5 🫧

He deserves no response.

I pull open the gate, cringing a bit at how loud the squeak is getting and add WD-40 to the running grocery list in my head.

Just like every time I make my way up the walkway to our front door, happiness flows through me. There may be a lot of projects I’d like to get done to the house, but even so, I love it.

Our little bungalow in Denver’s historic Five Points neighborhood is my most treasured possession, after Ace, obviously. With its violet shutters, turquoise flower boxes, and mint door, I’m sure any HOA-regulated neighborhood would have a coronary. It’s everything I dreamt of when I was a Barbie-toting little girl, but so much more because it was Maya’s.

When I was sixteen, pregnant, and terrified—and years ahead of what could’ve been a lucrative MTV opportunity—Aunt Maya was the only person in my life who didn’t give up on me. Not only did she not give up on me, she took me in when my parents put me out, severing the final threads of an already strained relationship with her sister (aka Tiana Parker, aka my mother). She was like my fairy godmother. I admired the life she lived. Always giving, never judging—the picture of grace and kindness. She brightened my life every day.

Then, when she passed suddenly two years ago, she left her house and her old but safe and reliable Volvo S40 to me and made it very clear she felt the same way about me and Ace as we felt about her.

Over the years, we became a package, the three of us.

And I miss her every single day.

“Ace!” Jayden, Ace’s friend from school who fortunately—or unfortunately—lives at the end of our block, yells out before I can unlock the front door. “Can you come over to my house? My dad got me the new NBA game for my PlayStation; you can be Curry! And he said you can spend the night!”

Freaking Jayden.

Everyone knows nothing can beat out Curry and sleepovers . . . not even muffins and smoothies.

“No way!” Ace shouts back before turning pleading green eyes my way.

“Can I, Mom, please?”

“Fine,” I concede, even though I really want to force him to stay with me and enjoy some freaking mother-son bonding.

“She said yes!” He punches the air above him and takes off toward Jayden, who’s waiting on the sidewalk in front of our gate.

“Wait!” I stop him before he gets too far. “You still have to change and shower before you go. Mr. Lewis is nice, but even he doesn’t want to catch a whiff of your soccer pits.”

“A fast shower?”

“As long as you wash everything thoroughly with soap, I don’t care how long you’re in there.” If I’ve learned anything from being Ace’s mom, it’s that kids are disgusting. They’d rather be the parade leader to hundreds of flies than take a decent shower.

“I’ll be there in four minutes,” Ace tells Jayden before shooting through our open door, throwing off his clothes behind him as he runs.

“Probably closer to twenty,” I amend to Jayden.

“Sounds good, Miz P.” Jayden turns on a heel to walk back to his house but spins in my direction again before I can go inside . . . not like I ever go inside without watching him make it to his house. “Oh! And my dad told me to tell you to come over too.” I bet he did.

I fight the urge to roll my eyes, but since they are already twitching, I’m not sure my efforts are successful.

Lesson for all those interested: Don’t sleep with your kid’s friend’s dad . . . especially when said dad lives five houses down.

Life mistake number 8,749.

Don’t get me wrong, Cole wasn’t bad, but so not worth the constant texts and awkward touching when our kids weren’t looking. The latter becoming increasingly annoying and pervy.

“I have to work tonight, but tell your dad I said thanks for the invitation.” My voice has risen about thirty decimals on the peppy-o-meter, but luckily for me, nine-year-old boys are oblivious to fakeness.

“Okay, Miz P. Thanks for letting Ace come over.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile at the sweet kid who’s at my house almost as much as I am. “You both better listen to your dad, ’kay?”

“We always do!”

“Suuuurrrreee.” I shake my head and wave, knowing that’s a damn lie. I like Jayden, but listening to anybody, especially his dad, isn’t his strong point.

I stand on my porch and watch Jayden until he pulls open his front door and disappears into his house. I go inside, tossing my shoes onto the rug guarding the original hardwoods, and head to the kitchen to use the old rotary phone mounted on the wall. I have a cell phone, but there’s something super satisfying about the twirling and clicking of an old house phone. Mrs. Duncan answers after the second ring and tells me she’ll be heading to Black Hawk to gamble tonight now that she’s off babysitting duties.

“Live your best life, Mrs. Duncan.”

“Child, I’ve been living my best life since you were only a twinkle in your parents’ eyes.”

I know she can’t see me, but that doesn’t stop me from snapping my fingers as I tell her, “I know that’s right.”

I place the phone back on the cradle and walk to Ace’s room just in time to see him shoveling football cards and mismatched clothes into his backpack.

“Got everything?” I ask.

“Yup!” He zips up the bag and tosses it over his shoulders. “See ya!”

He starts to run, but I step in front of his door, preventing his clean break.

“Aren’t you forgetting something? Maybe an ‘I love you, best mom in the entire world’?”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes but plays along with me anyways.

“Love you, Mom.” He wraps his arms around me, giving me a quick squeeze.

“Love you too.” I pull him in even tighter, talking to the top of his curlyhaired head. “Don’t forget your manners. Please and thank you and go to bed when Mr. Lewis says so. ’Kay?”

“I always do.” He tells me what I already know.

“I know.” I let him go and clear his path to video game glory. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See ya!” He bursts into the hallway, out the front door, and is halfway to Jayden’s by the time I reach the porch.

I wave to Cole when he lets Ace in and then hustle back inside and to my bathroom. Tonight might not be going as planned, but at least I’ll have ample time to focus on my hair and makeup. Maybe if I look my best, Phil will have mercy and not stick me at the shitty tables.

Worth a try.