My mother’s eyes widen. “Where?”
“Brookline Academy, to teach math. I’d only work mornings, while Liam’s in preschool.”
Helen Carlton’s friend, Carole Chan, called a few days ago to ask me to interview. Helen must have talked me up, because Carole didn’t seem put off by my lack of a teaching degree.
“I didn’t know you were looking for a job,” Mom says, with a hint of disapproval in her tone. “I thought you planned to stay home until Liam’s in kindergarten, at least.”
“Like I said, it would just be while he’s in preschool. And I probably won’t get the job anyway.”
My mother’s brow furrows. “But what’ll you do if one of the kids is sick?”
“Take a sick day from work, I guess.” Since my mom stayed home while I was growing up, I don’t think she realizes how many women juggle this issue all the time.
She nods thoughtfully. “I’ll help if I can, of course.”
“Thanks, Mom. I appreciate it.”
“Do you need money, Melissa? I thought Troy was paying you enough support?”
“He is. I’d just like to earn some money myself, so I’m not relying on Troy for everything.” It comes out more defensively than I intended.
“I see.” She doesn’t really see, but she can tell I’m upset, and she knows enough not to push the issue. “I should go, I need to buy groceries and finish unpacking. Your dad and I would love to see the kids, though. Do you want to bring them over for dinner tonight?”
“That sounds great.”
“Are there limits to what Claire can eat? Since the surgery?”
“No, she’s on a pretty normal diet now.”
I kiss my mother goodbye, but her voice stays in my head all afternoon. When Liam fusses after preschool, I wonder if the move to Somerset was the wrong thing for him. Maybe a better mother would have forgiven her husband’s infidelity, and stayed in her marriage for the sake of her kids.
While Liam naps, I search for something to wear to my job interview tomorrow. As I feared, most of my nicer clothes are uncomfortably tight, and I hear my mother again, remarking on the calories in a lemon shortbread cookie. She’s probably never found herself in a situation where none of her clothes fit.
I eventually find a forgiving navy skirt and red wrapsweater to wear tomorrow. But it’s clear that if I get the job, I’ll need to either buy new clothes or lose ten pounds.
And Claire’s follow-up appointment with Luke is in a week, says the devilish voice in the back of my head.If I really make an effort, maybe I can drop a few pounds by then.
No. This has nothing to do with Luke, and I’m sure he won’t even notice how I look.
I take the kids to dinner at my parents’ (lemon chicken with broccoli and brown rice, a great way to kickstart a diet), then drive home and go through the bedtime routine. As I tuck Liam into bed, he gives me a sloppy kiss.
“You’re my best Mommy,” he says. He tells me this every night, and even though I’m his only Mommy, it warms my heart.
But later that evening when the kids are asleep, my mind drifts back to this morning’s conversation with my mother. Maybe moving to Somerset was the wrong thing for my kids. Maybe my mother was right, and Claire’s appendicitis was stress-induced.
I google ‘stress and appendicitis’ and skim a few websites. Most say there’s no definite link, but a few say stress could be a risk factor.
I pull up my text thread with Luke, and before I can talk myself out of it, I tap out a text.
Me: Can stress cause appendicitis?
ELEVEN
LUKE
“You should go easy on the sit-ups, man,” Austin teases when he finds me in the gym in our condo building. “I heard your abs of steel gave some kid a nosebleed.”
A week has passed since the nosebleed incident, and I was starting to hope the story hadn’t spread. Clearly, I was overly optimistic.
