“Methinks she’s hedging.” Maddie stared at me.
“How come Maddie can get away with things, but I can’t?”
“Because you’re avoiding the conversation.” Sarah’s expression dared me to rebut her claim.
I slumped further into my chair, careful not to jostle my daughter too much. “I don’t know how to answer, because I truly don’t know how I feel. Part of me thinks I should be outraged that my father cheated. Part of me doesn’t give two shits, making me feel like the world’s worst daughter. These polar opposites are swirling in my head. So when you ask me to explain, I can’t.”
“You’re conflicted.” Sarah cut to the heart of the matter.
“Very much. It’d kill me if you cheated. I didn’t know Mom well, but my Spidey sense tells me she’d have been pissed.”
“Spidey sense?” Maddie quirked a brow.
“Lizzie’s been brushing up on lingo to communicate better with her students and with the babies.” She waved a hand at Ollie. “So you want to begrudge your father his happiness because your mother would be pissed if he got married? Doesn’t Charles deserve some happiness in his life?”
I massaged my forehead. “I don’t begrudge him anything. I just don’t know how to accept it without feeling like I’m betraying my own mother.”
“Who hated you.” Maddie took a stuffed bumblebee from the wheelbarrow and jabbed it into her chest.
“Nice action there.” I smiled, and she mimed bowing in her chair.
“Hey, I’m as shocked as the rest of you,” I added. “Mom doesn’t conjure up many warm, cuddly feelings.”
Sarah inhaled deeply. “I think you should sit down with your father and talk this over.”
“Uh, no.” I tried to sink even further into the chair.
“Why?” She tossed her hands up. “It’s called communication. I know you and your therapist have been working on it for quite some time.”
“With the people in my life. Dad isn’t—”
Sarah’s face immediately reddened, registering fury. “—a part of your life?”
I put a finger to my lips. “Steady. I wasn’t going to say that.” Maybe I was, but it was best to change course—fast! “Dad isn’t the best at communication. If you think I’m quiet, he hasn’t carried on a conversation since… ever.”
Sarah bobbed her head to concede the point.
“But why didn’t he divorce my mother? At least give her a shred of her dignity back.”
“Why do you think it was your dad who didn’t want a divorce? Have you forgotten what your mother was like?” Maddie boosted the strap over her head and placed the camera on the coffee table.
“I’ll never be able to forget what she was like.” I rubbed Ollie’s cheek.
“Exactly.” Maddie leaned back on the couch. “You’re asking questions that only one person can answer, and if I know Charles at all, he’ll take his secrets to the grave unless you ask him.”
“Not all of them. He plans to marry one.”
Sarah glanced at the baby monitor on the side table. Freddie was making cooing sounds, but he wasn’t completely awake.
Sarah squeezed my leg. “I understand this must be hard. I do. But your reaction scares me some.”
“Why would disgust at my father cheating on my mother scare you? Shouldn’t it make you feel secure?”
Freddie belted out a primal scream that made all three of us turn toward the baby monitor.
Maddie hopped up. “I’ll check on him.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said, watching as Maddie disappeared up the staircase. When she turned back to me, she shook her head sadly. “It’s not that. It’s how you act when people make mistakes. Humans aren’t perfect. Sometimes we have to remember to judge a person not by what they’ve done but by how they recover from their mistakes.” Her eyes lingered on Ollie, still sleeping in the crook of my arm. “It’s easy to write off a person when they’ve disappointed us. Accepting people as they are takes love, patience, and forgiveness. But you already know that. I’ve forgiven your mistakes, and you’ve forgiven mine. I just wish you could use what you’ve learned in therapy and extend it to your father. You only have one—you’re lucky he’s still around.” Her eyes were moist. “I wish my father could have met our children.”
I reached for her hand. “I know, sweetheart. He would be so proud of you. You’re a wonderful woman, wife, mother, teacher, and all-round great person with such a big heart.” I sighed. “I’ll try to come around and fast. I promise.”
