Ten Things We Did (And Probably Shouldn't Have) (15 page)

He paused. “That’s a lot of money. My parents would kill me.”

“So . . .” I held my breath.

“I can’t.”

He can’t. He can’t or he won’t? I knew he had money in his bank account. Bar mitzvah money. “Never mind.”

“Where’s the vet?”

“It’s Norwalk Emergency.”

“Do you know who ran it over?”

“Ran
her
over. Not it.”

“Her.”

“No. I don’t know who did it.” What kind of a jerk runs over a kitten and doesn’t even stop, anyway?

“Oh, April, don’t cry.”

“I have to go.” I hung up. “Well, that was a bust.” My face burnt from the humiliation. “What now?”

“Marissa?”

“She has zero money. Joanna?”

“Same.”

“Lucy?”

I shook my head. “Last resort. What about Dean?”

“Dean’s always broke. But you can ask Hudson.”

“Me?”

“Yes! Hudson gave her to you.”

“But that’s even worse. He gave me a present and I killed her.”

“You didn’t kill her. We’re going to save her. You should ask Hudson.” She looked up at me. “He has extra cash. Plus, he likes you.”

I flushed. “He does not.”

“Trust me. He does. He thinks you’re the hottest girl in Westport. Call him. He’s up. He’s always up.”

The hottest girl in Westport? Was that a joke? It wasn’t that I thought I was ugly. But there were many girls more attractive than I was. Like Pinky.

Wait. Stop. Donut.

“I don’t even know his number,” I said.

She reeled it off to me from her cell’s contact list. I dialed. What choice did I have?

He answered after two rings. “Hello,” he said, all calm as though he normally got calls at two in the morning. Which he probably did. Teacher calls. Sex calls. Drug calls even. Maybe he dealt to Ms. Franklin. No. Maybe?

“Hey, Hudson? Sorry to bother you—this is April. I was wondering if I could ask you for a favor.”

“What’s up?”

I couldn’t keep the tears out of my voice. “I . . . we’re at the vet. Donut had an accident. They won’t do the surgery unless we pay them up front and we’re short twenty-one hundred dollars. You seem to always have extra cash on you and I wondered if I could borrow some. I swear I’ll pay you back. I get money from my dad once a month, so I can give it to you in installments and—”

He didn’t hesitate. “Where are you? I’ll be there in ten.”

PARTY AT THE VET’S

Hudson met us in the waiting room in fifteen. Not that I was complaining. “This is the second time you came to my rescue,” I said, looking up at him. He thought I was the hottest girl in Westport? Insane. Especially coming from the guy who
could
be the hottest guy in Westport. Those cheekbones. Those blue eyes.

He blushed. “Don’t worry about it.” He handed a credit card over to the receptionist.

He motioned to Vi and Lucy, both asleep on the couch. “Dean is doing a Starbucks run. There’s a twenty-four-hour one down the street. He’s getting
Frappuccinos
for everyone unless I call and tell him otherwise.”

“That sounds great,” I gushed. “Thank you, guys. So much. And I’ll pay you back as soon as I can. Starting next week.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal,” Hudson said.

The receptionist ran the card through and then handed it back. “The doctor will start the procedure in about twenty minutes. You guys can go home or you can have a seat. It’ll probably be a few hours until we can see how she’s doing.”

“Thank you,” I said to her. “I think we’re going to stay.” I looked over at Hudson. “You guys don’t have to stay, though. Obviously.”

“We’ll keep you company. We have nothing else to do.”

“Psht,” I said, waving my hand. “Who needs sleep?” I was giddy with relief. Donut might not make it, but at least she had a chance. “Seriously, Hudson, it is a big deal. I swear I’ll pay you back.”

He nodded. “I trust you. If you think it’s worth it, then it’s worth it.”

I stared at him. Noah hadn’t trusted my judgment. My dad hadn’t either. “But why? You barely know me.”

He smiled. “There’s something about you. . . . You don’t screw around.”

I swallowed. Our eyes locked. What did that even mean? I wasn’t sure what to say to that, so instead I asked, “How do you happen to have so much extra money?”

He smiled and took a step closer to me. “Does it matter?”

I thought about it. “No. I’m just curious.”

“You think I’m a dealer?”

“No,” I said, embarrassed. “Maybe.”

