Are We There Yet?

by Kathleen West

  * * *

  ALICE TEXTED AT exactly eight forty-five the following morning, the time they’d agreed on pickup, from the driveway at Evelyn’s building. When Evelyn got into the car, she took quick stock of Alice’s face. She’d put on a little mascara, she noticed. Her cheeks, while slightly hollow, had color in them. “Thanks for coming,” she said tentatively.

  “Of course.” Alice didn’t look at her as she put the car in drive. “Where are we going?”

  “Take 35W,” Evelyn said. She held up her phone where she’d put the address into Waze, the app Miguel had convinced her was superior to her regular Google Maps. “The office is right next to Abbott.” That was the hospital where Teddy had been born. Evelyn remembered racing into the maternity ward, her heart bursting. She’d rounded the corner on Alice’s room to see her daughter, her dark eyes serious and also dull with exhaustion, bent over a tiny squawking bundle. Alice had beamed when she’d seen Evelyn. She had lifted Teddy as if he were one of the art projects she’d made in grade school, her craftsmanship always a step ahead of her peers’.

  Alice was quiet for a moment until she asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about the surgery?”

  “I was angry.” Evelyn lowered her visor against the bright fall sun. It would snow soon, she knew. She imagined picking Aidy up from school, hauling the boots and mismatched mittens.

  Alice accelerated down the freeway entrance ramp. “Were you planning on having Julienne drive you today?” Her voice had a steeliness to it.

  “Yep.” Evelyn kept hers level.

  “But?” Alice turned to check her blind spot. Her curly ponytail whipped over her right shoulder. Evelyn felt an urge to tug on it, to tease her as she had when Alice was Aidy’s age.

  “But.” Evelyn debated just for a few seconds, and then she spilled: “She’s having a tummy tuck. She got the dates mixed up.”

  Evelyn reached toward the radio dial and turned up the volume on the pop playlist. She’d started bobbing her head to Aidy’s favorite Ariana Grande. When she glanced over at Alice next, she had sucked her lips in and held them between her teeth. Her shoulders had started to shake with laughter. In spite of herself, Evelyn started to laugh, too. She reached over and swatted Alice on her arm.

  “Stop it,” she said.

  “Stop it?” Alice reached a hand up and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Miss Perfect Anti-Pesticide is getting plastic surgery?” She guffawed then, mouth open.

  Evelyn fought her smile. “I understand that after two pregnancies, you might have some extra skin . . .”

  “Oh, Mom,” Alice said. “You don’t have to tell me about two pregnancies. That’s what Spanx are made for.”

  After the eye surgery—routine, as Evelyn had promised, with no complications—Alice drove straight to the Sullivan house despite Evelyn’s protestations. She ushered her mother into the living room and arranged the fuchsia pillows behind her head. “We’ll order dinner,” Alice said. And when Aidy came home, the little girl curled up around Evelyn’s feet and read to her from her level G homework.

  Meredith Yoshida

  When Meredith got the email alerting her to Sadie’s report card, she purposely ignored the live link until she finished her shift. She had been working on “staying present,” an evergreen topic in Thinking Mother. And, for sure, Meredith felt she was more effective at everything when she was “in the moment.” Although she might have seen five cases of diastasis recti in a single day at the clinic, she reminded herself that each new mother was experiencing the abdominal separation differently and acutely. To have your body rebel against you when you were trying to be the mother you always imagined? Meredith needed to access all of her compassion.

  And she called on the same resources when she did finally click on Sadie’s report card from the car pool line that afternoon. As Sadie had warned her, her science grade was an actual C. A C on the report card. Meredith flashed back to that ridiculous book club when Lacy Cushing had insisted that they read The Scarlet Letter. Meredith reached inside her jacket and touched the dry fit material of her work polo over her heart. She imagined a “C” branded there instead of Hester’s “A.” “C” for “commonplace.” Middle-of-the-road. Average. Meredith drummed her chest, the tips of her fingers brushing against her jacket. On each tap, the weight of the C seemed to dissipate.

  Finally, Meredith glanced at the clock on the dash—one minute until school dismissal. She picked up her phone and opened her texts. Without thinking, she began a new message to Alice. “Sadie got a C,” she wrote. “And the weird thing is, I think I’m okay.”

