ISLA
SHE HAD ALREADY BEEN UP FOR EIGHT HOURS AND HAD DEALT WITH so much, and now this. The minivan’s engine light flashed on as she drove Raisin to his soccer game. It had been doing this for the past two weeks now, and this malfunction had been accompanied by a weird pinging noise coming from the engine. With over a hundred thousand miles on the odometer, Isla prayed the minivan wouldn’t break down on her now. Ray had sworn he’d look at it at some point, but so far he hadn’t. As far as the engine light being on, Ray had mansplained that car manufacturers designed them like that in order to get more service calls. “A complete scam,” he’d claimed.
She looked in the rearview mirror and saw Raisin sitting quietly in his white soccer uniform. Next to him sat Scout, staring out the window, his medical vest outfitted with two pockets. One pocket contained Scout’s liver treats, potty bags, and water bowl. The other pocket held everything Raisin needed in the event his blood sugar levels dangerously spiked. They had perfected the system over a number of years now and had crisis avoidance down pat.
The sun shone with an unusual intensity this morning, foreshadowing a wonderful Maine summer. It seemed that as of late she’d been attending one sporting event after another. Just the other day she’d watched her daughter’s high school team win the state softball championship. It had been one of their family’s finest moments and worth every mile logged on her shitty minivan. To see her daughter so happy had made all the sacrifices worth it. The only thing that would have been better was if Ray could have been there to witness the victory. If not for herself, then for poor Katie, who had been searching for her father the entire game.
Of course there never would have been a championship without Katie’s best friend, Willow. She’d transferred from exclusive Chance Academy, ten miles up the coast, after her sophomore year. An amazing pitcher, she had struck out fifteen batters and had pitched a no-hitter in the championship game. Her talent had been on full display months before, when she starred in Grease, the school’s winter musical. If that wasn’t enough, she was drop-dead gorgeous.
Her parents, Gil and Felicia Briggs, had moved the family to Shepherd’s Bay two years ago and had built a massive postmodern home along the waterfront. Isla had driven past it a few times as it was being built and had marveled at the design and the landscaping. It always amazed her that these newcomers were so wealthy. While she was growing up, this town had been blue collar and gritty. The Briggses’ sleek home both awed her and made her slightly jealous. It shamed her to feel this way, because she’d always been raised not to envy her neighbors for what they had.
She’d heard rumors that Gil Briggs had been a big shot out in LA. Other than that, she didn’t know Willow’s parents very well and merely said hello to them from time to time. They kept mostly to themselves, especially Felicia, who never spoke to any of the other parents. For whatever reason, Felicia mystified her, and she typically spent a good portion of the game studying the exotic-looking woman. Felicia always wore dark sunglasses to complement her perfectly colored mane of jet-black hair. And sported long lacquered nails, thumb rings, and dangling earrings that sparkled in the sun. And yet for whatever reason, the woman seemed lonely. Isla had many times wanted to go over there and introduce herself, ask if Felicia wanted to go get coffee sometime, but somehow she had never gotten up the nerve.
Felicia always stood by herself, because Gil had taken to filming the girls. He’d started in the fall, after getting all the kids and their parents to sign waivers. His goal was to try to sell the film footage to one of the cable networks, marketing it as a reality show based in Maine. All the girls who had signed on to the project seemed excited about the prospect of becoming reality stars and appearing on TV. Isla wasn’t thrilled by the idea, but she couldn’t deny Katie the opportunity it might one day provide her. And if the show took off, and Katie made a few dollars, it could help defray some of her college costs.
The entrance to the soccer field appeared up ahead. To her left she saw Ridley’s farm. Dairy cows grazed languidly in pasture, their oversized mouths gently chewing on sprouting grass. Years ago, they’d opened an ice cream shop in the front parking lot, and it had become quite popular during the summer months.
She pulled out her phone and called Katie. For the third time this morning, her daughter’s phone went directly to message. What’s wrong with that girl? She tried Ray. Nothing on his end, either. She couldn’t believe harvesting seaweed could occupy so much of his time. Another example of Ray being Ray. She’d never known him to be anything but irresponsible, even when she’d fallen head over heels for him after returning from college. Never a day went by when Ray, always looking to earn an easy buck, didn’t talk about one of his new business ventures. His faults had seemed lovable when she was first getting to know him. Now they were glaring.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Raisin?”
“Do I have to play today?”
“What’s up, kiddo? You not feeling well?”
“I feel fine. I just don’t feel like playing this morning.”
“Then what is it? Because you usually love to play soccer.”
“I don’t know. I get tired of it.”
“But you’re the best player on the team.”
“Sometimes the kids on the other team can be real jerks. They say a lot of mean stuff about Scout, ask if he’s my Seeing Eye dog or something.”
“I know it’s hard for you, buddy, but we talked about this. You can’t control what other kids say. Just ignore them and do your thing.”
“At least the kids on my team understand why Scout needs to be near me.”
“Those are your real friends, Raisin. And remember, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” she said, staring at him in the rearview mirror. “You made a commitment to your team, and so you’re going to honor that commitment. Understand?”
“Fine,” he said, looking out the window. “Is Katie or Dad going to be at my game?”
“Katie slept over a friend’s house last night, and your dad’s working.”
“Okay,” he said, disappointment in his voice.
Isla turned onto the road leading to the field. A lot of cars had already gathered in the lot. She parked and guided Scout out of the backseat, then made sure to grab his blanket—or place—off the van’s floor. Scout was at work now and understood never to leave his place once she spread it over the grass on the sidelines. He would sit perfectly still on his place throughout the game, ready to pounce if he alerted on his boy.
Members of both teams ran around the field and kicked the ball around. Scout gave Raisin a perfunctory sniff before the boy ran out to join them. Then the referee arrived and blew his whistle, signaling the start of the game.
Isla stood next to the other parents, making sure Scout had enough room to see the field. She spread the place out over the grass, and the dog went into a downstay position, understanding that he was never to move from that position unless he alerted. Over his body rested the medical vest. Every parent on the team understood and valued Scout as a service dog—and knew never to scratch his ears or treat him like a family pet.
Something passed over Isla as the game started. Fear? Worry? She glanced down and noticed that Scout was staring up at her, as if worried about something. Sometimes she believed that he could actually read her mind. Two years ago Scout had detected a low sugar level in one of Raisin’s teammates, and Isla had given the kid the candy bar she kept in her pocket.