“So you’d take my money even if it was drug money?”

“Oh, now you’re testing my ethics.”

He nodded. “Yup.”

“No, I wouldn’t take it.”

He shrugged. “Then I guess I can’t help you.”

“Seriously?”

He cracked another smile. “No. I can still help you.”

I motioned to the empty row of seats across from the sleeping Lucy and Vi and we sat down. “But, Hudson—where, or who, is the money from?”

He put his feet up on the table. “If I told you I’d have to kill you.”

I put my feet up beside him and kicked the side of his shoe. “Lines like that make people think you’re up to no good.”

He continued smiling. “I like a little mystery. What else do these people say?”

“I’ve heard a few career ideas tossed around.”

“Such as?”

“Gigolo,” I said. “Boy toy.” Then felt my cheeks burn up.

He laughed out loud. “Seriously? That’s awesome.”

“You’ve been spotted entering single women’s houses at odd hours.”

He laughed. “Like who?”

“Like Ms. Franklin’s.”

His eyes widened and he laughed even harder. “You think Ms. Franklin is hiring me for sex?”

“I didn’t say that. You asked what people are saying.”

“What do
you
think I do?”

“Model maybe?” I blushed again as soon as I said it. Now he knew I thought he was hot. He thought I was flirting with him. Was I flirting with him? It was easy to flirt with a guy who you knew thought you were pretty.

He laughed. “I have been told I have a nice ear.”

“And what would an ear-model model exactly?”

“Earmuffs? Earphones? Q-tips? My ear could get a lot of work.”

“Can I see this glamorous ear?”

He bent his head closer to me. “Not bad, huh?”

“Nice size. Not too big, not too small. Flat. Not too much lobe. Excellent ear. How’s the other one?”

“Not as good. It has a weird Spock-like bump on the top.” He turned to show me. “Feel.”

I giggled. What was I doing giggling at Norwalk Emergency? “You want me to feel your ear?”

“It sounds weird when you say it like
that
. Just touch the edge.”

I reached up and rubbed my finger against the top. His skin was cold and smooth and soft. His hair tickled the tips of my fingers. Warmth spread through my hand, and up my arm and down my spine.

“Hey,” Hudson said, looking toward the doorway.

I followed Hudson’s gaze and dropped my hand. Noah. “Hey!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

He shuffled from side to side. “I thought you might want company,” he said. “But it seems like you already have some.”

“I . . .” My heart raced. I jumped out of my seat. “Hudson lent me—lent us—the money.”

Noah eyed Hudson warily. “Wow, man, that was big of you.”

“No problem,” he said, returning Noah’s look.

Dean showed up then carrying a cardboard tray of coffees. “Who knew the most happening place to be at two
A.M
. on a Tuesday was the Norwalk Vet Emergency? Frappuccinos?”

“Actually, I think I’m going to go,” Hudson said, standing.

“You don’t have to,” I added quickly, touching his jacket sleeve. Then I dropped my hand. “I mean, go home if you want to. Obviously you don’t want to hang out
here
.”

He zipped up his coat. “Good luck.”

“But I just got here,” Dean said. “And I already drank half my Frap. I can’t go to sleep
now.
”

“I can drop you off later,” Noah said. “If your brother wants to take off.”

“Cool. Thanks, man.”

Hudson waved and headed to the door.

“Thank you,” I called after him.

He winked and let the door swing behind him.

Dean placed the tray down on the table. “I brought six. Would you like one, Marcy?” he asked the receptionist, reading her nameplate.

“Sure,” she said. “Don’t mind if I do.”

Vi stretched her arms over her head and opened one eye. “What’s going on here?”

“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Dean said, sitting on her lap. “I came to rescue you.”

“Your brother came to rescue us. What do you have to offer?”

“My body?”

Vi shook her head. “Not interested. Anything else?”

A hurt expression crossed Dean’s face, but he quickly washed it away. “Would you be interested in an icy, dessert-y coffee drink?” he asked with a flourish of his hand.

“Oh, that I’ll take.” She looked up at Noah. “Hey. You’re not Hudson.”

Did she want to torpedo my relationship as well as her own? “Noah came by,” I said. “To keep us company. Hudson just left.”

“But he gave you the money?”

Not helping, Vi. “Yup. All good.”

