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Pure chaos greets me at home.PJ Masksplays on the TV, but the kids aren’t watching. They’re busy jumping back and forth between my two couches, occasionally landing on the coffee table. A fort’s set up with blankets and pillows, and Iz’s youngest cousin crawls through while the older kids create mayhem outside.
My excitement for the weekend turns to horror as I survey my living room. Iz heads me off in the kitchen with a big hug and whispers, “It’s fine. They’re having a blast, and I’ll help them clean up before we leave.” My anxiety hitches with the ambush of sensory overload. “Trust me. It’ll be okay,” she assures me.
I nod. “I just need a minute. It’s loud in there.”
She motions for me to go upstairs and as I ascend, I hear Izabeth tell the kids it’s time for a new game: the floor is lava, and the first one who speaks automatically falls in. I don’t deserve Iz, but I’ll never stop trying to show her how much she means to me.
I take my time changing out of my work clothes and into something comfortable. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I give myself a minute to just breathe. ADHD makes an onslaught of visual and audio stimuli completely overwhelming—it’s like my brain seizes up and forgets what it’s supposed to be doing. Rainey made it through the school day and I survived my first day back in the office, I remind myself. A little win that I’ll stock away for later when I need a reminder that I’m doing okay.
With my anxiety temporarily calmed, I find my living room mostly pulled back together, and Izabeth has a plate of hot food waiting with my name on it. Knowing I’d be stressed, she ordered takeout. She instructed me to sit and enjoy every bite while she helped her cousins and Rainey finish cleaning up—everyone else had already eaten.
“How were things after school today, Rae?”
“Huh?” She’s in the middle of brushing her hair before bed. I take the brush and ask if she wants to sleep with her hair down or in a bun.
“Bun.”
Strands of her hair catch in my fingers as I gently collect her curls onto the top of her head.
“Did you feel okay with Izabethkidsittingafter school?”
“Yeah, her cousins are actually fun—even if they’re boys.” She makes anickface and sticks out her tongue, giving us both a case of the giggles.
I playfully swat at her bottom before taking her shoulders and turning her around to face me. “But, you felt comfortable?”
“Yeah. It was fine.”
“Promise?” I ask, holding up a pinky.
“Promise,” she assures me, hooking her pinky around mine.
With Rainey bathed and tucked in for a long night of rest, I venture to my bathroom for a piping hot soak. The kids were too wired for me to share much about the upcoming home visit with Iz, but I made her promise to call when she got home. When my phone rings, I turn off the jets and spend the next half hour catching up with my best friend, telling her all about the good news.
I brought a glass of wine with me to the tub and convinced Iz to pour a glass for herself. We sip our wine and gossip just like we had in college, except now we’re in separate homes and exhausted from long workdays. My week was stressful with missed project deadlines and unexpected meetings keeping me late at the office, but Iz held the fort down in my stead and was, as Rainey explained to her, the kidsitting G.O.A.T.
Iz’ responses become shorter and delayed, and I tell her goodnight at the realization she’s falling asleep on the phone with me. I hang out in my oversized tub for a while longer, flipping through my social media apps and ‘liking’ the posts from Izabeth and my coworkers before checking my email one last time before bed. I find one I’ve never read from a “swipe-right” dating app I tried last year.
Using that app was a horrendous experience I swore I wouldn’t repeat, but curiosity wins, and I open the app for shits and giggles just minutes later. I laugh at some messages sitting in the app’s DM inbox from months ago. I realized the dating app experience wasn’t for me when I showed up for a first date with a man I chatted with for several weeks. He looked just like his photo—very sexy, very mysterious—and the attraction was instant until I heard the way he spoke to the server. I thanked him for meeting me and threw a fifty on the table before walking out. You can’t get a genuine sense of who a person is from photos and texts alone, and I’m tired of wasting my time trying to do so. Looking through the messages is quick entertainment, but I have no regrets confirming I’m ready to uninstall the app.
I’ve stereotyped single women approaching their thirties as leading a sad, lonely existence, but I’m on my way to becoming one of them. I’ve not dated in over six months, and with Rainey here, I don’t plan to pick it back up soon. Making sure she’s happy, doing well in school, and making lots of friends comes first.
Friends. Shit. I forgot all about Logan’s text from Tuesday afternoon.
Noah: Omg. I just realized I never replied. It‘s been a crazy week. I know it‘s late notice, but we‘re available this weekend if you‘d still like to get together.
I’m mid-teeth brushing when his response comes through.
Logan: No worries. I figured you’d be slammed this week. This weekend is good for us, too. Tomorrow at my place?
He’d moved! Our conversation at the cafe comes back to me, and I wonder how Maggie handled everything.
Noah: Your place is fine as long as you‘ve not taken up a new career as a serial killer. ;-)
Logan: Nope. You’re in luck. I’m still career-less and you’re safe.
Noah: Well, that’s a relief. By the way, how did Maggie do with the move? Everything go okay?
Logan: She freaked out and threatened she wasn’t moving . . . Wanted to stay at our family’s farm. I won her over. *praise hands emoji*
