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“Um, I’m at the house. What’s going on?”
He sighs. “Sarah, it’s after two. Martin’s still at school.” His voice is strained and agitated.
“Oh, my God,” I breathe. I start looking for my shoes. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, honey. I fell asleep.”
“Fell asleep? You’re shitting me, right?”
Dread coils in the pit of my stomach. His tone was so menacing and cold. I glance at the wall clock hanging on the wall next to the front door. Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s 2:39 p.m. How did I forget to pick up Martin? It completely slipped my mind.
“His teacher’s called me five times already,” he says, “and I can’t leave the office because, as you would remember, I told you we have an extremely important business meeting today.” God, he sounds so angry.
“Jack, I’m so sorry. I’m on my way,” I reassure him, grabbing my keys off the hook. I rush back to the bedroom and scoop up Ava as I balance the phone on my shoulder. “I’ll be there in a second.”
The guilt feels like it’s eating away at my heart like a termite in a woodpile.Jesus, why did I sleep for so long??
I shake these thoughts out of my head as I step on the pedal, keeping an eye out for the speed to make sure I’m not accelerating too much while my other eye watches Ava, safely strapped into her car seat.
I see Martin sitting on the bench in front of the school. He’s not by himself, thankfully. The teacher is with him. I stop in front of them and Martin hops up, waving to his teacher. “Hi, Mommy!”
He’s smiling. It’s no big deal to him.
We pull off and I look at Martin in his car seat in my rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, kiddo,” I say. “Mommy just lost track of time.”
“It’s okay,” he says. He’s swinging his legs a little in the seat.
I still feel terrible. He shouldn’t have had to wait for me. “Hey,” I say, “you want to get some ice cream before dinner?”
His face lights up and he nods his head feverishly.
“Okay,” I say and detour toward the nearest ice cream parlor.
After ice cream, Martin goes to his room to do his homework, leaving me to start dinner. I’m feeling frazzled and harried like the day just never stopped since I woke up that morning.
That evening, we had dinner without Jack because it was one of his late nights. I’m left with the task of cleaning up the kitchen, helping Martin with his homework, and finally, putting both of them to bed. I know that Jack is working long hours for a reason…but I can’t help feeling a little resentful.
So…after everyone’s in bed, I sit on the couch and wait for Jack. There’s a fight coming tonight. He sounded like he wanted to lay into me earlier on the phone and even though it was just a mistake – the kind of mistake anyone could make – I know he’s going to find a way to make me feel like the worst person on earth for it.
But the longer I sit here, the more pissed I get. For all his platitudes about being afraid of being alone, he sure has no problem doing that to me…
I wait for two hours. I’m watching the clock as the minutes go by and my anger is getting icier with every moment. If it’s a fight he’s looking for, he’s about to find it.
He walks in finally and freezes upon seeing me on the couch. As he closes the door, I can see the disappointment on his face – his thinned lips and furrowed brow say it all. He hangs up his jacket and sets down his briefcase, then turns to me and says, “You pick up Martin.”
“Nope,” I say and he glares at me. “I just left him there at the school for the last nine hours. If you hurry, you might be able to get him before they lock him in.”
He rolls his eyes. “This isn’t a laughing matter.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I say to him.
“Hey,” he barks, his voice rising in volume. “Don’t give me that shit. That is my son—”
“He’smyson, too,” I snark right back at him. “Or did you not mean it all those times you said it to me?”
He shook his head. “Oh, so this is some kind of pissing war over Martin, now?”
“I made a mistake,” I say, standing up and talking over him. My fists are clenched at my sides and I can feel the rage that’s been brewing for the last two hours start to bubble up to the surface. “People make mistakes, Jack. Instead of blaming me for it, maybe you could stop for a second and try to understand what happened.”
“What’s there to understand? You forgot about him—”