Noah looked at me quizzically. “So. Hudson gave you three thousand dollars.”

“Actually, I only needed twenty-one hundred. And he didn’t give it to me. It’s a loan.”

“Why?”

“Because I needed it?”

“But why would he lend it to you?”

I crossed my arms. “Because he trusts me to pay him back? Because he doesn’t want Donut to die?”

Vi smirked. “Noah, are you jealous that Hudson saved the day instead of you?”

Noah ignored her and turned to me. “Can you come outside with me for a sec?” He marched out the door. I followed. The air bit my skin. I didn’t remember where my coat was but it wasn’t on me.

“April,” he said, “a guy doesn’t lend a girl two thousand dollars. Unless he wants you.”

“We’re just friends,” I said.

“Then why were you touching him?”

“I was feeling his”—this was going to sound weird— “ear.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Is something going on with you two?”

“No! Of course not!” I laughed. “You don’t really think I’d do something like that, do you?” Did he think I was . . . my mother?

He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t. I just don’t like some other guy hitting on my girlfriend.”

I nodded. “I’ll pay him back. As soon as I can.”

“I bet this was all Vi’s idea,” he grumbled. “She’s such a bitch.”

“She is not! Noah!”

“She wants to hook you up with Hudson so you guys can be a little foursome.”

“You’re acting crazy.” What was his problem? “First you’re jealous of Hudson. Now you’re jealous of Vi?”

“I’m not jealous,” he said. “I don’t like when you get bossed around. And Vi is always bossing you around.”

“She is not.” What was happening? Things had been amazing—the best they’d been in months—and suddenly the ground we stood on was covered in cracks. One misstep and we’d fall through.

“She is. I know you think she’s God’s gift to—”

“Noah—not now, okay?” I couldn’t deal with this here. I just couldn’t.

He looked at me. He must have seen the pained expression on my face because he pulled me into his arms. “Sorry.”

“Can we go back in?”

He held open the door.

Inside, Dean was scowling. “If you don’t want me to be here, I’ll go home.”

“You don’t have to be here,” Vi said.

Dean sighed. “I know I don’t have to. I don’t
have
to do anything.”

They looked up at us and then back at each other.

“You know what?” Dean said. “I think I’m going to call a cab.”

“I can take you home,” Noah said. “And then I’ll come back.”

“You don’t have to come back,” I said quickly. Maybe it would be better if I was just here with Vi and still-sleeping Lucy.

“I know,” he said, kissing me on the forehead. “But I want to.”

I hesitated, then put my arms around him. “Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“You too,” I said.

After they took off, I turned to Vi. “What was that about?”

She waved her hand in the air. “He was being way too boyfriendy. Clingy. Not cool.”

“But he came to keep you company.” I drained the last of my coffee.

“Did I ask him to do that? No, I did not.”

Lucy groaned in her chair. “Did I hear something about coffee?”

I handed her a Frappuccino, then leaned the back of my head against the wall. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” Vi said. “It’s almost three.”

“Lucy, do your parents know where you are?” I asked.

“Nah. My mother took two sleeping pills before bed. She’s out cold.”

“What about your dad?”

She looked up at me. “He died.”

“Oh.” I lost my breath. “I didn’t know.”

“Cancer,” she said.

“That sucks,” Vi said.

My eyes stung, but I blinked them away. Here I was worrying about my cat, when she had lost her
father.
“When did it happen?”

“Four years ago.”

“I’m really sorry,” I told her.

“Yeah, well . . . shitty things happen.” She motioned to the waiting room. “Did you see the car that hit Donut?”

“No,” I said. I wanted to know more about her dad, but I didn’t want to push her if she didn’t want to talk about it.

I sat back up. “But we
heard
it. When we were in the hot tub. Vi, Do you remember?”

“Omigod, I do,” Vi said.

“And you know what was weird? The car that did it didn’t have its headlights on.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I remember that.”

“So why would someone be driving by our house with their headlights off?”

“Maybe the headlights were broken,” Lucy said.

“Or maybe they didn’t want us to see them,” Vi said.

“That’s crazy,” I said. “Who would do that?”

“I don’t know,” Vi said, narrowing her eyes. “But I’d give anything to find out.”

Maybe my dad was right. Maybe bad things did always happen after ten
P.M.

