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“I want her to come back.”
I offer Katie’s teacher a tight smile and my hundredth apology. Then I buckle Katie into her car seat and head to the ferry landing.
She’s asleep by the time we get there. She sleeps on the boat ride home too, only waking up when we walk through the door at home.
“Daddy, I’m hungry. Can I have a special snack?”
“Of course. Graham crackers and milk?”
She smiles. “Yes.”
Only I discover we’re out of both graham crackers and milk. The pantry is empty. So is the fridge.
There’s not a fucking crumb of food in the house. Did I forget to grocery shop too?
Then I remember that Maren would grocery shop for us during the week. It’s one of the things she took off my plate from the beginning.
“If you’re cooking, I’m shopping,” she’d said. So I would jot down a few items I needed for dinner, and she’d handle the rest. No small job. I’d know, because I’ve done it for as long as I could remember. It requires noticing when we’re running low on things. Remembering to add them to the list. Making a note of what Katie suddenly does and doesn’t like and buying more or less of it.
Feeding a family is practically a full-time job. But Maren made it pleasant. Not only did I get to enjoy her excellent company at the table. She also helped out, which made it all feel so much less overwhelming.
Amazing how much better life is when you’re not shouldering it all on your own.
But suddenly I am shouldering it on my own again. And it sucks. How did I do this for four years? Guess I didn’t know any different.
Katie starts to wail about being hungry. My eyes burn. Last thing I feel like doing is going to the grocery store, but I have no choice.
Because Bald Head is Bald Head and you run into everyone you know everywhere you go, Katie and I see Dad at the Maritime Market.
He smiles at Katie. But then he takes one look at me and frowns. “Tough day?”
“You could say that, yeah.” Jen filled Dad in on what happened last weekend. I’m eternally grateful I don’t have to do that now.
“Papa Joe, do you know when Mare is coming back?” Katie asks. “Daddy is cranky without her.”
My Dad has the grace to laugh. “I’m not sure, Kit Kat. Maybe we can get your daddy to stop being cranky, though.” He looks at me. “Have time for a beer?”
I take a deep breath. Let it out. “Why not? Lemme grab some snacks for this one, and I’ll meet you at the deli.”
There’s a little deli attached to the grocery store where they serve sandwiches and coffee. Recently they added tap beer to the menu, which Dad and I drink on the large deck beside the deli. A pack of Cheez-Its in hand, Katie darts between the tables and trees, making friends with a little boy who looks to be a year or two younger than she is.
Watching them together, my heart pulses. She’s so tender with him. Pats his head when he eats the Cheez-It she gives him. She smiles, hard, when he listens to her very bossy instructions on how to play kitties with her.
“She’s a cutie.” Dad sips his beer and looks at me from the corner of his eye. “She really misses Maren, huh?”
I tug at my sleeves. I’m still in my work clothes, and it’s muggy out here. Winter on the coast: freezing one day, tropical the next.
I consider brushing off Dad’s comment altogether. But the calmness inside me balks at that idea. Dr. Bramble is right. I need help. And I’m not going to get it if I bury the truth in more bullshit.
“I think we all do.” I drink my beer. “I went back to my therapist today.”
Dad claps his hands. “That’s awesome. How’d it go?”
“Well, I had to run to pick up Katie in the middle of the session. I’ve never done this before, but I completely forgot I had to get her.” Rubbing my eyes, I sigh. “I’m so fucking tired, Dad. But the session went well.”
“Did she tell you to get your head out of your ass and beg Maren to take you back?”
My turn to laugh. It feels good, adding to the lightness that’s slowly unfurling inside my chest. “In so many words.”
