Free Just to See You Smile by Sally John

any more money!”
    â€œDon’t buy me anything for Christmas this year.”
    She burst into laughter. “Oh, Alec! I am not joining your pity party.”
    â€œYou could get a job like most women. Like Val.”
    Her smile disintegrated. He was serious. She sank onto the bed. “We agreed from the start that I would be a stay-at-home mom. It was as much your desire as it was mine.”
    â€œThat was 17 years ago. A lot has changed, especially since yesterday. Since two of our kids became teenagers.”
    â€œI didn’t finish college.”
    â€œI realize that. I know you put me through grad school.”
    They stared at one another.
    He sat beside her. “Anne, I’m just thinking out loud, exploring options here.”
    â€œDo you know when the last time was I soaked in a bubble bath?”
    â€œWhat’s that got to do—”
    â€œThe first of November. That was the last time I had a spare 30 minutes.”
    â€œWhat if you dropped your part-time work and volunteer stuff?”
    â€œAnd worked full-time? Forget bubble baths. There wouldn’t be enough hours in the day to clean, cook, do laundry, and grocery shop.”
    â€œThe kids need to be given more responsibilities. They can help more with all that. Maybe that’s why God let this happen. So we could all pull together and learn from it. Otherwise He’s having a good laugh at me.”
    â€œAlec, God doesn’t work that way.”
    â€œI don’t know anymore.”
    She poked a finger in his chest. “You’re losing it, mister. Why don’t you go soak in a bubble bath?”

    Late Saturday night, the old yellow school bus rumbled down the road toward Valley Oaks. The interstate surface was relatively smooth compared to the two-lane county highway which they should hit in about ten minutes. In the front seat across from the driver, Anne felt her bones jar and wondered if, as a late thirty-something woman, she had outgrown her capacity for such treks.
    But then, she’d begun questioning every jot and tittle of her life since Alec’s career went on hold 24 hours ago. She pulled the scrunchie from her ponytail and absentmindedly fingered the strands loose.
    As usual after an away game, the bus was nearly empty. Most of the sophomores and freshmen rode home with their parents. Britte required her varsity girls to ride the bus. By junior year, all of them either had a car or a friend with a car parked back in the school lot. They didn’t grumble about their coach’s rule.
    Anne suspected another reason they didn’t gripe was because Britte treated them well. Fast-food restaurants were plentiful along the far-flung routes they traveled. It was tradition to stop as a team and eat on the way home.
    â€œAnnie.” Britte slid onto the padded bench seat beside her. She had been making her rounds—another tradition— talking individually with the 11 members sprawled about the darkened bus. Rehashing successful plays. Instructing. Listening through their headsets to a curious mixture of music. Joking. Connecting .
    â€œAnnie,” she repeated. “I am so sorry about this schedule.”
    â€œDon’t worry about it. The schedules don’t conflict like tonight’s except three times during the entire season. Drew can play three times without his mommy watching.”
    Britte’s face was in shadow, turned as it was from the dimly glowing dashboard, but Anne imagined her friend’s eyes. A cartoonist could easily make them dominate her face, poke fun at their proximity. It was that nearness, though, and the royal blue color that made them so arresting.
    Britte said, “But can Mommy survive missing him play?”
    â€œYes, I can. One down tonight, two to go, and Alec’s videotaping.” If he remembered.
    â€œWell, Tanner can take over for you the next two times. I don’t mind if you don’t mind. He’s capable, and