Ryan’s smiles were very effective, as a rule. He was very charismatic. Very attractive, to most people. Even to Shiloh sometimes. (Even after everything.)
Ryan looked like the smart-alecky sidekick on a teen sitcom. Still, at thirty-six. He was short, with dark hair and crinkly blue eyes and a smile that tugged up more on one side than the other. (This was possibly a learned behavior.) It was like Paul Rudd, Adam Scott, Jason Bateman and John Cusack had all pooled their distinguishing characteristics into one Midwestern high school drama teacher.
Shiloh worked very hard not to despise Ryan at a cellular level; her kids had too many of his actual cells.
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think that’s a great idea.”
Ryan tried out a different smile, a softer one. “It’s just pancakes, Shy.”
“I want pancakes!” Junie said.
“I think Dad has to get to work,” Shiloh said firmly. “He has rehearsal.”
“Noooo,” Junie whined.
“Noooo,” Gus echoed. Gus was almost three. Most of what he said so far was just an echo of Junie.
“Yep!” Ryan finally relented, swooping Gus up into his arms for a hug. “Mommy’s making pancakes. She makes the best pancakes anyway.Mmmwah!” He gave Gus a big kiss and then set him down, reaching for Junie. He had to pull her away from Shiloh’s legs. “Mwah, mwah!You guys be good for Mommy. I’ll see you Tuesday. I love you.”
Gus had started to cry. He’d been doing that lately whenever one of them said goodbye. You’d think Gus would be used to thisarrangement—Shiloh and Ryan had separated when he was just a few months old.
But Gus seemed newly rattled by the instability. He cried over everything. He’d bitten someone at daycare. And after six weeks of potty-training, he was less potty-trained than ever. Evenmentioningthe potty chair sent him into tears.
Shiloh went to pick him up. It was an excuse not to walk Ryan out. “Come on, Gus-Gus. Let’s make pancakes.”
“I’ll text you about next week, Shiloh. See ya, Gloria!”
“Goodbye, Ryan!” Her mom waved.
As soon as Ryan was out the door, her mom followed Shiloh into the kitchen. “Why does he come inside every time? It’s like he needs to piss all over the place, so it smells like him.”
“Mom. You know the rules. Not in front of the kids.”
Her mom took Gus from Shiloh’s arms. “Gus-Gus isn’t a kid. He’s my baby.”
“Not a baby,” he pouted. Gus was big for his age, too. But he was still round like a baby, with chubby arms and legs, and a little dimple in his chin like Spanky fromOur Gang. He had fine dark hair and round brown eyes. He lookedofShiloh and Ryan, but not reallylikeeither of them.
Shiloh got out the eggs and the milk. “Do you want pancakes, Gus?”
“No! WantHercules!”
“You have to ask in a nice voice,” she said. “You don’t yell at Mommy.”
“Hercuuuuleees,” he said, like he was begging for it on his deathbed.
“Junie!” Shiloh called out to the living room. “You guys can watch a DVD.”
Shiloh’s mom set Gus on the floor, so he could toddle away despondently.
Shiloh had had big ideas about not letting the television raise her children. But then she’d actually had children. And then she’d gotten divorced. And now every day felt like something to get through alive. Something to try and stay awake for.
At least her kids were being raised by actual children’s programming, and notMatch GameandDays of Our Lives,like Shiloh had been.
“I was hoping you still had Cary squirreled away up there,” her mom said.
“Uh, no.” Shiloh started on the pancake batter. “He left right after I talked to you.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, honey.”
