She bent down and retrieved a large paper bag and drink carrier. “I hope you’re in the mood for barbecue. I thought we could eat and then I’d help until we finished or I had to leave for work.”

  I stood there like an idiot for a few seconds before I remembered my manners and took the bag from her. “You’re serious?”

  She looked me dead in the eye and smiled. “If there’s one thing you need to know about me, it’s that I never joke about barbecue.” And with that, she led the way to the children’s section while I followed behind her like a starving, lovesick puppy.

  “How did this happen, anyway?” she asked, setting our food on the kiddie table. We both opted to sit on the floor instead of the chairs, which were the approximate size of one adult ass cheek. While we ate, I filled her in on my shitty day, with some good news sprinkled in—namely, Cara’s dinner plans with Roger tonight.

  “She’s meeting his family already? That’s amazing!”

  I nodded as I took a drink of my Coke. “She said they’ve known each other for a while now and weren’t getting any younger. They didn’t see any point in going slow when they both knew they enjoyed each other’s company.”

  Tuesday legit swooned over her bowl of mashed potatoes and gravy. “Do you think they’ll get married?”

  “Maybe. Crazier things have happened.” Like me picturing marriage with the woman who was head over heels for carbs and happily ever afters. Life would definitely not suck if I got to wake up beside Tuesday every day.

  “Soo… I have my own good news to s
hare.”

  “Yeah?”

  She set her spoon down and wiped her mouth. “I got invited to help cover the Shredder. We’re going to follow a sixteen-year-old kid named Remi DeCastro from Boise who’s competing.”

  “Wow, that’s… Holy shit!” The Shredder was an annual competition in Mountainside, Idaho that drew the best extreme skiers and snowboarders from around the country. It also drew national media attention and a crowd of A-list celebrities. Knowing Tuesday would be out there in the middle of it had my chest ballooning with pride.

  She smiled and shook her head. “I know, I’m still pinching myself.”

  “How did you land that assignment?”

  “Remember Blaine, the guy who did your trunk-or-treating interview?”

  Her words were a fist, punching me square in the gut. I nodded and focused on not hurling everything I’d just eaten.

  “Well, he saw the piece I did on the elementary school and emailed to say what a great job I did. Then he asked if I’d be interested in helping him cover the tournament. I mentioned my dream of being a reporter on Halloween, but I never in a million years thought it would turn into an opportunity like this.”

  Motherfucker. There were so many things I wanted to say, starting with he’s a slimy bastard and I’d bet money he only asked you to go because it kills him that we’re dating, but I refused to let my history with that asshole put a blemish on the career Tuesday’s dreamed of since she was a little girl. She deserved more than that.

  So instead of playing avalanche with the rest of the books in the children’s section, I swallowed the bitter pill of self-control and even smiled with a believable level of enthusiasm. Leaning around the table, I pulled her into a hug. “I’m so fucking proud of you.” That much, at least, was true.

  “Thank you. I’m just glad I have a couple of months to prepare for it. I’m going to research coverage on previous years since sports is a new style for me.”

  A couple of months to prepare… Shiiit. The Shredder was always at the end of January. My stomach rolled again. Surely the universe wouldn’t be this cruel, right?

  “When’s the competition?”

  “I can’t remember exactly. Hang on.” She grabbed her phone and tapped on the keyboard. “It’s January twenty-seventh through the twenty-ninth.”

  Of course it fucking was. This day could officially go straight to hell. I sighed and scrubbed my hands over my face.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My speech for the American Stuttering Association is on the twenty-seventh.”

  “Oh, shoot.” Her beaming smile transformed into a frown. “I guess in my excitement, I forgot all about that. I’ll email Blaine when I get to work tonight and tell him I can’t cover the Shredder.”

  More than anything, I wished she could. I’d even write the email for her right now.

  Dear Dicky,

  Tuesday isn’t going anywhere with you. Eat shit.

  Fuck you very much,

  Jack

  “Not a chance, babe. You’re going to that competition.”

  “But I promised to help you first. I can’t back out on that.”

  “You can and you will. I agreed to the speech before I met you, so there’s no reason I can’t follow through on my own promise. I am, however, holding you to two things. One, you’re still helping me practice, and two, you’re still helping me with these damn books tonight.”

  She scrunched her nose. “So you’re not mad at me?”

  “I’m disappointed that you won’t be there for my speech, but I’m not mad. This is an incredible opportunity.” I stood and pulled her into my arms, the act of hugging her automatically easing the anger simmering in my chest. “And speaking of incredible opportunities… are you interested in participating in the annual Price Family Thanksgiving Marathon?”

  Tuesday leaned back and eyed me like I’d lost my mind. “Your family runs a marathon on Thanksgiving?”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Movies.”

  “Thank God. The only marathons I’ve done have involved Netflix and Hulu.”

  “We usually eat around three, and then Mom starts on her favorite Christmas classics, with a few Hallmark treasures mixed in. I’m not sure what your plans are, but you’re welcome to come over and help us eat dinner or dessert or both. And since you’ve already met my parents, it should take some of the pressure off.”

