“Do you want me to leave you alone?”
I nodded because I didn’t want my child to watch me fall apart.
“Okay, uh. Mind if I go next door and play video games with the twins?”
Video games? At a time like this he wanted to play video games?
I looked into his eyes and saw a hurt, scared child who wanted nothing more than to escape.
Me, too, kid. Me, too.
“Go play some for me.” Goodness knew this mess wasn’t going anywhere.
He left the kitchen but then came back and kissed me on the cheek. “I love you, Mom.”
I could only nod, but I hoped he could feel how much I loved him, too.
I don’t know how long I sat at the breakfast room table, staring at the opposite wall. It felt both like a day and a half and a matter of seconds. In reality, it was less than twenty minutes before my doorbell rang.
I didn’t get up. I needed to look at the mostly uneaten slice of banana bread and think about what I’d done. Besides, I had been catted. I could not possibly get up and answer the door if a cat was sitting in my lap.
Someone knocked on the door, and Rachel said, “Come on, Vivian. We know you’re in there.”
I was on the verge of shouting, “There is no Vivian, only Zuul!” but Lucky jumped down from my lap, a sign from the universe that I did, indeed, need to open the door to my friends.
At least I’d quit crying.
No promises for the future.
I opened the door to Abi and Rachel and the sunset behind them.
“Can we come in?” asked Abi.
Her words brought me back to the present, and I nodded. Lucky tried to dart outside, but Rachel deftly scooped her up.
“We just wanted to check on you,” Abi said, her eyes traveling over me as if to scan for visible wounds before meeting my gaze.
“I’m ...”
I was what? Soon to be divorced? Unloved? Unwanted? Bruised like my bananas? So absent-minded that I’d used salt instead of sugar while baking?
Definitely, that last one.
Rachel stepped into the house, scanning each of the areas she could see. “Ishehere?”
An undercurrent of disdain emphasized the “he.” I appreciated knowing someone was on my side, whatever that side might be.
“He’s in our bedroom.”
Abi and Rachel exchanged a what-an-utter-bastard look.
“Maybe we should ...,” started Abi, pausing when she remembered that Dylan was at her house. No doubt he’d blabbed. Not his fault since I didn’t tell him not to.
“Go hang out in my wine cellar,” Rachel finished.
“Wine cellar sounds good,” Abi said.
“Wine sounds great,” I said, even though I could hear my mother saying, “Don’t drink your feelings.”