“I know you will. You’re stubborn, and I tease you all the time about being an idiot when it comes to relationships, but you really are amazing, Lizzie. Let others see what I know. Let more people into the inner sanctum.”
We laughed, both relieved the conversation had ended on a positive note. It was the most we’d said to each other since the twins’ birth.
Olivia wriggled and rubbed an eye with one small fist.
“Lunchtime, sweet girl?” Sarah lifted Ollie from my arms, letting her gaze rest on my face for a brief moment.
“Well, that was the most disgusting diaper I’ve ever changed,” Maddie said, still rubbing sanitizing lotion into her hands. “What are you feeding him?” Nodding at Ollie, who was now firmly attached to Sarah’s breast, she added, “I don’t recommend sucking on Sarah’s nipples anytime soon. You’ll be on the shitter for days.”
My mouth fell open.
Sarah grinned. “After having these little sharks feed on me every hour, I don’t think I’ll ever let anyone so much as look at my breasts. I’ve never felt sorry for cows before. Now I doubt I’ll ever drink another glass of milk. This is inhumane.” She lovingly brushed the top of Ollie’s head, blunting her criticism of breastfeeding.
Maddie’s cell buzzed. She inspected the screen and then stashed it to the side, disappointed.
“Not who you wanted?”
“Just Kit inviting me for drinks later.”
“How’s that situation going?” Sarah asked.
“About as you two suspected, I think.”
“And how’s that?”
“Miserable. Not sure how much longer I can stand it.”
Chapter Twelve
Saturday morning, Sarah staggered into the kitchen, her hair askew. Even the bags under her eyes had bags. “Why in the world did we have twins?”
“Seemed too cruel to cull the herd when they were still inside.” I pushed a cup of herbal tea across the kitchen island to her as she plunked herself down on a barstool and supported her head on her hands.
“If you had to choose to put one up for adoption, which would it be?”
I clamped my mouth shut. Sarah was beyond exhausted, but once some life started to coarse through her weary body, it was possible she’d make me pay for answering honestly. “I’m going to get the paper.”
“Coward,” she called after me.
Birds twittered outside, our quiet street serenely tranquil so early in the morning despite the chill that hung in the air. The cold worked its way through my lungs, perking me up even more than my cup of chai had. Placing my hands on my hips, I tilted my face to the low-hanging sun, soaking in the vastness of nothing. No crying babies. No whining spouse. No students. No administrative assistant shrieking that getting thirty-five copies of a handout by the following morning was impossible. Just me and the stillness.
Fuck, I felt alive. Happy. But I didn’t want to leave Sarah alone for too long with the twinkies.
I strolled down the end of the drive to collect my paper, still enchanted by the calm—until I saw the puddle under my paper. While Sarah and I had recently welcomed twins, George from across the street had brought home an adorable Yorkie. Seriously, the thing could fit into the palm of my hand. How could such a tiny creature create such a massive puddle of piss? And why on my newspaper?
I plucked the paper up by a corner, hoping I could salvage some sections. Alas, it was hopeless. With a groan, I let the pee-soaked
newsprint splatter to the ground.
The exhaustion that had been welling in the pit of my stomach exploded into rage. “Goddammit, Gandhi! I’m going to kill you, ya little rat bastard!”
Betty, the old woman from next door, had slipped outside, ninja-like, and gasped at my outburst.
As my own words hit me, I wondered why George had named his Yorkie Gandhi.
I waved awkwardly to Betty, who was still clutching her chest as if Satan himself had said hello.
“And I thought I was being unreasonable this morning.” Sarah stood on our front stoop with Freddie on her hip.
“That damn dog pissed on my paper. Again.” From the look of amusement on Sarah’s face, my defense was flimsy.
George had been the first neighbor to officially welcome our children to the Whipple Street club. The curtain in his front room shifted an inch. “Shit. He heard.”
“I think the astronauts in space heard you. Honestly, I didn’t know you had it in you.” She flicked her head, beckoning me back indoors before I could cause more trouble.
