“Questions?” he asked.
“Nope,” she said, but didn’t move. Instead, she took the deepest, most cleansing breath possible and paused, letting her mind briefly sweep clean of all thought. “I’m ready,” she said, her voice radiating calm while inside she tried to remember if her older daughter had softball practice the next evening.
It was Jack’s turn to pause. There was the sound of paper shuffling followed by, “I’ll stick close to my phone while they’re filming. Questions, just have Rachel call.”
“Of course,” April replied, steeping her voice in what, she hoped like hell-o, sounded like “peace-be-with-you” and not “son of a bitch I’ve gotta figure out how to get my five-year-old to stop licking cracker crumbs off the ground.”
“Great,” he said. But it came across more like “fantastic.” Brilliant. Wonderful.
Breathe in Jack’s promises. Breathe out hesitation.
“Great,” April echoed, her voice as pure and gentle as a woman who was faking it for all she was worth.
They ended the call, and she gripped her cell in her hand. She held on to more than the phone. She latched on to the idea that there could be more to life than falling, and that made her heart-space soften and her breaths come more evenly.
April brushed a chunk of hair from her forehead where it flopped. This was her life, and she totally had this.
Chapter Two
“Our house rules:
1. Don’t say bad words.
2. Always wear clothes.
3. Don’t lick your friends.”
—Addie Yoder
April
April posted a quick update about the shopping excursion on Instagram, buckled her kids, reapplied her lipstick, grabbed Harmony’s black shoes—just in case she could persuade her to put them on later—gave everyone a solid once-over, and backed her Honda Odyssey minivan onto the street like the calm badass she was not.
Instead of the relaxing mantra music she preferred, Lola insisted on “Baby Shark” for the bajillionth time.Do-do-do-doplayed through the van as she willed any residual stress to slide away on the drive. “Baby Shark” was ineffective for relaxation, and when she parked at Earth Foods, her chakras were still out of whack.
“Hey.” Rachel met her at the grocery store entrance. “We. Are. Ready. For. You!” She punctuated each word like it was its own sentence.
“Great.” With Lola on her hip and Harmony’s shoes dangling from her fingertips, April gripped Rohan’s hand while Harmony skipped along beside them in her bare feet.
Harmony had ditched the shoes halfway to the store and stubbornly refused to put them back on. They hurt her feet now. She also refused the black shoes April had brought, too.
“Do you need to go potty?” April asked, adjusting Lola on her hip. “Once we get started, we can’t stop for the bathroom.”
“No potty.” Lola popped her thumb in her mouth.
April did the quick math in her head—the metrics of when Lola had last gone to the bathroom, how much she’d had to drink since, and the time the shopping trip would take.
All of it aligned with Lola’s assertion that she didn’t need to go. And yes, they were good.
“The dog will be here in a bit,” Rachel said, directing April to the coffee aisle where they’d begin filming. “We’re going to do that part first.”
April grunted, adjusting the toddler, as a trickle of sweat traced the line of her bra along her spine. The blue dress with little yellow flowers did nothing to absorb the moisture.
That, right there, was why she usually wore yoga pants and a stretchy moisture-wicking top. It helped that shewasa yoga instructor, so the yoga pants weren’t quite so cliché. Though, let’s be honest, even if she were a cliché, she’d still go for yoga pants. Motherhood required breathable fabric. Fact of life. Fact of motherhood.
“Let’s maybe not have the kids there for that?” April suggested.
“But I like dogs.” Harmony frowned, pressed her little knuckles into her hips like a mini-diva in the making.
