Aspen Kesler

Drop Off

God I hate Fridays. I can’t even begin to describe the pit that forms in my stomach when I wake

up on a Friday morning. No matter how stuck I feel to my bed, however, I still get up and go

start breakfast. Fridays are French Toast Fridays and the kids look forward to it every week. That

promise to them is what starts me on the right foot every Friday morning, even if I’m dreading

the weekend to come.

I was finishing the last piece of toast when Dallas stumbles sleepily into the kitchen. “Good

morning sleepy-head,” I cheer as I walk over to embrace him, “how’d you sleep?” “Fine, I

guess,” he mumbles. I guess the dread is in the air today. “Well, how about some breakfast,” I

reply cheerfully. ​I’ve got to be positive for him, ​I think to myself, ​if I can’t, Parker sure won’t.

Parker’s my oldest. She’s 16 and already so smart and mature. She won’t be awake until after

I’m off to work, so I leave a plate of french toast wrapped up in the fridge for her to warm up. I

also leave her a note on the counter, “Make sure to pack before we have to leave tonight. -Love

Dad”. Dallas finishes his breakfast and is making his way towards the stairs when I yell after

him, “Hey bud, remember to throw a bag together for this weekend.” “And what if I don’t,” he

snaps back at me. “Well then you won’t have a toothbrush over the weekend, silly,” I reply

jokingly. He snarks back, “or I don’t have to go if I don’t pack.” Dallas is only 12. I don’t blame

him for being smart with me. I would too if I was in his shoes. “You know we can’t do that,

buddy,” I say trying to hide the despair in my voice, “but you’ll be home Sunday night!” I get a

grunt for a reply as he makes his way up the rest of the stairs.

Twenty minutes later, Dallas is waiting for me in the car. I’ll drop him off at school on my way

to work and Parker will pick him up after. I run upstairs to go say goodbye to her. *knock
knock* “Hey Park, you up yet,” I whisper through her door. I hear a soft “yeah” and open the

door. “I’m heading out, Park,” I tell her as I pull her into a hug, “it’s time to get up, baby girl.

There’s breakfast in the fridge.” “Thanks Dad,” she replies as she hugs me a little tighter. I tell

her I love her and flip on the light switch as I head out of her room and into the garage. As I’m

pulling out of the driveway Dallas points up at Parker’s window and says, “Parker turned her

light off again.” “She probably just needs another minute to sleep,” I replied, “I’ll make sure she

still leaves on time.”

“Have the kids here at 6, Jack.” ​That’s the text message I receive from the mother of my

children in the middle of my meeting. She knows I’m at work. She knows Parker has soccer

practice until 5:30. She knows that I already know what time I’m supposed to drop the kids off to

her. She knows that technically her weekend doesn’t start until 6:30, but she doesn’t care about

any of this. If I’m not pulling into her driveway at 6:00, she’ll email her attorney and tell him I’m

not feeding the kids, or something ridiculous like that. So I keep my mouth shut and toe the line.

I don’t reply to her, but make a mental note to make extra sure we leave on time tonight.

5:50 comes around and Parker’s still not home. “​Where are you??” I​ text her for the fourth time.

I finally hear the garage open and she walks in the door. “Parker,” I start, “you’re were supposed

to be home ten minutes ago. Are you even packed?” “No,” she snarks, “why does it matter. She

still won’t pay attention to us if we’re there at 6 tonight or noon tomorrow.” I should have

expected this. She puts up an argument every week. “I’m sorry Parker,” I sighed, “I can’t piss off

your mom right now. Get your stuff and meet us in the car.” I hate myself for saying that. I hate

myself for making her go sit at that house every weekend, but if my prayers are answered,

neither of them will have to do this much longer.

Neither of them has said a word the entire car ride. I try to put their minds in a happier place with

phrases like, “I’m sure you mom has something fun planned this weekend,” and “I heard the

complex’s pool opens this weekend; you guys should go check it out,” but they don’t budge. The

closer we get to their mom’s apartment the harder it gets to hold the tears and the anger back, and

I can tell Dallas is having the same struggle. Parker is stone cold, like always. She has to be, I’ve

learned, or the emotions will be too much for her. I know how strong she tries to look for Dallas.

We pull into the driveway and I hop out to start grabbing their backpacks. Their mom is standing

at the window on the second floor. She won’t come down and talk to me, she never has, but

she’ll make sure I know that she’s watching my every move. I hand Dallas his backpack and pull

him into a hug. “Try to have some fun this weekend, okay bud?” I say as I squeeze him in my

arms. “You can call me if you need anything.” I turn to Parker and pull her in as I hand put her

backpack on her shoulders. I lean into her ear and whisper, “it’s almost over, baby girl, the next

court date is Wednesday.” “It should be over already though,” she huffs, “you should’ve won last

time.” “I know Parker. Trust me. I know.”