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CHAPTER ONE
Tilly shouted for the thirdtime. “The bus will be here in fifteen minutes. Move it!”
She finished packing her kids’ lunches, being sure to give Justin an extra juice and to hold the jam on Ashley’s sandwich because, all of a sudden, she didn’t like jam. Tilly grinned to herself. The trials and tribulations of a fifteen and fourteen-year-old. The phone pulled her attention; grabbing it and putting it under her ear, she yanked open the pantry door to put the peanut butter away, breathlessly greeting, “Hello.”
“Mrs. Forester?”
“Yes.”
“Just confirming your appointment at eleven.”
It took Tilly a second: right, the exterminator. She wasn’t big on killing insects, but ants in her kitchen was where she drew the line. “Yes, eleven.”
“See you then.”
She almost dropped the phone, but got it back in the cradle before she shouted again. “Let’s move—” Her shout was cut short when her son walked into the kitchen. His brown hair was too long, but he was going through a phase. Battling with him to get his hair out of his eyes was too exhausting. He’d move past the fad soon enough. He looked so much like her husband. She couldn’t stop the smile but refrained from commenting because she’d only get,Come on, Mom. Jeez.
She handed him his lunch. “Did you see your sister?”
“I’m here.” Ashley announced, running into the kitchen. Her hair was lighter than her brother’s: her eyes not hazel, like the rest of the family, but green. “Couldn’t get my hair right,” she offered, turning Tilly’s focus on the messy knot her daughter had pulled her hair up into.
“I like your hair like that,” Tilly said.
Ashley grabbed her lunch, flashing her mom a smile. “Thanks, Mom. Oh, don’t forget. I’m staying after school today for choir. I’ll need you to get me at five.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I got soccer,” Justin said, ripping the wrapper off his granola bar and eating half in one bite.
“I remember. Drop off at four fifteen pm.”
“School pics are next week.” Ashley reminded her. Tilly looked again at her son’s hair and wondered what the chances were of getting it cut before the pictures. Though, if this was his look for the tenth grade, having it documented for all posterity wasn’t a bad idea. It was what school pictures were all about after all.
They all heard the bus at the same time. Ashley ran over, kissed Tilly on the cheek, and then darted for the door. Justin, who had stopped giving her kisses in the eighth grade, gave her a “Later,” as he walked out of the kitchen.
“Later,” she called after him, reaching the door in time to see her kids climbing onto the bus. She waved to the bus driver, even got a wave from Ashley, before she closed the door, walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. Before she took her first sip, the phone rang again. Glancing over, it was Luke. Answering, she said, “Hi, honey.”
“I’m going to be late. One of the grids is down.” Tilly leaned up against the counter and took that first sip. Luke supervised the local power company. It was gradual, so gradual that Tilly couldn’t say when it switched from Luke working to have a life, to work becoming his life. In the beginning, he put in long hours to get them in a position where they were financially comfortable. Then Justin was born and Luke worked even longer hours because now they were a family. Somewhere along the way, he stopped working toward something and just found fulfillment in working. Their weekend home improvement projects, family outings, even dinners together just fell by the wayside. She made excuses, first to herself, then to her kids...attempting to make up for the absence of their father by being both for her kids.
“I can keep your dinner warm,” she offered.
“It’s all right. I’ll get something here. Did the kids get off to school?” He asked.
“Yes.”
“Justin needs a haircut.”
“He does, but I’m picking my battles.”
“It’s a haircut.” There was the slightest bit of censure in his words. Irritation moved through Tilly. She didn’t mind picking up the slack, dealt with having a husband who was never around, but when they did talk and he criticized, that pissed her off. She snapped, “He’s your son too. You want his hair cut, you know where the barber is.”
Silence followed for a second before she heard his exhale. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
He did, but at least he knew he was being a dick. “It’s all right.”
“What are you doing today?”
Tilly put her mug down and took a deep breath. She was pretty sure her husband thought she spent her days talking on the phone and watching daytime television. So consumed with his work, it skipped his noticed that the bills were paid, the kids got where they needed to be, things that broke were fixed, the yard was always mowed, gardens weeded, hot meals on the tables, and clean laundry in the closets. She may not earn a salary, but she worked her ass off. Reminding her husband of that was just not something she did anymore.