  Mom had asked at least twice a week since Halloween if Tuesday would be joining us. Each time, I told her I needed to wait because the last thing I wanted to do was scare Tuesday away. I was running out of time, though. Thanksgiving was only a week away.

  “I’m going to my brother’s, but I’ll double check what time they plan on eating. I think it’s early to keep Olivia from turning into a hangry monster. I could come over when we’re done if you want.”

  “Oh, I want,” I said, smiling like an idiot. The thought of Tuesday being at my parents’ house on Thanksgiving more than made up for bacon bookmarks, broken printers, and mischievous little boys.

  “I just have one request. If I fall asleep, please don’t hold it against me. I’m still working next week even though it’s the holidays.”

  “If you get tired, my mom will make your comfort her personal mission. She’s got a whole closet full of pillows and blankets reserved for special guests only. You might even be able to nap in my childhood bedroom.” I waggled my brows for effect.

  “Out of curiosity, how many special guests have you invited to the Price Family Marathon?”

  I took a quick headcount and held up five fingers, causing Tuesday’s eyes to go wide. “You’ve brought five women to Thanksgiving dinner?”

  I couldn’t help my smirk. “A little jealous, are we?” She scoffed and turned her attention to the kiddie table, quickly gathering food containers and lids and dropping them into the paper bag. “If it makes you feel any better, only two were women.”

  Her head snapped up, confusion etched between her brows. “You’ve invited three men?”

  I nodded and ticked the names off my fingers. “Diego, his dad Andre, and his little brother Daniel.”

  She clamped her lips between her teeth. “I see. So I guess the women were Diego’s mom and eventually Erin?”

  “Mm hmm. I invited the Sernas over for the first time in middle school because they didn’t have any family close by, and they’ve eaten with us ever since. Erin joined us the second year she and Diego were dating.”

  “Oh.” Tuesday tried to hide her sheepish smile, but I pulled her back into my arms and framed her face with my hands.

  “For as cute as you are when you’re jealous, you have no reason to be. I’ve never brought a girlfriend home for a holiday meal.”

  She snaked her arms around my waist and locked her hands at my back. “So I’m the first?”

  “Yep.” I was pretty sure she’d also be the last, but I kept that to myself for now.

  “What time will Tuesday get here?” Mom asked as she transferred her famous turkey gravy into a dish that, along with the rest of the holiday china, had been in our family for three generations.

  “She’s on her way right now, so I’d say twenty minutes, tops. But I already told you she’ll probably be too full to eat again and she might take a nap. Don’t take it personal and make her feel bad.”

  Mom didn’t say anything, but she pulled the same face as she did when she watched puppy videos on social media.

  “I’m almost too afraid to ask, but what’s that look for?”

  “What look?” She passed the gravy boat to me and motioned for me to add it to the growing spread on the dining room table. Diego, Erin, and his parents were in the living room finishing up a video call with Daniel, who was away at college. Dad and Grandpa were carving the last of the turkey. I was starving but knew better than to sneak any food this close to eating time. Apparently, you can be twenty-six and still spoil your dinner.

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Mom.”

/>   “Don’t mind her. She’s just over the moon about your lady friend coming over.” Dad pecked Mom on the cheek as he passed through the kitchen on the way to the table, turkey platter full of dark meat in hand. Grandpa didn’t say anything as he followed with the white meat, so he was my new favorite relative.

  “I told you guys it’s not a big deal.”

  “You’ve never brought a girlfriend to Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner. It’s absolutely a big deal,” Mom said.

  “You know how women try on a bunch of different outfits before a date?” Dad asked when he returned.

  “Yeah?”

  “That was your mom yesterday morning, except it was tablecloths. This one was too casual, that one was too formal, this one had too much red, the print on that one clashed with the towels in the kitchen…” He shook his head.

  “Well it’s not every day our son invites his future wife to Thanksgiving dinner.”

  It was my turn to shake my head. “Hold on, Mom. No one said anything about marriage.”

  “Oh please, you didn’t have to.” She gave me a knowing smile and grabbed the basket of rolls. “Dinner’s ready!”

  “But—”

  Dad clapped me on the back. “Don’t bother. You know how she is when she gets an idea in her head.”

  “I just don’t want her to be disappointed—or worse, mention it to Tuesday. This is literally just Thanksgiving dinner, not a proposal.” I turned my pockets inside out to prove I wasn’t hiding a ring box. I mean yeah, I’d thought about marriage a few times in the last week, but that was it. Mom talking about it now was the equivalent of thinking about gym shoes and then seeing ads for them in your social media feed… creepy as fuck.

  “I’ll make sure she doesn’t say anything,” Dad reassured me, leading the way to the table.

  My phone rang as we took our seats. “Hey babe.”

  “Hey, I can’t talk long. There was an accident on Owens Highway, and I’ll be delayed.”