  Before she clicked send, she paused. She had heard from Nadia that Teddy would attend Echo. Alice was the last person Meredith would expect to enroll her son at the hippie school. In fact, Meredith thought they could probably discuss the ethics of charter schools at one of her parenting seminars. Was it right to segment the population into little pods by niche? Nadia had also told her about Donovan’s theory that the feminist club was behind the graffiti.

  She opened the NextDoor app to check for Shirley MacIntosh’s latest indictment of the youth of Elm Creek. Sure enough, Grace Heffernan had commented on a picture from the parking garage near Alice’s office. “I think we should start considering the larger political context of these tags.” Meredith rolled her eyes. Of course, Grace would consider herself some kind of suburban Banksy.

  The car in front of Meredith’s inched ahead. Kids had started streaming from the front doors of the school. She saw Sadie’s black ponytail, higher than usual, swinging. She walked with Mikaela, who put an arm around Sadie. They could be friends, Meredith thought, as long as Sadie didn’t ask for one of those “This is what a feminist looks like” T-shirts. It wasn’t that she didn’t approve of feminism, but Meredith never wanted to see Officer Larson again. Radicalism wasn’t on the Yoshida agenda.

  When Sadie made eye contact with Meredith through the windshield, her smile immediately fell and she mouthed dramatically, The C. Meredith shrugged and put her phone back in the console without hitting send on the message to Alice. She’d be “in the moment” with Sadie on the drive home. Maybe they’d stop for a treat, celebrate a new mediocre frontier.

  And then, Meredith would email Jason Whittaker and give him a tip for who to question about the graffiti.

  Alice Sullivan

  As soon as Patrick walked in the door the following Friday, Alice could see his relief.

  “What?” she asked. She’d been prepared to hand him his to-do list: a litany of tasks related to Teddy joining the Southside Stars, as well as a waiver request for the Liston Heights Soccer Club for the winter indoor season. Rafael had emailed thanking her for the replacement Waterford she’d sent and offering to make an inquiry about spots on the Liston Heights 14U team. Patrick could make headway that weekend before they all got lost in the Christmas rush. Alice wasn’t even remotely ready for another holiday.

  Patrick kicked off his sneakers and dropped his duffel in a flourish. “The case settled!” He raised his arms. “It’s over.”

  Alice gasped. A lightness filled her as she ran to Patrick and wrapped her arms around his chest. “It’s over? No more Cincinnati?”

  “Not only is it over,” Patrick said into the top of her head, “but the deal is favorable and—you’re not going to believe this—” He pushed her away from him and stared into her eyes. “Sachman says to take next week off.”

  Alice shook her head just as Aidy slid between them. Patrick let go of Alice and lifted their daughter, feigning strain at her weight. “Have you grown again?” Patrick said at the same time Alice shouted, “The week off?”

  Patrick laughed. “Can you believe it?”

  Alice shook her head and joined the hug. “I can’t remember this ever happening. I mean, has this ever happened?”

  “Has what ever happened?” Alice swiveled her head toward Teddy. His hair looked
adorably messy, and she smiled at his new Echo T-shirt, the block letter “C” covered in ivy.

  “Dad has a week off.” Aidy stroked Alice’s hair, a motherly gesture that made Alice giggle.

  “Can I do a braid?” Aidy asked.

  “Maybe after dinner.” Alice extended her arm back toward Teddy. “Get in here,” she said, definitive. Will he? She waited, and then after a second, she peeked at him. He’d stepped toward them, at least. She extended her fingers and grabbed the sleeve of his light green T-shirt, and he let himself be pulled.

  * * *

  PATRICK TOOK THE call from the Liston Heights 14U coach on January second. Evelyn had gone to Julienne’s on Christmas Eve while Alice and Patrick had hosted Nadia, Ajay, and Donovan. The kids had opened the new Xbox, and all three played without incident after dinner. The following week, Alice had been working from home on some drawings for the Kerrigan bathroom, but stopped when she heard Patrick’s excited tone. “Indoor, too?” Alice stood and leaned against the frame between the kitchen and the family room. “Oh, that’s great.” Patrick made a fist and lifted it as if in victory. “He’ll be thrilled, and I appreciate so much your understanding. I’ll look forward to the email. Yes. Thanks again.”

