For the Love of Ash (14 page)

"My sweet grandchildren!" she cooed when she saw us. I watched as she knelt down, her grey suit pants crinkling like plastic. She held her arms open as Ash walked over to her and hugged her. I pushed Ash's backpack in the corner near the door and then placed my own purse on the table.
 

"I have lasagna. Let me just heat it up." She didn't say hi or even acknowledge me. I walked past her into the kitchen and pulled out the tray from the refrigerator. I eavesdropped as I poured lettuce into a large bowl. Her voice pierced my brain.

"How is school, little boy?"
 

"I only started yesterday but so far so good."

"Why don't you tell her about hockey?" I shouted from the kitchen.
 

"Oh!" I could hear the excitement in his tone. "I made it onto a new team that's for twelve-year-olds. I'm the youngest boy, but I'm good enough to be on it." I smiled.

"I just hope your sister isn't setting you up for failure. Surely, you won't be the best on the team. Are you okay with being average?"

"Well¸ no."

"I'm not setting him up for failure," I said as I stormed into the living room. That was bullshit, and she knew it. Asher was sitting on the couch with Margo beside him, although just one butt cheek was on the couch. It was like she thought it was too dirty to sit on.
 

"His coach thought he was too good for the U10 so we're trying him on the U12. I wouldn't put him there if I didn't think he could handle it. Plus, being challenged is a good thing. It will help him grow."
 

"Do you know how failure affects children's psyche? By trying it out, you could be scarring him for life. I only have his best interests in mind." Margo glared at me from across the room like I interrupted her private brainwash time.
 

"Asher, why don't you go up and get ready for bed? I'll call you down for dinner, okay?" I smiled at him, pretending like my heart wasn't racing in my chest and my blood wasn't pumping ridiculously loud in my ears.

He nodded and ran up the stairs. He seemed relieved from the sigh he let out.

"Well?" She stood and brushed her pants clean of all the imaginary dirt. "Surely, you know you can't handle dealing with Asher and yourself. Don't interrupt," she said just as I was about to. "I only want the best for each of you, Margaret. Your mother would want me more involved."
 

"You were never involved until they died, Margo. Why now?" I shook my head and leaned against the wall. I didn't want her any closer to me than she was now.

"I just told you. My daughter would want me to know her children."

"I'm not saying you can't know us. But you're not taking him from me. And I'll do whatever it takes to prevent that. I won't let my guard down when it comes to Asher." The buzzer beeped from the kitchen, and I turned and left her.

I felt her enter the room behind me as I pulled the lasagna out of the oven. I placed it on a warmer that rested atop the stove and finished making the salad.

"You know, I could hire someone to make you food," she offered from behind me. I glared over my shoulder and saw her studying me, looking for flaws.

"Margo, just stop. Why don't you go find Ash? You have a shot of having a relationship with him."
 

"I know I was never nice to you kids—"

"Not nice to us?" I laughed to myself as I turned around to face her. Her gray hair was perfectly coifed up to the side, her pant suit and blazer were fit to her slim body, hugging her stick-like frame. "You have called me a slut, drug addict, waste of our name, and useless. You told me more times than not that I would never go anywhere in life. I know the only reason you give a shit now is because you feel some sort of guilt after my parents' death, but save it. It doesn't work on me."
 

"I guess you did get something from us after all." She smiled as she trailed her finger along the counter as she sauntered out of the kitchen. Her heels clicked up the stairs. I grabbed onto the edge of the counter to stop my shaking hands.
 

How dare she continue to attack me? Especially in my own home. I knew this was how she was, but it didn't make hearing it any easier. It was worse that she was attacking me over Ash. I doubted my parenting skills, and she was using my insecurity against me. I prayed that it wouldn't work.
 

I could do this.

I tried to keep my mind off Margo and on the task at hand. I finished mixing the oil and vinegar dressing and sprinkled it over the lettuce. I cut some veggies and threw them on top and then placed the bowl on the table next to the lasagna.
 

"Dinner is ready!" I yelled up the stairs and retreated back to the kitchen. I liked the seat cornered in the wall since I could see everything around me.

Asher ran into the room and kissed my cheek before sitting in the seat next to me. Margo came in and sat across from me. She had her nose in the air at my modest meal, but I bit my tongue and breathed deeply.
 

"Tell me when," I told Asher as I scooped out some lasagna and piled it on his plate. After two spoonfuls, he asked me to stop. I gave myself some and then passed the serving spoon over to Margo.
 

I gave Ash a good amount of salad and hopped up to get him a glass of milk. I didn't even have to see her to know that she wasn't impressed. Truthfully, I cared what she thought of me. I wanted just one person to tell me I was doing a good job, but it was stupid to expect it from her.
 

"So, Margo, where's Grandpa today?" I asked. I sat down and placed the glass in front of Asher., then took a bite of the hot lasagna. Even though my mom didn't really like me, she made some awesome food. This was her recipe, and I made it at least a few times a month.
 

"He's off golfing with some of his country club buddies. You know how they love to go any day it's sunny." I looked over at her plate and saw she only had a little bit of salad on it. I had to resist an eye roll.
 

