Five days a week, I picked him up after school and drove him straight to practice. It was the one fixed point in my week. I worked as a dental hygienist, and I had arranged my whole schedule around those ninety minutes. I left the office at four on the dot. My boss joked that I was the only employee he had who was more reliable than the clock on the wall.
We always followed the same routine. At 4:30, I’d pull into the parking lot. Sam would grab his hockey bag from the trunk, sling it over his shoulder, and say, “See you at six, Mom.” Then he’d walk through the main entrance without looking back.
I’d run errands. Groceries, the pharmacy, the dry cleaner. Sometimes I just sat in the Starbucks across the road and answered emails. Then I’d come back ninety minutes later, and he’d climb into the passenger seat smelling like sweat and ice, and we’d drive home.
