Silva hummed. “That’s really good to know. Maybe she can do one or two days a week, just for socialization. She told me all about Kora, so I know she’d like that. Aelin?” she called out. “Will you please go knock on Dynah’s door?” The little girl nodded, darting off to the yard diagonal from theirs, rapping her little knuckles on the sliding glass door beyond the terrace.
When Dynah’s cloud of auburn curls appeared, Lurielle laughed. “Oh wow, she’srightthere. That’s so great. Look at us! This is just like old times.”
Silva nodded, smiling. “We should have invited Ris.”
She covered Silva’s hand with her own as Dynah crossed the yard, waving. “Promise me you’re going to come to the break room and hang out with us. You don’t need to sit in the car and cry alone. You can come to the break room and cry with me, and we can make everyone uncomfortable together.”
Silva laughed as Dynah approached the table, pulling out a chair. “Lurielle! Who needs work? This is great. Please tell me Tate made lunch.”
Lurielle laughed as Silva nodded. “Oh, he did. Left me with a page of instructions on how I’m supposed to serve it.”
Itwasnearly like old times, she thought, watching Kora do her kaiju stomp across the yard, pterodactyl screeching as Silva’s little girl ran in circles around her, laughing. Kael was on the swings, testing how far the chain would take him.
“Weshouldhave called Ris. We’ll have to remember next time. She can bring the dog, and then all our kids can play together.”
When she pulled into her own driveway later that afternoon, with both Kael and Kora sound asleep in their car seats, thoroughly wiped out from the afternoon of play, Lurielle realized there hadn’t been a single mention of classes, camps, workshops, or anything that even vaguely resembled enrichment.
It had been nice. She knew how to play the game, was more competitive than she would have liked, and didn’t ever want to find herself on the outside of the mother’s group circle . . . but it was nice not needing to exist in that place all the time.
She was glad Silva was home. Glad to have their friendship restored. And was really fucking glad they were able to enjoy theafternoon, letting their kids be kids, without anyone wondering if it aligned with their values.
***
She could never have guessed a stack of blocks would wind up being a line in the sand.
Kora had made her first enemy, it seemed, for serene Yanna’s serene toddler was anything but, if her daughter were in the vicinity. At playgroup the following week, Lurielle watched as Kora pushed a little plastic truck along the edge of a table, making beeping sounds periodically.
Her eyes constantly moved back and forth between Kora and Kael, ensuring they were sharing and waiting their turn, never for a moment feeling that she could simply look down at her phone, as so many of the other mothers present did. She wished she could. Lurielle didn’t know how Tate seemed to be able to text while never taking his eyes off his daughter, but his phone was in his hand, his thumb moving in a blur, his eyes locked across the room.
So focused was she on her own two that Lurielle never noticed Yanna’s dark-haired little boy until he was right there, yanking the truck from Kora’s hands. Her mouth dropped open in shock, mirroring the expression on her tiny daughter’s face.
Kora yanked the truck back. The little selkie pushed.
Lurielle heard her own quick intake of breath as though it had come from someone else, watching her little wildflower stumble, more from the shock and audacity than a disruption in her balance.Wait. Don’t go running to her. See what she does first. Just behind her, Lurielle heard Tate tsking, watching as well. She watched Kora regain her balance, her dark eyes narrowed, her little mind recalibrating.
She snatched the truck back. “Mine turn!” When the selkie lunged to take the truck again, Kora held out her hand, little green palm in his face. “Wait turn!”
Tate nearly choked on his laughter, hiding it behind his palm as Lurielle turned with a grim smile of her own. “Fiercelittle mite.”
She nodded in satisfaction, sitting back in her chair, crossing her arms, watching the little selkie toddle back to his perfect mother, already pointing. She saw Yanna’s head raise, frowning.
“They have to be.”
After that day, Lurielle paid attention.
Wherever Kora was, the little boy would be there, crowding her, trying to take whatever toy she was holding, pushing her out of the way on the slide. Once, he had shoved Kora out of line for snack, incurring the wrath of Tate’s tiny daughter, who’d stood with her hands on her hips, telling him he wasn’t being very kind.
The fact that Tate’s daughter spoke in complete sentences and enunciated as well as an adult drove the point home. Yanna had flushed, gathering her little one up, vaguely insinuating that it wasn’t polite to call names.
“I don’t believe stating the obvious is name-calling.” Tate’s voice was light, but pointed, taking Aelin by the hand.
Yanna had turned away, laughing tightly, her silvery dark eyes flashing. “They’re just figuring it out. I’m so glad they have this space to do so.”
The following week, Lurielle considered skipping playgroup altogether. She waffled with indecision, hemming and hawing until they reached the time where making a decision was no longer negotiable, packing the kids up in the car with a sigh.
Why would you stay home? Why would you let some other little punk bully her away from going to play with her friend?Lurielle cringed at herself. She knew it was inappropriate tothink of another toddler in such a way, another baby, and that’s all they were.It’s not his fault that his mother is more worried about signing him up for meditative stretching than teaching him how to share.
The air in the colorful little room felt as tight as piano wire as they entered, only five minutes late.You’re being ridiculous. The air is tight with the smell of cheddar frogs and diapers, be serious.