LIAR, LIAR, PANTS ON FIRE

WEEEooooWEEEooooWEEEoooo!

On Sunday, Noah and I were downstairs when my dad called. Vi was upstairs with Joanna. We stayed downstairs a lot, whenever Vi was home. These days Vi and Noah were like two dogs, marking their territory. Me.

“Hi, Dad,” I said, motioning for Noah to be quiet.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine,” I sighed.

“I’m sorry about Donut,” he said.

“Me too.”

“But you did the right thing. He would have suffered a lot.”

He thought Donut was dead. I should tell him the truth. And that Donut was female.

Or I could make him feel bad.

“Yes, well, the end was still hard.”

I was pretending that my cat was dead. What was wrong with me? When did I become a person who pretended to have a dead cat? A person who motioned to her boyfriend in bed beside her to be quiet when she spoke to her dad and lied about having a dead cat?

“I’m sorry, honey. Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?”

“No,” I said. Unless . . . I could use more cash. How could I say that without sounding crass? “Maybe I just need to get out. Go to the river. Walk down Main Street.”

“That’s a great idea. Go do it. Take Vi out for lunch. Buy yourself a present. On me. I’ll put some extra money in your account.”

Score! “Thanks, Dad.” I kept my voice sad. When did I become a person who used her fake–dead cat for cash?

“Did you just scam your dad out of more money?” Noah asked after I’d said good-bye.

“Maybe.”

“Good. Then you can pay Hudson back faster.”

Clearly, Hudson giving me money was still a sore spot. Although not sore enough for Noah to lend me the money. Instead of saying any of this to him, I put my hand under the back of his shirt and pulled him on top of me.

FOLLOW-UP EMAIL FROM MY DAD TO FAKE SUZANNE

From: Jake Berman

Date: Sun, 8 March, 8:10 p.m.

To: Suzanne Caldwell

Subject: The Cat

Suzanne,

I hope all is well. I wanted to check in with you to see how April is handling the situation with her cat. I didn’t even realize she’d gotten a cat. I assume you were okay with it. This seems to have really affected her—she sounded so upset when I last spoke to her. Can you keep an eye on her and let me know how she’s handling it? She went through a mild depression a couple years ago—after the divorce—and I want to make sure she keeps her spirits up. If you have any concerns, please call me ASAP. Thank you.

Best, Jake

Sent From BlackBerry

AFTER READING MY DAD’S EMAIL TO “SUZANNE”

Who felt like a jackass? I did, I did!

LOST IN SPACE

My dad took Matthew and me to Disney the summer after the separation, the summer right before I started high school. I was fourteen.

I had a panic attack on Spaceship Earth.

Something about the ride, and the trip through 40,000 years—the Egyptians, the Romans, the future, and I just kept thinking that we were all just small and meaningless and we pretend that our lives matter but really we’re irrelevant. Everything ends. Years. Generations. Civilizations. Everyone dies. I looked over the rim of the ride, and all I saw was a bottomless black hole. If my parents could break up, then nothing was forever. Nothing was unbreakable. Everything was doomed. Breathing felt like knives stabbing at my ribs.

Back in the sunlight, it got worse. There were people everywhere, strangers, and I was so insignificant, so pointless, it was all so pointless. I was lost, a deflated balloon sinking downward instead of up into the sky. At night in the hotel, I couldn’t stop crying. I tried to muffle my sobs into my pillow so my brother and Dad wouldn’t hear.

WELCOME TO THE CRAZY HOUSE

We were never going to find out who ran over Donut. How could we? It wasn’t like there were cameras on the street. No one was going to admit to it, or volunteer any information. “Guess what,” the criminal would say, “I was driving down your street and I accidentally ran over your cat! Sorry!”

It was the second week of March, after school on a Tuesday, and Vi and I were sprawled across our couch. Donut was on my lap. She had survived the surgery. After three days at the vet she had been back home for a week, and besides the pathetic-looking cast on her back leg, life was back to normal. The doctor warned that she’d probably always have a limp, but at least she was alive.

I scratched the back of her head and she let out a low meow.

“Who has nine lives?” I cooed at her. “Who does, who does?”

She licked my hand.

I was never letting her out of my sight again.

“Do you think it was Lucy?” Vi asked.

“Oh, come on. No. Of course not.” I thought about her dad.