  When he hung up, he beamed at Alice. “He’s in at Liston Heights. God bless Rafael!” Alice indulged her husband’s campy high five and then turned back to her work. She thought of Julienne, recovered now from her surgery. Evelyn had suggested last week that the three of them go out for a glass of wine, but Alice had demurred. “Not yet,” she’d told her mother. But she planned to announce that week that she’d like to invite the Martíns for dinner to celebrate the soccer news. She’d include her mother as well.

  Well, “like to invite” was perhaps a stretch, Alice thought. “Agreed that civility and graciousness were worthy aims” was more accurate. In the meantime, Teddy would go watch Miguel’s soccer game that weekend. The two had been texting while Alice looked over Teddy’s shoulder. Teddy showed Alice the full exchange with Miguel, and she’d worked hard not to flinch when she realized they referred to each other as “cuz.” Teddy had shown her another message, too—one to Sadie. “I’m sorry,” Teddy had written. Almost immediately, Sadie had typed back, “Me, too,” and that was it.

  Alice planned to discuss the new soccer opportunity and the apology with Nadia when the two of them went for their power walk on Sunday morning. It still felt weird to walk without Meredith, but Alice was getting used to it.

  “It’s okay,” Nadia had said when Alice apologized for breaking up the friend group at the wine bar. “People become friends in all kinds of circumstances. For us, it was kindergarten round-up. But priorities change. People change.” She had raised her glass to clink it with Alice’s.

  “But I don’t want to be responsible for ending your friendship with Meredith,” Alice had said.

  Nadia had put her wineglass down and grabbed a bruschetta. “I make my own choices.” She bit off half of the bread, and then, with her mouth full, said, “You don’t have to worry about me.”

  When the two of them met at the Elm Creek Park trailhead on Sunday morning, Alice wordlessly pointed at Meredith’s Jeep, which was already parked there. She felt tempted to leave, but Nadia shrugged and started on their usual path. The park staff had replaced the defaced sign, and Shirley MacIntosh had posted on NextDoor the article from the local paper that detailed the charges and fines incurred by Grace Heffernan and Elizabeth Hunt. “We regret the property damage,” Grace had told the reporter, “but we hope people remember our larger message about women’s equality and the objectification of women’s bodies.”

  Alice found it hard to believe that normally astute moms could have been so misguided. If ever there were good candidates for Meredith’s ethical parenting group, she’d thought.

  In the park, Alice jogged after Nadia to catch up. The two had discussed the Liston Heights soccer team and Donovan’s plans to overwinter the pollinator garden when Alice saw Lacy Cushing and Meredith walking toward them. Alice stopped, just as she’d done the last time this had happened, but Meredith just smiled at them and waved as she passed. “Hey!” Lacy called breezily. And in a second, the encounter was over.

  Teddy Sullivan

  One Month Later

  The Sullivans were leaving in fifteen minutes for Miguel’s soccer game, and Teddy pulled on the U.S. Women’s National Team T-shirt Nana had given him as a “back to school” present when he’d started at Echo. “I’m proud of you,” she’d said as he opened the gift during one of their Tuesday night dinners.

  His parents had said the same thing lately. They were proud of him, and as far as Teddy could tell, it didn’t have much to do with soccer or grades. They didn’t even get grades at Echo—just written evaluations. Teddy wasn’t doing anything special. He just went to school. He continued therapy and nature group with Milo. His mom had taken to shoving a whole roll of poop bags into his pocket when he left with Weasley on their walks.

  Teddy had started Liston Heights soccer, but much to his relief, his team didn’t face Elm Creek Premier until midway through the indoor season. Teddy wasn’t looking forward to seeing Landon and McCoy, and especially not Tane. But Milo had advised him to take one day, one game, one interaction at a time. It was getting so Teddy could predict Milo’s advice. He’d told his mom about the therapist’s suggestions, and then he also recommended that she herself see a counselor. Milo had encouraged him to do this, actually, but he didn’t tell his mom that part. It had come up because he’d told Milo she always seemed so stressed.

