Khali was supposed to be taking this course to help her husband once she was married. Her mother had made it clear that she would not be working after the wedding, but understanding the books was key to keeping her future husband in line. Khali didn’t worry about her results, since her future was set. Instead, class was a chance to get away from a very protective and strict family.
Michelle wasn’t sure why Rin was taking the course. He understood some concepts brilliantly and flaked out completely on others. He was more interested in finding a girlfriend than learning the material. Michelle and Boni were too old for him, and Khali wouldn’t consider him seriously, but he stayed with them. He called them his “pretty ladies” once. He didn’t try it again.
Rin often talked about parties they should come to, but Michelle couldn’t since she was home with the kids. Boni was too busy with her part-time work as well as courses, and Khali had neither the time nor inclination. Still, it was nice to be invited, and she felt less alone when she was attending classes and tutorials with them.
Michelle shrugged at Rin’s question about her test results.
“I may have to drop this course,” he said. “I just don’t get it.” Rin shook his head.
Michelle didn’t have that option. She had one year before she had to support herself and her kids in a new city, and she needed this certificate. But she didn’t want anyone to know how desperate she was.
“Well, I’m going to have to go back over this material,” she said. “It’s just the first test, though, right?”
Rin grinned at her. “Wanna come to the bar tonight? We can drown our sorrows. Boni? Khali?”
Michelle forced a smile. “Sorry, got the kids. Have one for me.”
Khali rolled her eyes at Rin, and Boni shook her head gravely. Boni slipped away, and Michelle waved goodbye to Rin and Khali as he continued to try to convince her to come out with him.
Michelle caught the subway and headed for the school. Tommy’s class had taken a field trip to a conservation area today, so Angie had been allowed, after repeated persuasive arguments to Michelle, to go home on her own. She’d texted earlier that she’d made it safely.
Angie had gotten over her initial anger about missing hockey, but she was still sullen whenever she remembered it. She said she was keeping up with her homework, but Michelle was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Angie loved hockey so much...would being without it mean she’d start acting out, get failing grades, fall in with a bad crowd?
Michelle waited at the school till the bus arrived with Tommy and his classmates. Every day Michelle hoped to see Tommy with a friend, but once again, he got off on his own, head down. Michelle blinked back the tears. She wondered if this move to Toronto had been a huge mistake. What had she been thinking?
It was a quiet walk home. When they arrived at the condo, she asked Tommy if he wanted to push the button on the elevator, but he just shrugged. Michelle’s shoulders bowed, and she wondered how much more she could take.
She heard Angie’s voice as the doors opened. She glanced down the hallway and sighed.
Angie had taken to haunting their neighbor. He was her contact with hockey, and a star, and she cornered him every chance she got. Michelle was going to have to talk to her about it. The guy was being nice, but he probably had to be nice to fans as a member of the team. Eventually he’d get tired of it, and she couldn’t afford for him to go to the condo board and complain about her and the kids.
“So who’s your favorite player?” she heard Troy ask.
If Michelle had asked that question, she’d have gotten an eye roll. But for Troy...
“Bruce Anders,” came the quick response. Michelle’s mouth twitched. If Troy had been hoping to hear his own name, he didn’t know kids, especially her daughter. Her daughter wouldn’t recognize tact if it hit her with a hockey stick.
“But he’s not even on the Blaze. I thought we were your team,” Troy objected. Troy was standing in his doorway, undoubtedly hoping he’d be able to slip inside soon and have some privacy, while Angela hovered halfway between the two condo doors.
“The Blaze is my Toronto team. I’m from Winnipeg. The Whiteout is my real team.”
Troy glanced up at Michelle and grinned. At least he wasn’t taking it too personally.
“Angie, is your homework done?” Michelle asked. She hated being the heavy all the time, but she had to get her daughter away from the poor man she’d cornered. She wouldn’t embarrass her daughter by explaining that she was bothering Troy in front of him.
Michelle got the expected eye roll. “I know the rules. I have to do my homework after dinner, before I can watch any TV.”
To her surprise, Troy sided with Michelle. “You do what your mom says. Hockey players have to listen to their coaches, you know.”
Unfortunately, that didn’t help as much as he might have intended. The sulky expression returned to Angie’s face. “I don’t have a coach.”
“Your mom is your coach. You go get that homework done.”
He waved at Michelle, and then was able to escape into his own place.
Michelle opened the door to their condo, and the kids followed her inside. It was Friday, the night they ordered in, giving Michelle a break at the end of the week.
Michelle dropped her backpack on the floor. Tommy switched on his video games, as he did so often after school.
Michelle could never decide if it was worse to let him handle grief on his own terms, using the games as he needed, or if she should intervene. The kid had so little in his life, it seemed. His Tae Kwon Do was his only interest outside video games. Next year, she swore, when she wasn’t tied up with classes, she was going to find something for him to do. Maybe he’d like to play guitar. Or swim. Something.
“So what do we want to order tonight?” she called out, forcing a cheerful note into her voice. Thank goodness she didn’t need to cook.
Angie shrugged, and draped herself over the recliner. Michelle had to call again to Tommy to get his attention, and he said pizza. Pizza was his standard choice.
Michelle was getting tired of pizza, but she didn’t have the energy to come up with an alternative and talk them into it, so she called the familiar number, and placed the usual order.
“Angie, come help me empty the dishwasher,” she called.
Angie dragged herself over, doing an excellent facsimile of a martyr dragging herself to the stake.
“You were talking to Troy again,” Michelle said.
Angie shrugged. Michelle kept her voice level with effort.
“I hope you’re not annoying him—”
Angie straightened, eyes flashing. “I’m not stupid, Mother. I’m not annoying him. And you can refuse to let me play hockey, but I’m not giving it up, and I’m not going to stop talking to Troy just so you can pretend I’ve forgotten about playing!”
Michelle stared at Angie.
“Hon, I know that you’d sooner give up your cell phone than hockey, but bothering Troy isn’t going to help you play. If I had the money...”
“Sure. Whatever.”
Angie stomped off to her room, and Michelle let her go. It was easier to put away a few dishes than fight with her daughter. She sank her head on her hands