“She showed up out front exactly when we did. What was she doing on the street in the middle of the night?”

“She said she heard us,” I said. “Not impossible. We were pretty loud.”

“But then she got to come with us to the vet.”

“What, you think she ran over our cat so she could have an adventure?” I asked. “That’s insane. Even for her.”

The doorbell rang and I jumped up to get it.

“Probably Lucy. She has a wire in the cactus and she heard us talking about her.”

But it was Marissa. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. She had a small, navy duffel bag beside her, the bag she brought to camp. Her name was written on it in black cursive.

“I . . . I . . .” she started sobbing.

“Come in,” I said, throwing my arms around her. “What happened?”

“Can I move in?”

AFTER MY MOM’S AFFAIR

“April, are you staying for dinner?” Dana, Marissa’s mother, had asked me.

It was Wednesday afternoon, seventh grade, the day after the phone-sex fiasco.

I nodded. I was sitting at the wooden kitchen table, pretending to do my homework. Marissa was pouring us glasses of juice. Her little sister was on the kitchen floor doing an art project. Her older sister was chatting on the phone, and her two younger brothers were wrestling on the front hall carpet.

“How are your parents?” Dana asked me.

I opened my mouth to speak, but sobbed instead.

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, sitting down beside me and enveloping me in a hug. “What’s wrong? Do you want me to call your mom?”

“No,” I said. “I’m just . . . she’s just . . .” I started crying again.

Marissa ran up behind me and hugged my back. “Is your mom sick?” Marissa asked.

Yes, I thought. But then I shook my head. “No, not that . . . it’s my mom and dad . . . they’re . . . things are bad.”

Dana looked surprised, but nodded, and pulled me back into her. She smelled like laundry sheets.

“Mom, can April stay here tonight?” Marissa asked.

Dana pulled away and rubbed my arm. “Do you want to?”

Yes. Yes. Please don’t make me go home. Please don’t make me talk to her. In the car that morning I hadn’t been able to look her in the eye without wanting to reach over and slap her.

“I’ll call your mom,” Dana said.

I panicked. “But you can’t say . . .”

“I won’t,” she said. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. You two just go relax.”

“Let’s go watch TV,” Marissa said, pulling me up, taking my hand, and not letting go.

MY TURN TO HOUSE MARISSA

After two minutes of incomprehensible crying, Marissa finally explained what went down. “I got on the Israel trip this summer!”

“I don’t understand,” I said. “That’s good news.”

“No—my parents won’t let me go!”

Part of me—the good part—felt terrible for her. Part of me—the bad part—felt happy for me.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “It’s a free trip.”

“I know! But then they discussed it and decided that it’s too dangerous! They’re convinced I’m going to get blown up by a terrorist.”

“That seems unlikely,” Vi said. “You’re probably just as likely to get blown up in Manhattan.”

“I doubt Vi’s right,” I said, hugging Marissa. “But your parents are being a bit overprotective.”

“I know! They’re ruining everything! Aaron’s going on the trip! All my friends are going on the trip!”

“Thanks,” I said.

“My summer friends. You know what I mean.” She pulled back and wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve. “My mom’s acting like a total nut job.”

“Do you think she’ll change her mind?” Vi asked.

“I told her I hated her and that she was ruining my life and that I would never speak to her again
unless
she changed her mind.”

“And what did she say?” I asked, a little shocked.

“That she wasn’t changing her mind. So I called my dad at work and he said that he wasn’t changing his mind either!”

“That sucks, Marissa,” I said. I looked at her duffel. “And you packed a bag because . . . ?”

“Because I can’t stay there. I’m not talking to either of them.”

“How did you even get here?” I asked.

“I walked.”

Was she crazy? “It’s a half-hour walk. And you had your duffel.”

“I was pissed. I needed some air.”

“You should have called me!” I said. “I would have picked you up.”

“I know but . . . I wasn’t thinking. I just packed and left.” She hoisted her bag over her arm. “It’s not heavy. It was mostly for show.”

“Do your parents know you’re here?” I wondered.

“Not exactly,” Marissa said.

“But they saw you leave,” Vi said.

“My sisters did. Mom will find out when she gets back from Target.”

This wasn’t going to go well. “So, basically, you ran away?”

