Then I adjust Frankie’s head so that it’s resting on my stomach, lie down on the blanket, and take the nap that all parents deserve.
* * *
One may think that the time to myself after Frankie goes down is the most restful and relaxing part of my day, but it is, in fact, the opposite.
In the four hours I have before I pass out for the night, I:
Finish folding laundry
Locate the half-eaten string cheese Frankie lost earlier (found in a shoe in the hall closet)
Pack Frankie’s lunch for camp tomorrow
Scrub the tank drawn in red marker off the hallway wall (washable, thank god, although red neverreallycomes out)
Think about where that extra can of wall paint went
Wipe down the kitchen
Scrape approximately seven different types of food out of the living room rug
Vacuum the apartment
Rinse the solidified toothpaste out of Frankie’s toothbrush
Pick up all the papers Frankie knocked over in my office
Locate her missing sock (found in the houseplant in my office)
Get some work done
I’m lucky I do what I do, lucky I worked my fucking ass off to get to where I was before Frankie came into my life. Flexible schedule and extremely lucrative—what more could a single parent need? I send out several emails to my various teams, and before I shut my computer for the day, I type out one more.
Dear AP Sanchez,
I hope this finds you well. My name is Dominic Flores, and I’m sending my first official email as PS 2’s new PTO President. I wanted to open up the lines of communication, and I was wondering if you might be free to meet my daughter and me for coffee before the school year begins.
I’m looking forward to hearing from you.
Best,
Dominic
I push my chair back, resting my head on the back of my chair. Time for the grand fifteen minutes of personal time I get every day. Is it a jerk it night, or am I too tired? Hey, parents have needs, too, and mine haven’t been met in… years. Since everything went down with Frankie’s mom, and then Viv right after that… I shake my head. Doesn’t matter. Not going there, not doing that again.
From seemingly nowhere, the woman from Ollie’s housewarming yesterday pops into my head. I let it linger for only a second, remembering the soft curves of her body, her riotous curls, the feline tilt of her eyes and the way they found mine across the yard. The determined strength of her gaze. The plushness of her mouth. The way it all combined to form a woman who looked like she would eat me alive. Then I shove it, body-check it, and drop-kick it out of my head.
I’m gathering the strength to get up and lock the door (you never know) when my computer dings and a new email pops up.
Hi Dominic,
Sure, would love that. How does next Saturday sound?
Best,
Lina
I decide to reply tomorrow morning, at a more reasonable hour. I get up, lock the door, and begin to imagine curly hair and cat eyes and luscious curves that would feel like heaven to melt into.
