43
The following day was business as usual at the office, except for a single rose on my desk when I walked in, the word November written on a slip of paper under it. I looked around, but Michael was in his office on the phone, and Stuart hadn’t even looked up at me yet. I smiled, slipping the note into my purse. And for three days, we did what we did best.
Fran had declined my invitation of a job for now. “What happens if he loses?” she asked. “I don’t want to be back to square one again. Besides, Miss Llewelyn is leaving next month, and they offered me her job.”
I wanted to assure her that he wouldn’t lose. But I couldn’t promise that. And I, of all people, understood not wanting to depend on what a man did to be secure.
“I understand,” I said. “But if he wins and you do want to be in an office, we’re still happy to hire you in November. Speaking of which, I’m up to my eyeballs until the election, but I’d love to get lunch, or a drink, or dinner, or something when it’s done.”
“I’d like that,” Fran said. “We can toast your divorce.”
I agreed, thinking what a relief that would be. Assuming everything went my way, that was.
Summer was winding down as we entered the home stretch of the election, and when the weekend rolled around, we spent most of it at the club, the kids enjoying their last weekend of splashing in the pool before it closed after Labor Day. I let them splash me and laughed with them, feeling like I was making up for all the time I had spent away from them during the summer months.
Robbie would be starting kindergarten on Tuesday, and on Saturday afternoon we went shopping for supplies.
“What if none of my friends are in my class?” he asked quietly as we stood in line to check out. The store was noisy, and I wasn’t positive I heard a quiver in his voice until I looked down at his face, which suddenly looked so much more grown-up than it had.
“We already know Freddy is in your class,” I said. “And that’s the fun part. You make new friends.”
“I don’t want new friends,” he said, his bottom lip beginning to shake in a prelude to tears.
I knelt down, ignoring the line behind us. “Here’s the secret about kindergarten,” I said. “Everyone in your class is going to live super-close to us.”
“They are?”
“Uh-huh,” I said. A good chunk of his friends were from the club, and they were scattered throughout Montgomery County. “Every last one of them will live within bike-riding distance.”
His face fell again, and I could have kicked myself. We had bought Robbie a new bike for Hanukkah, with Larry swearing he would teach him to ride it when the weather got warmer. I had suggested he take it when he took the kids a couple weeks ago per our new legal agreement, but Larry said he couldn’t do that with Debbie there too.
My father had taught me to ride in the nebulous past, and all I remembered was begging for him not to let go until one day I didn’t even realize he had.
For a split second I debated asking Michael to help teach him. But that would have been inappropriate, and Robbie deserved the security of a parent holding his bike. Which meant it had now fallen on me, like so much of the rest of parenting had.
“Let’s go practice on your bike when we get home,” I said. “And we’ll keep working on it. By spring, when you have a million new best friends, you’ll be a pro.”
Robbie nodded. He had only asked about Larry a couple of times, usually after being dropped back off. And I wondered if Larry would someday realize how much he had missed and regret it. I didn’t care if he regretted me, but I very much hoped he regretted being such an absent father.
“Want to get ice cream before we go home?” I asked him.
He did. There wasn’t much an ice cream cone couldn’t cure.
On Tuesday, I walked Robbie to the elementary school, having already warned Michael and Stuart that I would be late all week. Once he was acclimated, my mother could bring him, but for the first week, I wanted it to be me. October was going to be a mess between the campaign and the divorce, and I wanted to make sure the kids were in a good place before we got to that.
He dragged his feet, pulling on my hand as we approached the brick building. “Hey,” I said, stopping and squatting down to his level. “Did you know that on my first day of school, I threw up?”
“You did?” he asked halfheartedly.
“I did. All over Grandma.”
That wasn’t entirely true. It had been all over myself. But it got the giggle I had hoped for. Which was fair—the idea of someone throwing up on my mother was hilarious. Although I was sure she was made of something akin to Teflon, and any bodily fluids would simply bounce off her.
“It’s true,” I said. “I was so nervous that I threw up. And Grandma was so mad. She had picked out the perfect outfit for me and I ruined it. But do you know what else?”
“What?”
“When Rosa came to pick me up, I didn’t want to leave because I was having so much fun.”
He looked unsure. “Is that true?”
“It is,” I said. “School is scary because you haven’t been there. But once you know what to expect, it’s a lot of fun. And every other kid in there is just as nervous as you are.”
“They are?”
“They are.”
“Robbie!” a voice yelled. We both turned to see Freddy Rosenblatt running up the block toward us, pursued by his harried mother.
“Hi, Freddy.” Robbie’s greeting to his best friend was pretty lackluster, betraying how nervous he was.
“I threw up,” Freddy said proudly. “Mommy said I’m nervous, but”—he lowered his voice—“really her breakfast was yucky.”
“My mommy threw up too,” Robbie said.
Freddy’s mother took a step back. “Not today,” I said. “On my first day of kindergarten.” She looked unconvinced.
We finally reached the building, and I pulled Robbie in for a hug. “Can you pick me up today?”
I hadn’t thought about that. We had established that my mother would walk up with Debbie to get him. But the way he looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes that looked just a little too wet broke my resolve.
“I’ll try,” I said. “But if I can’t, it’ll be Grandma and Debbie, okay?”
He nodded. “If Michael wins the election, will you be able to pick me up every day?”
I didn’t reply at first. But the real answer was that win or lose, I would likely be out of a job come November 7. Yes, Michael would find a way to keep me on staff if I wanted to stay, but that would look bad if we were involved. I didn’t know what we were going to be, but I liked the idea of giving us a try. I also didn’t know what Michael actually wanted, but that rose was a good indication that it wasn’t just a champagne-fueled kiss.
And as I looked at Robbie, my answer was clear. “Win or lose,” I said. “I’ll be home a lot more after the election.”
I didn’t know that I would stop working, but I did know that I was going to make sure I had more time for my kids.
I gave Robbie one more hug and kissed the top of his head, something he would have usually squirmed out of. Then I gave him a gentle push. He and Freddy walked in holding hands. Robbie looked back over his shoulder and gave me a wave. Freddy never looked back.
I watched until I couldn’t see him through the door anymore, feeling oddly emotional about my baby going off to school. And for a split second, I wanted to call Larry and tell him about the drop-off.
That feeling evaporated by the time I turned to walk to the bus stop, and was completely forgotten by the time I reached the office, where a man sat on a bench outside the building.
When he stood up, I stopped walking.
It was Larry, looking serious and holding a manila envelope.
My mouth went dry.
“Beverly,” he said with a nod. “We need to talk.”