A chill ran down my spine, all the way to my ankles. “Sweetie, I don’t get upset over messes. It doesn’t matter to me.” I hesitated to say what I was thinking, but then let it fly. “I’m not Dad.”
“I know,” she said, her jaw firm.
“I’ll stop tomorrow and pick up some supplies for your bathroom. Do you have any questions for me? Do you want me to go over how to use the tampon again?”
She shook her head. “I know how. I’m a woman, like you always told me when we went to the bathroom together when I was little. I’d ask what you were doing, and you’d say when I was a woman, I’d know. Also, like I said, we have class at school with Mrs. Roth.”
I smiled, but my chest burned with a healthy dose of love and admiration for this human being I helped to create and mold.
She is a golden cloud among all the dark ones in the sky.
“Mom, don’t cry.” Priscilla leaned forward and hugged me.
I hadn’t even realized I was tearing up.
“Okay, baby, okay,” I murmured into her beautiful head of curls, silently promising to put myself back together for her.
“Love you,” she said, and I knew I was being dismissed.
“Love you more,” I whispered back into her hair.
Shutting her door softly, I floated toward my room, knowing Tommy wasn’t home yet. I couldn’t even pretend to be upset he wasn’t here for the period moment. It certainly wasn’t something he would understand or be compassionate about.
Heading to the bathroom, I checked for any messes Priscilla might have left. Of course, nothing was out of place except for our combined mental status.
My daughter shouldn’t be afraid to grab a tampon in her own home, I thought as I stepped into the shower. Scrubbing off the day and the bad residue Mick left on my mood, I made a firm decision for the sake of my daughter.
I needed to see what was out there other than my Tommy-ruled world.
“Hi, Sheila, it’s Margaret,” I said to her when she picked up the phone much later the following day.
“Hi, Margaret, everything okay? Penny mentioned something this morning about the girls planning another sleepover this coming weekend. I’m happy to host, as usual.”
Running my hand through my loose hair, I leaned back, allowing the sun to hit my face. I’d been sitting in the yard, making some notes for an upcoming piece.
“No, nothing like that. Although, I’m happy to host. In fact, Tommy is going to Miami on Saturday for a lawyers’ convention, but that’s not why I’m calling. I spoke to my editor this morning, and the magazine is happy to be a partner for the gala. In fact, they want to send magazines for all the attendees, in addition to making a donation.”
“Really? That’s fabulous,” Sheila said, and I could practically hear her brain working over the line. “Magazines, hmm. We could do an awards-style grab bag with a few items. I wonder if you would like to secure some items? Off the top of my head, things like candles, cupcakes, maybe a little throw pillow ... you know, like they give at the Grammys. This is simply perfect with the theme being Hollywood Holidays.”
She asked how much the magazine was donating, and when I told her, she sounded impressed. Next thing I knew, she told me she was putting the magazine’s name on the banner. What she didn’t know was I told Jane, my editor, how the marketing mogul Ezra Paul was a parent at the school, and they decided to jump through every hoop possible to get to him. Jane even pulled some rank in expediting approval.
“You know what? Let’s grab coffee. How’s Monday? Then we can flush out this grab bag idea. Sound good?”
“Sure,” I said, knowing the coffee would be an approved outing for me.
“How about that little place over by the school? The one with the gluten-free muffins? Right after drop-off?”
“The Bean Stop?”
“That’s it.”
“I’ll be there. Talk later,” I said, ending the call before I backed out. Branching out and living life was on my to-do list. If working with Sheila was how I started, then that’s how it would be.
Closing my eyes, I let the sunshine pour over on me, warming me and making me feel alive before Tommy came home and black clouds filled the house.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been sitting like that when my phone rang. Without looking at caller ID, I slid my finger across the screen. “Hello?”
“Margo—”
