Though I don’t know how much I can trust a ten-year-old about such matters, I ask her, “You really think so?”
“Oh my god!” Josephine shoves up from the bench and storms off, shouting, “Boys are so stupid!”
And the thing is, I can’t even argue with her. Instead of “barging into” Josephine’s room so we can immediately settle matters, I give her time to cool down, as the boys and I finish dinner. After giving them their baths, I finally let myself into Josephine’s room and sit on the edge of her bed.
At her desk, working on a new painting, she pauses mid-stroke of her brush when I say, “I’m going to win her back.”
“How?” Josephine asks.
“I don’t know yet, but I’ll figure it out.”
“Good.” She returns to her painting while Sebastian zooms around her room. None of them are getting to sleep anytime soon.
I give Josephine a few more minutes, then stand and gently tug on a strand of her hair. “How ‘bout I make some popcorn and we find something to watch on TV?”
Though Josephine still hardly looks at me, she puts away her paints and carefully cleans her brushes. The kids and I settle on the couch to watch one of the cartoon series westarted, but it’s not long until I finally lose the battle with my exhaustion. A human body can only take so much.
I suck back a shout when the front door clicks shut, the house much too quiet, the cushions beside me empty. “Sebastian? Sebastian!” I race out the front door, terrified I’m going to find Sebastian in the street, only to see Autumn and Brady spinning around, dressed in their pajamas.
“I tucked the kids into bed,” Autumn says, walking backward.
I fold over with a hand braced on my knee, the other resting over my pounding heart with relief. If I get one more surprise, I’ll end up in a bed beside Sherman. By the time I get my bearings, Autumn and Brady are already two houses down on their side of the street.
“Wait, Autumn!”
She pretends she doesn’t hear me.
Though I cross the lawn to the curb, I can’t leave the kids by themselves to chase after her. My first opportunity to get Autumn alone, and I’ve already squandered it by falling asleep. Another fuck up. Cursing to myself, I step back inside, poke my head into the kids’ bedrooms to check on them, then close myself in my room so I can crash in bed. Pulling out my phone and tapping on Autumn’s contact, which I’ve yet again renamed, I send her a text:
Please come back. We need to talk
I’m surprised when she texts me back.
ImYourAngel
We had a deal. I got my period. We’re over.
No, we’re not, angel
I’m no one’s angel
Yes, you are. You’re my angel
Wrong. We have no future in which we both get what we want. Let it go
No. Please come back so we can talk in person. I don’t want to do this over the phone
Even if I wanted to, I can’t. I have to stay here with Brady
Bring him with you. He can sleep on the couch
My parents wouldn’t like that…
Then come over for breakfast. Please
I fall asleep waiting for a reply that never comes.
Saturday night, after Autumn failed to show up for breakfast, I forcibly stop myself from pacing the living room when darkness falls, trying, for the kids’ sake, to pretend everything is okay. I’m doing a terrible job of it. Josephine hasn’t brought Autumn up again, but she’s restless, shooting me little looks that I can decipher well enough: I’m still fucking up. Even Sebastian keeps going to the living room window, grabbing the windowsill to pull himself up higher to peek over it.