“I didn’t mean… I mean, I’m not happy about the paper, but I didn’t mean… I’m just so tired.”
“Spit it out.” Sarah’s smile irked me. “Gandhi got your tongue?”
I cringed.
Fortunately, Ollie wailed, and I trudged upstairs to the nursery. More than likely, Sarah was already concocting a plan for me to apologize to George. Hopefully, I didn’t have to apologize to Betty, who was sweet as pie, too. Just the thought made me nervous. No one was that sweet, unless she was a brilliant psychopath.
By the time I’d changed Ollie and taken her downstairs, Sarah had buckled Freddie into his bouncer and opened the New York Times on her iPad for me to read. “Maybe if you read the newspaper on the iPad, we could avoid having neighbor issues.”
“I like the feel of newsprint. What can I say?”
“More than I think you should. Shall I refresh your memory about what occurred less than ten minutes ago?” She sipped her tea, which was surely tepid by now. “I think a gift basket will do the trick.”
“He’s diabetic.” I bounced Ollie on my hip.
“No. A basket full of dog toys. You didn’t threaten to kill George, just Gandhi—the only thing he has in his lonely life. The man’s wife hasn’t been in the ground for a year yet.”
I put up one palm. “Please stop. I feel bad enough.”
Sarah turned to Freddie. “You see, Fred. This is what happens when you and your sister don’t let us sleep. Now I have to spend the morning shopping for a gift basket for a dog that’s a third of your size.” Freddie cooed at Sarah as if he’d understood everything she said. Ollie, on the other hand, spit up on my shirt.
“Can you order me some more T-shirts?” I asked.
“We have a washing machine. Why do you insist on tossing out every shirt that gets a little puke on it?”
I whirled around to show her the damage. “You call that a little puke? You gave birth to the exorcist child.”
“Come here, baby girl.” Sarah held her arms out. “You should shower.” She nodded for me to take my leave while I could.
***
Ethan sat at a table for two in the coffee shop of Barnes & Noble, his eyes on the door. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”
I rubbernecked over my shoulder.
“Nice try. You look like shit.” His grin was a weak attempt to camouflage his I told you babies had a way of running even the most organized person ragged expression.
“Thanks, buddy. How are you?”
“One thousand percent better than you. Have you slept at all since bringing the poop machines home?”
“Sleeping? What’s that?” I drummed my fingers on the table, and then added in a robot voice, “Does not compute.”
He chuckled. “I don’t miss the first year. It does get easier, though.” He shifted in his chair. “Okay, not easier, but you’ll start sleeping again in about”—he glanced at his bare wrist—“seven months.”
“That’s one of the things I love about you. You always keep it real.” I eyed the six-person line at the register and exhaled in frustration, my breath rustling the loose strands of hair around my face. “You know, I had this foolish notion that because I’ve suffered insomnia since high school I wouldn’t be affected by sleep deprivation. That I’d be used to being exhausted.” I leaned over the table. “I had no fucking clue what I was getting into.”
He broke into a belly laugh. “So, all the alarms on your fancy sports watch aren’t helping?” He paused. “Trust me. No one knows what it’s like being a parent until they become one.”
The line at the register shortened. “What can I get you?” I asked him.
“My usual, please.”
Several moments later, I returned to the table with his regular cup of joe, fresh fruit, and a new concoction I hadn’t tried before.
Ethan set his book down and peered at my espresso con panna, which came in a fancy clear coffee glass. “No chai today?”
“I thought I’d try an espresso. Knock the cobwebs out of my head.” I tapped my temple. “The dude suggested this as an introduction for espresso virgins. The dollop of whipped cream is supposed to make it more palatable.”
“That’s so like you, to jump into a hardcore drink after drinking a wimpy one for years. This I can’t wait to see.” He steepled his fingertips together.
“Geez, you make it sound like I’ve only ever had chai.”
