“Okay. Talk soon,” Calvin says.
“Bye.” I hang up and slip the phone into the stroller’s caddy. Showered, on my way to get groceries, have a potential date lined up—today is going my way.
CHAPTER TWELVE
I squeeze a week’s worth of groceries into the bottom of Willow’s stroller and hook a few bags on the handlebars before heading back out into the early autumn day. Just under three months ago, I left this parking lot to meet my sister for the first time, and today, I left the store with her. If anyone had labelled me as the local grocery-cart abandoner, they didn’t show it. There were no wanted posters, at least.
I still feel as unqualified to be a guardian as I did then, but I haven’t questioned my decision once. I won’t. Willow should be with family. Everyone should be, if they have a choice.
I decide to take the long way home through the park since the stroller seems to be the one thing Willow doesn’t vocalise her hatred towards.Another victory. The trees are browning, and crisp leaves crackle under the spinning wheels of the buggy. The air is still and peaceful. I talk out loud to Willow—I read somewhere that it’s a good thing to do with babies.
“Someday we’ll come here to go on the slide at the playground, Will. Would you like that?” She isn’t much of a conversationalist, but I persevere. “You’re going to love the park. You can go on the swings, climb ladders. You’ll do it all.” I look down at her, still so small but growing every day. “I’m so proud of you, Will. You’re doing so well.”
Strong brows, strongnoses, strong bodies, strong hearts.Another woman born into this family—already proving our mother right with her ability to survive all she threw at her.
I pass by a group of teenagers huddled around and spot a familiar face resting against a fence post. From the path, I can see Luke clearly, but I doubt he can see me. He’s with some friends, a few girls, but mostly guys—they all look to be his age. The girls are signing back and forth, though I can’t make out what they’re saying from here. I should probably keep going and mind my own business. But is he allowed to leave school property mid-morning?
“Willow, don’t look now, but your friend Luke is over there. Do you know what a group of teenagers is called? Hooligans.”
I step back to get momentum to push the heavy stroller forward after stopping to look. I notice one of the girls handing Luke a cigarette. Actually, based on the smell that’s wafting around the park—it’s not a cigarette at all.I know that smell, kid. I spot a picnic table about fifteen feet away from their group and push Willow towards it. I won’t shame him in front of his friends, but I do want him to know he’s busted.
I sit at the table and take my coffee out of the stroller caddy. Simply a mom sitting with her daughter at the park. Luke’s friends will be none the wiser. Luke spots me, and I do a polite wave. He stiffens but plays it cool for the sake of his comrades, who are now looking my way as well. I pull out my phone to appear unaware. When I look back up, the group is making their way to the park’s exit, which, if I remember correctly, is at least in the direction of their school.
I rise from the table, feeling victorious. “We’re going to have to talk to Grumps later, Willow. Your friend Luke was up to no good.” These are probably not the phrases the mommy blogs would recommend, but they’ll have to do.
A few hours after we’ve returned home, I get Willow down for her nap and throw myself dramatically back on the couch. As I twiddle my thumbs, I try to decide whether to work, eat, nap or do laundry. OptionE, scrolling on my phone, seems like the obvious choice. As I pull it out of my back pocket, the apartment door unlocks and opens. Luke’s backpack hits the floor, and I check the time—it’s far too early for him to be home. No sign of Warren either. I sit up so I can see the hallway from the couch.
“Hey.”
“Hi.”Luke walks around to sit on the floor in front of the armchair.
“You all right?”
“No.”His eyes are blank.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I know you saw me earlier.”Luke bites his cheek.
I shuffle my leg under me, bracing for a tricky conversation.“Yeah, I did.”
“Are you going to tell Warren?”
“I think I should.”
Luke leans, placing the back of his head onto the seat of the chair. His eyes stare up at the ceiling far above us. He has one benefit that most teenagers don’t have, I suppose, being able to tune out adults whenever he wants.
I throw a couch pillow on his lap.“You know, Warren will probably go easier on you if you tell him first.”
“I think I’m fucked either way.”
“Ok, dial it back. I’m also fairly certain you’re not supposed to be home from school right now.”
“I don’t feel well.”
Luke’s skin is paler than usual. There’s a slight sheen to his forehead, and his eyes are red.“Nauseous?”I ask.
“Yeah.”
