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Abi was only made aware of the problem when one of the parent volunteers said something to her.You know, someone really needs to do something about that one guinea pig in Mrs. Cantor’s class, I don’t know what we’re going to do if the thing dies. Does Rabbi David have something about talking to toddlers about death planned?
Abi felt her face get hot all over again just thinking about it. She was appalled. Both with herself and with Esther Cantor. She still felt like the Wicked Witch of the West for the way she stormed into the classroom and demanded to see the guinea pigs. It wasn’t her best day, she admitted. Nor was she at her best when she unilaterally decided No More Class Pets. Usually, if she instituted a rule that affected every classroom she ran it by the Preschool Parent Board first.
Not this time.
She told Esther that she would have to take the guinea pigs home, clearly at least one of them needed medical attention.
Esther rather stiffly informed her that she wasn’t taking guinea pigs to her house. She had a condo. She couldn’t have guinea pigs.
Abi had asked her what she did on the weekends or holidays when the school wasn’t in session.
Esther told her the poor little guys just stayed at the school, and Abi never had a problem with it before, so why was it a problem now? They were guinea pigs after all. You just put a little extra food out.
Abi was flabbergasted.
She was kicking herself, because of course that’s the way Esther’s mind would work. She managed to ask Esther what she intended to do during the longer school holidays, like Winter Break. Esther had hedged, saying she hadn’t thought that far ahead but maybe one of the parents would volunteer to take responsibility.
Abi still felt like rolling her eyes over that one.
Of course, she adopted the guinea pigs. What was she supposed to do? Have some kind of auction so one of the kids could claim them? The parents would love that. And she wasn’t going to split them up so multiple kids could claim them. Some cursory internet research showed that guinea pigs did better in multiples because they were social creatures—not like hamsters.
Meanwhile, Cream was having an extended stay at the vet for an anxiety disorder. The vet wasn’t sure if his hair would grow back, but he was hopeful. Also, the little guy wasn’t chewing on the cage bars anymore, so that was promising.
Abi figured whatever the vet bill ended up being was going to be part of her atonement for the whole situation.
She’d never really considered herself the kind of person who would adopt guinea pigs in the first place, but now that they lived with her, she really couldn’t imagine her life without them. They were such fascinating creatures. And it helped that they were adorable and cuddly. The kids at the preschool still asked about them occasionally, and Abi was happy to show them pictures of Latke and Applesauce (Cream too, if she had them), but she wasn’t willing to bring them back in for a visit. It wasn’t fair to the little creatures. They deserved routine.
Abi clicked away from her email and switched over to the shopping app, idly looking at guinea pig cages that were larger than the one Esther had them in. It had only been a few weeks. She hadn’t wanted to give them too much change too quickly, but they were comfortable in her house now, they deserved something a little different.
If Abi was being honest with herself, she knew she was being a little petty. Mainly she wanted anything from their previous life out of her house just because she had a personal dislike for the teacher. But, too, she could afford it, so getting them a bigger cage with a ramp or a tiny house or something for them to have some fun wasn’t the worst idea she ever had.
She felt an involuntary punch in the gut at the prices on the website.
Of course, everything was ridiculously expensive. She wasn’t sure why she was surprised. She made a face. Nothing she was seeing was making her feel like Latke, Applesauce, and Cream would be living their best little piggie lives if she sprang for expedited shipping. She clicked over to Google and typed out “DIY Guinea Pig Enclosures.” Maybe other pet owners had solved this problem already. Surely there was a way to do this that was easier than buying something that was only a little better than what she already had.
Applesauce snuffled around her wrist, inspecting what was on the computer screen. She felt Applesauce’s little nose wriggling around her pulse and then her teensy guinea pig tongue. The first time that had happened Abi had a minor heart attack wondering if guinea pigs were carnivorous, but google assured her it was how they showed affection.
“Do you like that?” Abi crooned, clicking on a guinea pig enclosure that had been made from a converted Barbie doll house. Abi had to admit that it did look cool, though she couldn’t help but wonder how the pressboard walls would hold up when it came time to clean. Applesauce made a little noise of approval and went back to snuffling around Abi’s wrist. Abi took the hint and gave her a good scritch under her chin. She reached up to check on Latke on her shoulder. The munchkin liked to nap up there. This was definitely the most relaxing night she’d had in a while.
Her phone beeped next to her and she glanced at it.
What did that man want now?
EIGHT
Ilan wasn’t sure why he was messaging her.
Rachel was the one blowing up his phone for sex, if that was what he wanted he could just respond to her. He sat back for a moment, wondering if he was making a mistake. But no, it wasn’t like that, he was messaging Abi because he wanted to see Abi.
Why? That was a whole other conversation he could have later.
He saw the little ellipses pop up to show she was responding and sipped his beer, choosing to focus on the fact that she was responding at all as a good sign. His text message had been innocuous enough, stating that they hadn’t ever actually gotten around to talking about why she’d called him over to her house in the first place.
“You’re right, we didn’t,” he read aloud from the phone screen, his mouth twisting. Nothing else, just that. He tried to read into the tone, but there wasn’t much there. It wasn’t exactly the conversation opening he’d been hoping for. He made a face at Ari’s voice in his head telling him he was being a dickhole. He rolled his eyes. If he was going to hear his kid brother’s voice in his head, he should just call him.
“Hey, bro,” Ari’s tone was distracted, and Ilan wondered what he was interrupting. He almost asked, but Ari hadn’t stopped talking. “What’s up? I have about five minutes before Crystal yells at me.”
Crystal was Ari’s sound engineer.