“I’ve never seen you drink coffee. Black tea, yes. But espresso—no way. Not even in grad school when you pulled all-nighters all the time.” His eyes widened, and a slight smile twisted his lips. “Go on. Wait…” He fished his phone from his pocket and held it with both hands. “Now, go.”
Cautiously, I elevated the harsh smelling drink to my lips. I hesitated.
“You can do it,” Ethan urged.
“Um…”
“Don’t overthink it.” His expression tried to convey support.
“Fine. Here goes nothing.” I sipped it, immediately spitting the vile fluid into a napkin. “Oh my God! That’s hideous!” The barista had tried to talk me into a latte, but I’d been adamant I needed more kick.
Ethan’s shoulders shook with laughter, but he never lowered the phone. His cell bounced up and down as his body jiggled. “Try it again, now that the shock has worn off.”
I did, with nearly the same result. At least I was able to forcefully swallow this time.
Several people turned, their mouths hanging open as Ethan panned to the crowd.
“Enjoying yourself?” I wiped my tongue with the napkin and popped two grapes into my mouth in a weak attempt to extinguish the taste.
“Oh, yes!” He continued filming. “Children, animals, and idiots make the best YouTube videos.” He winked.
I dumped two packets of raw sugar into the drink and motioned for him to put the camera away.
“No way. Come on. Give it another try.”
I really didn’t want to. But neither did I want to throw out a drink I’d already paid for. The third sip wasn’t as bad.
“It’s like beer, really. Takes some getting used to.” Ethan tucked his phone away now that my antics had subsided. “You might want to keep trying though, just in case Sarah ever decides to have another kid.”
For a moment, I stopped breathing.
Ethan palm-slapped his forehead. “Damn, I put the camera away too soon. Your face right now is priceless.”
“I think my heart stopped.” I took a healthy slug of the still bitter liquid.
“Shall I get you another?”
His jovial tone annoyed me. “A chai would be great.”
He groaned as he stood to get in line. “Wimp!” he sniped over his shoulder.
“That’s rich coming from the man who orders the same drink every single time. At least I’m trying new things.”
“How’s it working out for you?” He
stepped up to the cashier, not bothering to wait for a reply.
I continued to sip the espresso. Although both Sarah and I had trust funds and I now had a part-time job, I was racked with financial worries. Babies were expensive. They were growing so quickly that half their clothes would only fit for a few more weeks. Sarah and Maddie kept insisting on buying cute little shoes to complement every outfit, never mind that they were babies and neither of them could walk, rendering the shoes useless.
“Here you go.” Ethan plopped the chai down on the table.
“Shall we find a quiet spot behind a stack of books?” The café was tucked in the front of the store, by the magazine racks, and the noise from customers and registers rattled my overwrought nerves.
“What? This isn’t romantic enough for you?” He gestured to the overall messiness of the jostling crowd.
I motioned for him to grab his drink. “Come on. There’s usually a few chairs in the home improvement section.”
Sure enough, we located four empty chairs and a small table.
I collapsed into a seat and immediately took a long sip of my chai. “You’re the best BFF ever.” I chugged the scorching liquid again to nullify the lingering taste of espresso and chased that with an apple slice.
“BFF? Text speech? You must be delusional. Soon you’ll know what AYSOS stands for?”
I took a stab in the dark. “Ah! You! Help!”
He laughed. “Not quite. Try: Are you stupid or something?”
“You’ve been keeping that one in your back pocket, haven’t you?”
He grinned sheepishly. “Maybe.”
“Sometimes I think my only reason for existence on this planet is for my friends’ amusement.”
“It’s not your sole purpose. You’re teaching again, remember?”
“And changing diapers.”
Ethan pinched his nose and waved a hand. “Oh, I don’t miss that stage at all.”
Sarah appeared around the corner, pushing the twins in a stroller. “I thought I’d find you here.”
“Where are Lisa and Casey?” I asked.
“Still attending story time. Ollie started to get fussy.” Setting one hand on the stroller, she rocked it back and forth.
A Family Woman Page 17