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I sighed. “Except that Charlie is…”
“What?”
“She’s…I don’t know. She’s super excited of course, she’s bursting at the seams, but she’s also very anxious. She’s started to bite her fingernails again, which she hasn’t done in ages. She desperately wants everything to be perfect and you know what she asked me the other night?”
“What?”
“She said…” I could still see her vividly, tucked in her bed, her comforter all the way up to her chin. “She said, do you think Mommy will still like me?”
“Oh, Laura.”
“Anyway, it’s fine, it’s only for three weeks.”
Katie snorted. “They’re going to be the longest three weeks of your miserable life, babe.”
“Yes, thank you. I knew that already, but thank you. You’ve made me feel so much better.” And she laughed.
In the end, I bought the white sheets with yet more money I can’t really spare and I picked up Charlie from school and we went shopping for more treats to decorate the spare room. We bought aJurassic Parkthemed banner kit (Charlie’s idea, which I supported fully because I liked the juxtaposition of Bronwyn and dinosaurs) that readsWelcome Mommy!Charlie wantedWelcome Home Mommy!but I saidWelcome Mommyis better. We made flowers out of tissue paper and hung pretty fairy LED string lights. Then Charlie made a pretty tableau with her felt board of a colorful garden, and we put it up on the wall, and in the end, we stood back, admired our work, and it was perfect.
“Hello, Laura!”
I’ve spun my head around and I’m staring at Erin who is standing next to me, leaning against the same railing, waiting for her daughter Brielle who is in the same class as Charlie’s. I’m so in my head I don’t even remember her showing up, and yet there she is, staring at her gloved hands, at her watch.
“Can you believe I’m on time for once?” She laughs, then shakes her head. “I’m always late. We readAlice in Wonderlandthe other night, and Brielle said I was just like the rabbit.” She makes a face and I laugh.
“I heard Bronwyn is in town. Lucky you! Charlie told Brielle and Brielle told me. I’d love to see her again. Is she here for long?”
I shake my head quickly, confused. “You know her?”
“Yes! Of course! Mothers’ group. You know what it’s like around here, we all know each other. She used to call it the circle of love.” She laughs. “But after she left, it wasn’t the same. She’s so lovely, isn’t she? Is she staying long? I could organize cocktails at our house, it would be very nice to catch up.”
The bell has rung and the children are spilling out, and there’s Charlie, half skipping, half running, and at the same time she’s saying goodbye to her friends so there’s some hugging and shouting going on, and it’s all a bit chaotic and I smile. She runs to us with Brielle, her school bag banging against the back of her legs, and comes to a stop in front of me like a gymnast at the end of a routine, with her face turned up, her hair flying out in all directions from under her green beanie and her cheeks flushed—from excitement?—and I want to pick her up and kiss those pink cheeks, and for some strange reason I find myself getting unexpectedly teary.
I put my hand on her head. “Let’s take you home.” And she hugs me, the way she does, with her arms wrapped around my waist and looks up at me. “Is Mommy at home?”
“Yes, Mommy’s at home.”
“Can we get flowers for Mommy?”
I groan, internally. “Good idea.”
Charlie jumps and squeals and starts skipping ahead, her backpack bouncing around.
“Well, someone’s excited!” Erin remarks. Then to me she says, “Let me know about drinks, whatever day works for Bronwyn.” She takes Brielle by the hand. “Bye!”
“Bye!” I say, half raising my hand.
Because that’s the other thing about Bronwyn. Everybody loves Bronwyn.
Except me.
NINE
Although I did too, once, a long time ago. Bronwyn and I were in school together from the age of twelve. Then my mother died when I was fourteen years old. My friend Katie says that’s why I’m so fiercely protective of Charlie. I am making up for what I perceive as my own mother’s abandonment. And she should know, she’s a psychologist, although as I like to point out to her, you could just say that the reason I am so fiercely protective of Charlie is because I know what it’s like not to have a mother. Sometimes, the right explanation is the one staring you in the face.
Bronwyn was already very pretty in those days, her dark hair in two braids that she flicked over her shoulders. Nobody else could sport that look and not look lame, but she looked cool and sexy, in a Lolita kind of way, and I say this in retrospect because at twelve years of age I had no concept of sexy, let alone Lolita.
I loved her, for a while, the way girls do at that age, until I didn’t. We had our own circle of love back then and for some reason only Bronwyn got to decide who was in, and who was out.
