I shovedJace’sblanket at him and wiped some of his tears away with it before hitting the button to close the door on my super-sleek minivan. I threw myself into the front seat and jammed my seatbelt into place.
The two kids screamed out their protests in a serious show of inflexibility and willpower. My head pounded with a nasty headache and my stomach churned with the task ahead of me.
I rushed out of the garage, careful of the side mirrors, and down the long, slanted driveway. Once on the street, I shoved the gearshift into drive and the engine gave a jolt of protest.
I didn’t have time to care. And I really didn’t have time to pacify my screaming children. With my eyes on the road, I pushed the right buttons and breathed a slow sigh of relief when I heard the screen slide into place behind me. The movie I’d listened to for approximately seventy-seven days straight turned on and the banshee shrieking died down.
I gave my new neighbor’s house an assessing glance before focusing on getting out of the neighborhood. I hadn’t seen Ben Tyler in almost a week, not since I’d returned his towels. He’d kept to himself after the day we met and I’d been too busy to notice. Over the weekend I thought we might run into each other, but he hadn’t made an appearance and I decided to be thankful I didn’t get another opportunity to make a jackass of myself.
The drive to the elementary school only took fifteen minutes, but we were already fifteen minutes late. I was supposed to be there right now.
Shit.
I had a meeting with the school counselor. I was sure she expected me to be late, but that didn’t make me any less stressed. I hadn’t been the best about getting places on time before Grady died. Now that I had no help getting out of the house or into the car, my punctuality had become a joke.
I sometimes tried to analyze why it was so much harder now than it was before. Even when Grady was alive, he hadn’t helped me get the kids to school. He had to leave for work almost an hour before the kids got up. And I always picked them up by myself too.
Somehow the absence of his normal absence made everything worse and my occasional-tardiness had evolved into a perpetual inability to arrive anywhere on time.
Even though Grady hadn’t helped me before, everything was just harder now. It didn’t matter what.Putting mascara on felt a thousand times more difficult than it ever had, or getting dressed, or hell, even getting up.I just couldn’t manage the way I used to.
I kept waiting for the day everything would snap back into place for me. Sure, there were things that would always be hard, always require more effort on my part without my husband by my side. But getting out of the house or up in the morning or those small things that had been mine in the first place should just happen like they always had.
Why did Grady’s death spread to every aspect of my life? Why couldn’t some things remain untouched by grief?
By the time I slammed on the brakes and shut the engine off in front of the elementary school, my two little ones had stopped sniffling and fighting their seatbelts. Two actual seconds of blissful silence passed before Lucy started fighting her restraints andJacebegan crying again.
The end of school coincided with the end of his nap. The temper tantrum was something I was used to, but that didn’t make it any easier.
I grabbed my purse, stuffed with diapers and wipes, double-checked that I put my keys and phone in there, then wrestledJacefrom his seat. I got Lucy out next, with one hand whileJacesobbed loudly onto my blouse.
It was black, which hopefully hid the wetness, but could never disguise the snot I knew he left behind.
The door closed with excruciating slowness. I locked the van with the push of my thumb and hauled the children with me into the school building.
School would get out in ten minutes. The counselor had wanted thirty minutes with me, but she would have to settle for seven. I felt near tears by the time I shoved the office door open and stepped inside the frigid place.
The line of secretaries looked up at me with knowing, sympathetic smiles. I avoided the pity in their eyes and shuffled to the desk.
“I have a meeting with Ms. Conway,” I told them.
The closest secretary slid the sign-in sheet toward me and handed over a pen. “She’s waiting for you. You can go right in.”
I finished filling in the necessary information and turned to the appropriate door. I tugged Lucy along with me and readjustedJacein my arms. I flashed an apologetic smile at Ms. Conway and hoped I could charm her out of thinking I was the worst single parent alive.
No luck.
“Hi, Liz, how are you?”
“Fine.” I grabbed the back of Lucy’s collar before she could make a bee-line for the breakable animal figurines lining Conway’s desk. Harriet Conway was ten years older than me and had been single her entire life. I hadn’t heard of a man that had ever been able to pass her impossible standards for more than the first date. She had intimidated me before, but now,nowthat I was a useless parent, drowning in a sea of impossible expectations, she terrified me.
I often gave myselfthe I’m-a-grownup-too speech. The one where I tried to convince myself that I was her equal in all things and that she had no authority overme, only my children. I swore to myself there was no need to fear her because honestly, what could she do to me?
But every time I stood in front of her, I felt myself shrink back and cower. I couldn’t help it. Maybe if I’d felt like I was doing something right, or could get the kids to school just once on time, I’d have felt like I could stand on my own two feet. But that wasn’t the case.
Instead, she seemed to reflect all my failures back at me and demand more of me as a parent than I knew I could give.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the dated orange chairs in front of her desk and I obliged. I set Lucy up and reminded her to be quiet and then I made a snifflingJacecomfortable on my lap.