  “Therapy is good, Mom,” he’d said. “You’re the one who told me it would be. You should try it.” She hadn’t answered him right then, but he had heard her on the phone with Nana later, asking for a recommendation.

  Teddy thought his mom seemed tense, but not too hyper, as they drove to the Liston Heights soccer dome where Miguel’s team would be playing. She kept skipping songs on her favorite Spotify playlist and finally handed the phone over to Aidy to play the Hamilton soundtrack. Teddy rolled his eyes. Aidy had been singing butchered lyrics to “My Shot” and “The Schuyler Sisters” for weeks. Once they’d parked next to Nana’s car in the lot, Teddy led his family through the pressurized doorway of the dome and scanned the soccer fields. He saw Miguel right away, his green Liston Heights jersey glowing in the bright, artificial light.

  Teddy jogged ahead and high-fived Laura as she ran past him toward Aidy. He looked over his shoulder, and Laura lifted his sister. “Aidy girl!” he heard her say. “I brought my old Nate the Greats for when we get bored!” Laura had been at their house three times that month, snuggling with Adrian on the couch during her reading homework time.

  Teddy stopped jogging when he’d reached Nana, Raf, and Julienne. “Hey!” he said.

  Rafael offered his fist for a bump and Julienne gave him a side hug. Nana pointed at his T-shirt. “Love it!” she said, and then walked back to greet his parents. When they all stood together, Teddy peered at his mom. Her shoulders seemed stiff, but she was smiling. A real smile, Teddy thought. She looked for Miguel on the field and gave a wave when they made eye contact, just like she always did when she arrived at Teddy’s games.

  Alice Sullivan

  Hey,” Alice typed to Bea Kerrigan. “After we finalize the tile, do you want to grab coffee on our way to the FSC?” As soon as she sent the text, she shook her head. If someone had told her three months ago that she’d be making time for the Family School Collective, Echo’s version of the PTA, she would have laughed.

  But when Jasper had called her at Bea Kerrigan’s suggestion, she’d agreed almost immediately. They could use an expert in architecture, he’d told her. Her heart had swelled. He had mentioned The Third Teacher, a book that espoused the idea that an educational environment was as important as the people in the space. She’d read it, of course, as part of her training.

  And, more important,
she wanted to invest in her friendship with Bea. She liked the younger woman. The two of them had grabbed dinner after a couple of late-afternoon design meetings. Alice had introduced her to Nadia at the wine bar just the week before.

  Bea sent back a thumbs-up as Alice started her car and headed out of the Elm Creek Elementary lot. At a follow-up conference for Aidy, Miss Miller had told Patrick and Alice that she was impressed by Adrian’s quick progression from level E to G. “Even if we’re not at M by the end of the year,” the young woman had said, “I think she’ll be more than ready for third grade. And she says she’s being tutored by an older cousin?” Miss Miller showed them a drawing Aidy had made of herself and Laura, big smiles overtaking the majority of her figures’ faces.

  Alice nodded. Laura, Alice had to admit, was lovely. And she had her driver’s license. Alice and Patrick had been happy to hire her as a babysitter after they’d discussed it at that dinner Alice had hosted. By the time the Martíns had made it to their house for Alice’s go-to company lasagna, the custom paint job in the dining room had been finalized. A grasslike pattern wound up the walls, and a whimsical pair of bare feet hid in the corner. “Like earthing,” Teddy had said to Julienne when he’d pointed it out. Laura’s babysitting was a boon for Teddy, too. She marginally supervised when Alice and Patrick were both at their offices after school. Alice and Patrick hadn’t told Miss Miller at the conference that they’d tentatively planned to enroll Adrian at Echo the following year. She’d be in the same class as Maisie Kerrigan, Bea’s daughter. The learning specialist at Echo had done some preliminary testing with Adrian. “She’ll be successful here,” the woman said, despite her acknowledgment that there were some “quirks” in her reading and processing. Teddy had walked down to meet them after the testing, his knees dirty from his work in the outdoor classroom, and Alice agreed with the learning specialist. They’d all felt successful at Echo.