"Mama! Will said that I can come home with him from school tomorrow and play. You have to call his mom first, though." Six-year-old Jackson Austin bounded through the front door of his apartment.
"Hey, sweetie. How was your day at school?" His mother, Kate, asked.
"It was ok. So, are you gonna call his mom?" Jackson dropped his backpack and coat on the floor and looked up at his mother with his big, deep brown eyes. Kate smiled at him and nodded.
"Do you have the phone number?" She asked, picking up her son's coat and hanging it up in the hall closet.
"Uh-huh. It's right here." The boy nodded, unzipping the front of his backpack and pulling out a slip of paper. Kate took the paper, and saw a phone number scrawled in a blue crayon. She smiled to herself, and picked up the phone. Jackson stood by the counter, watching her as she dialed the number.
"Hello?" The voice on the other end of the line answered.
"Hi. Is this Mrs. Thompson?" Kate asked.
"Yes. May I ask who's calling?" The woman replied.
"This is Kate Austin. My son is friends with Will. He said something about them getting together to play." Kate explained.
"Oh, is your son Jackson?" Mrs. Thompson questioned.
"Yeah." Kate nodded, although she knew the woman couldn't see her.
"I was planning on having Jackson over this Saturday, but I'm afraid that I have to work that afternoon and my husband will be out of town. Will's going to stay with my brother until I get home later that night." Mrs. Thompson told Kate.
"Well…" Kate was about to tell the woman that the boys could play some other time, but when she glanced down at Jackson, she quickly changed her mind.
"Would it be too much trouble for me to come pick Will up from your brother's, and he could stay over here and play? I'm not working Saturday. Then you could come here to get him after you get off of work." Kate suggested.
"That would be wonderful! My brother is a workaholic, and I'm always telling him to take a few days off. Then when he finally does, I'm dropping my kid off at his house." Will's mother laughed.
"Ok, good. What time should I get Will?" Kate asked.
"Ummm, could you get him around ten? I'll be dropping him off at seven, but there's no need for you to pick him up that early." Mrs. Thompson responded.
"Sure. Where does your brother live?" Kate grabbed a pen and notepad from the counter, expecting directions.
"In Prospect Heights. Third house on the right." The woman answered.
"Prospect Heights?" Kate raised her eyebrows at the mention of the ritzy neighborhood.
"Yeah, he's a doctor." Mrs. Thompson laughed softly.
"Oh, I see." Kate smiled.
"Jack practically lives at that hospital. He's not married, so no one's ever at his house. You should see the inside of it!" Mrs. Thompson exclaimed.
"What's it like?" Kate asked.
"Well, his kitchen…" The woman launched into a detailed description of the messy and unkempt condition of her brother's house. Kate laughed.
"Sounds interesting." She joked.
"Yeah, sometimes I come over and just clean for him." Will's mother sighed.
"Well, I'll plan on picking Will up at about ten, Mrs. Thompson." Kate wrapped up the phone call. She wasn't a big fan of talking too long on the phone.
"Ok, thanks a bunch. Oh, and please call me Janet." The woman added.
"Alright. 'Bye." Kate hung up and smiled down at Jackson. The boy's eyes widened and he gave a grin, revealing gaps from missing teeth.
"Will gets to come here?" Jackson exclaimed, jumping up and down.
"Yeah. Saturday." Kate nodded.
"When's that?" Her son squinted, trying to think.
"Not tomorrow, but the next day." Kate replied.
"Oh, boy!" Jackson shouted, and threw his arms
around his mom. Kate smiled, and kissed the top of his head, where a
mess of shaggy brown hair lay.
Jackson ran off to his room to go
play with his toys.
Kate sat on the couch, and turned on the TV. She tried watching some action-packed movie that was on, but she found herself thinking about the phone conversation. Something that Janet had said bothered Kate, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it. Oh well, it's probably nothing. Kate thought, shrugging it off.