Only desperation caused Wendy to impose.
When the car wouldn’t start, she’d called Linette, her boss, owner of Baker Street Bakery, to warn her she’d be late. Linette had insisted on coming to get her, as well as dropping Sam off. “You know I have kids at the same school,” she’d said. “And I can swing by the bakery to drop you off on my way into town on my supply run.”
Wendy had thanked her gratefully, and began to apologize, but Linette cut into that. “I hope after all these months you’d think of me more as a friend than a boss,” she said. “And don’t think I’ll be shy about asking you to watch my young monsters someday, if things get tight. As they do for single moms. I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“Aw, Mom,” came from the back seat. “Why are you calling us monsters? Wefightmonsters.”
“Not at school, you don’t. I better not find any game devices in your backpack, or it gets grounded for a month!”
“Geez, Mom. It’s right on my desk.”
Wendy thanked Linette, and after the kids got dropped off, Linette said, “I wanted to say, as you probably know, tonight is the writers’ group. I know Godiva has been trying to recruit you to join us. I wish you would. We need more women our age.”
Once again Wendy was tempted. She squashed the memory of Alejo applauding, reminded herself that Alejo would not be there. Bill would. She said, “It sounds lovely, but…”
“But what? Godiva said you’re a dedicated writer.”
“I don’t know about dedicated,” Wendy said. “I had to give it up for years.”
“I totally know wherethat’scoming from.”
No, you don’t, unless your husband was like Bill, Wendy thought, but she didn’t say it. Besides, there was another issue. “Godiva did warn me that Bill put a parody of me in his book.”
Linette sighed. “Look, Wendy, it’s none of my business, and feel free to tell me to butt out. But ever since you started working at the bakery, I keep thinking about the fact that we’re both single women juggling child-raising and work, and still trying to find time to write. Godiva is correct about that Cindy character. Bill has been writing that same book over and over as long as I’ve been in the group. Sometimes he puts in that awful character, who’s so over the top no one could take her seriously. The rest of the time his book is all shoot-em-up and rah-rah manly men being manly as they do manly things, mostly with guns. The women characters are blow-up dolls, existing entirely to worship Bill’s extra-manly main character.”
Wendy nodded. The one time she’d read any of Bill’s book, she hadn’t seen herself in any of the characters. But she hadn’t seen any living being in any of them. They’d all been cartoony caricatures.
“Here’s my suggestion,” Linette said, “and then Iwillbutt out. I hate to think that Bill’s presence is what keeps you away. You are welcome to the group, and I suggest coming late. I am currently the group leader, so what I could do is make sure he goes first, then you wouldn’t have to hear his pages. He’ll also have the eyes of the entire group on him, so if he’s enough of a jerk to not want you participating, he will just have to act like a grownup and keep it to himself.”
Wendy had heard much the same from Godiva. But it had become habit to make herself as small and as quiet as possible around Bill. A lot of therapy these past several years, until she could no longer afford it, had helped her to begin to break that habit. Her success with Flossie the night before had been an eye opener.
Remembering Alejo’s smile and his enthusiastic clapping, and Ms. Nelson’s genuine praise, prompted her to say, “Oh…why not.”
Linette’s eyes widened with surprise and delight. “Really? You mean it?”
“Yes. I’m stuck on this one scene in my screenplay. Maybe reading it out loud, and getting feedback, might give me a kick in the inspiration. I’ll just sit where I don’t have to see Bill. As you say, he needs to be a grownup.”
“That’s what I love to hear,” Linette exclaimed.
“What time should I show up?”
“We start at seven. Ish—a lot of people come straight from work, and you know what that can be like. As Godiva probably told you. I’ll see to it that Bill goes first, so, say seven-thirty?”
“That’s great. It’ll give me a chance to get things tidy at Godiva’s house after dinner.”
“See you there. Looking forward to what you’ve got!”
All through the rest of the day, Wendy hugged that thought to herself.
She’d crashed back to earth when Sam ran in after his encounter with the squirrel woman. But then Alejo showed up right after, and Wendy was aware of tension draining right out of her. Somehow she knew before he spoke that he’d been watching out for Sam.
They all went inside, and Sam ran off to his room to get his things ready to go to his father’s early the following morning.
Wendy found herself thinking about Alejo as she dished up the chicken and rice. She loved to cook, and enjoyed seeing people eat what she made, but that didn’t explain the brimming anticipation when she knew she was going to see his handsome face across from her at the table.
Again, it was a fun meal. Everyone chatted about inconsequentials, and once again she marveled at how easily Alejo fit himself to the company he found himself in.
When dinner was over, Alejo said, “How about leaving the cleanup to me? I really ought to be contributing, and you’ve got somewhere to be this evening.”