“Not away,” Marissa said. “I ran here.”

“Marissa,” I said, shaking my head. “Your parents are going to freak out.”

“Good,” she said, eyes shining. “Let them! At least they’ll have a reason to.”

Marissa’s phone rang and she glanced at the caller ID. “It’s them. I’m not answering.”

“You have to tell them where you are,” I told her. “They’re going to think you got abducted or something.”

“Whatever.”

“They’re going to call the police!” I told her. Just what we needed. A massive police hunt, which would end here. With two minors living illegally in a house.

She considered. “I have
at least
a few hours before they call the police. Don’t you have to wait twenty-four hours?” She looked at Vi.

“Not sure,” Vi said. “But I agree. I doubt your parents will call the police
yet
. It’s only five in the afternoon. They’ll give it at least until eight or nine.”

I sighed. “So you’ll call them after dinner?”

“Maybe. But I’m still not going home unless they change their minds.”

“Stay as long as you want,” Vi said. “You can move into my mom’s room.”

“She won’t need it?”

“I don’t think she has a weekend off for a while.” Vi shrugged. I wondered if that was true.

Marissa’s cell rang again. “Them.”

“They’re going to call every two minutes until you answer,” I said.

She turned off her phone.

GREAT MOMS THINK ALIKE

Dana called me at seven. I was downstairs changing into sweatpants before dinner. Vi was making stir-fry. Marissa was keeping her company.

“April, is she there? She must be there.” Marissa’s mom sounded panicked.

I wanted Marissa to stay but I didn’t want Dana to worry for no reason. Forget Dr. Rosini. If I could adopt a new mom, it would be Dana. “She’s fine,” I said, my voice soft. “She’s here.”

“Oh, good,” she said. Her tone reminded me of me, when the vet told me Donut was going to be all right. “Can you put her on the phone?”

“She’s really upset,” I said. I sat down on the corner of the futon.

“I know. But I have to do what’s best for her even if it upsets her. I’m her mother. That’s my job.”

I wondered what my mom thought her job was.

“Did she take a bag with her?” Dana asked.

“Yeah.”

She sighed. “I’m coming to pick her up.”

“Wait. Maybe you should let her stay over for a night or two. She’ll come to her senses and calm down. She’ll miss home.”

“I don’t know. . . . If it’s okay with Vi’s mom . . .”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Is she home? Let me have a quick chat with her.”

“Oh . . . um . . . I’m not sure . . . let me find her and I’ll get her to call you right back.”

Back upstairs, I handed Vi my phone. “Suzanne, would you mind calling Marissa’s mom back and telling her that Marissa can stay here as long as she’d like?”

“Good idea!” Marissa said.

Vi took the phone, and walked into the other room. “Hi there,” she began in a low, mom-like voice. “This is Suzanne, Vi’s mom. . . . No, it’s no problem at all, it’s my pleasure. . . . I know, I know. . . . Best for them to blow off steam in a safe environment. . . . Why doesn’t she stay tonight and Vi will drive her to school in the morning . . . perfect. No, no, we have plenty for dinner. I was about to make a meat loaf.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Great. We’ll touch base tomorrow,” Vi said, before hanging up. “Done and done.”

“Meat loaf?” I asked.

Vi shrugged. “It sounded mom-like.”

“Woohoo!” I cheered. Now that I didn’t have to worry about an amber alert, I was free to enjoy the moment. Marissa was staying here! With me and Vi! The three of us living together. Marissa had always been there for me, and now it was my turn to be there for her. “What now?”

Marissa pointed to Hula. “I’m going to have to borrow a bathing suit.”

MISS TEEN WESTPORT CLAIMS HER PRIZE

Wednesday and Thursday with Marissa were awesome. We ate breakfast together, went to school together, came home together, Hulaed together. Stayed up late watching movies and eating Oreos out of the box. It was like a permanent sleepover. I even showed her how to do her wash when she ran out of underwear.

“Look at you, Suzy Homemaker!” she exclaimed as I measured out the Tide.

“I’m learning,” I told her.

“Should I come over?” Noah asked at school.

“It’s kind of a girls’ week,” I told him. I wasn’t sure why, but having Noah here with us would feel odd. I didn’t want Marissa to feel like she wasn’t wanted. “We’ll do something fun on the weekend.”