"Asher, when is your first game?" Margo asked. Asher was in the middle of a bite. He chewed fast, making a spectacle as he dramatized his jaw movements. I laughed, but Margo didn't.
 

"I don't know my schedule yet. Do you?" He looked to me.

"Coach Mark was going to email me tonight. Probably next weekend," I told her, though I doubted she would actually show up. She only wanted to be in our lives in theory. She wasn't actually interested in what we did.
 

"I'd love to come to a game if that'd be okay with you." She tilted her head to the side, her fork with a single leaf in the air.
 

"Sure." Ash shrugged as he filled his mouth with the final piece of lasagna on his plate.
 

"Do you want more?" I asked him as he picked at the salad. He nodded. "Finish the salad, and I'll give you more lasagna."

"So, Margaret, you're in college, yes? I believe that was part of the settlement."

"If you mean the will, then no, it wasn't part of it. But I am in college."
 

"Where are you going?" she asked, but from the lilt in her voice I knew it was just small talk.
 

"I'm taking day classes at Western."

"Western? That's a state school." She may as well have thrown her napkin to the ground with her extreme reaction. State schools were beneath her.
 

"They have a great education program."
 

"Could you not get into Sacred Heart at the very least?"
 

"I didn't apply, so I don't know. I like Western, and it's close enough for me to juggle everything." I bit extra hard into the lasagna, pretending it was her head.
 

"I don't mind taking Ash back to my estate a few days a week. He'd probably like having a little extra room. Wouldn't you?" She glanced down at him.
 

"Don't bring him into this." I glared across the table at her. Even I knew better than to put Asher in a bad spot. He probably loved Margo, and I wouldn't want either of them hurt, even if I was constantly getting stabbed.
 

"Well, I can see we're not on the same page. Perhaps next month will be better. I should be off to make dinner for your grandfather." She scooted her chair back and stood.
 

"Did you want to wrap the rest of the lasagna?" I asked as I stood up, too.
 

"Oh, no, dear. We don't eat meat."
 

"Of course,you don't." I shook my head, grinning through clenched teeth.
 

"What was that?" she asked from behind me.
 

"Nothing. It was a pleasure to see you, as always." I waved over my shoulder as she said goodbye to Asher.
 

"I'll send a maid next week some time. He shouldn't be living in this filth. And don't object, Margaret. You wouldn't want me to mention anything to the lawyers, would you?" She smirked at me and then walked into the living room before I could object. "Goodbye, Asher. Promise you'll call and let me know how your hockey thing goes."

"Sure," he answered, kind like always. "Bye, Grandma."

"You're old enough to call me Margo now, dear."

"Oh, um…Bye, Margo." I heard the front door shut and that was when I emerged from the kitchen. Asher was sitting on the love seat, rummaging through his backpack.

"Ready for more lasagna?" I asked him as I wiped my hands on my pants. He nodded. "Let's go then." I patted his butt as he walked past me. I looked around the living room, searching for some dead rodents or stains, but saw nothing. My house was perfectly fine; I guess a little messy, but not unlivable. Fuck her.
 

Chapter Fourteen

Maggie

Asher now had practice on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which were the worst time for me. Coach Mark sent me a new practice schedule via email, and when I saw the times, my stomach bottomed out.

I now had work in the morning, two classes, had to have Lisa meet him at home after school, and then I rushed home and drove us both to his practice. It was exhausting, and the second we got to the rink, I ran to the concession stand and got an extra-large hot coffee with half and half and about a cup of sugar. I figured I'd need another before the night was over.

I sat on my now-favorite bench against the plexiglass-windowed wall. It was warmer in this room than in the rink. I still couldn't be comfortable without a winter jacket, but I could see the skaters through the windows.

When I saw Asher skate onto the ice, I knew that it was time to brave the cold. I grabbed my coffee and walked over to the home side, although it was just a practice so it didn't really matter where I sat.
 

The bleachers were old school wooden planks with metal beams holding them up. They were uncomfortable and I noticed some of the parents had these little cushions they sat on.
 

Coach Mark set up cones along the blue and red lines and started warming the kids up. They weaved in and out of lanes, jumped some cones and then carried the pucks on their sticks through the obstacle course.

"This seat taken?" a woman asked as she pointed to the piece of wood beside me. I shook my head, while staring at Asher gliding across the glistening ice.

"I'm Janet. My son is number twelve," she said with pride.

"I'm Maggie," I said, holding out my hand and finally looking up at her. She shook my hand daintily, like you'd expect a classy woman to. She was beautiful with dark and unruly hair, highlighted to the extreme with shades of red. She had light blue eyes, kind of like Tahiti oceans. Her smile was genuine, and I loved that. I was sick of fake smiles. "Asher is number seven."

"Ah, Coach Mark told us he was coming aboard."

"Yeah, it's his first time checking, which is why I'm kind of on edge." I watched as the kids lined up and grouped up for a scrimmage. Asher looked up at me in the stands, and I waved.
 

"It's always hard. My son's been on this team for two years, and trust me, the checking never gets easier to watch."

"Great," I muttered, preparing myself for the worst.