Chapter 13
13
DAISY
L iam runs through the sprayers at the splash pad, chasing another kid and squealing. I stand just outside the splash zone taking pictures of him. He’s having a blast here. We arranged to meet up with a couple kids from his day camp for the afternoon. I sit down after a while and scroll through the photos, cropping them and fixing the lighting, applying different filters. I still like the editing features, and I can’t get it out of my head that when Benny ran across prints of my photos, he framed them. He didn’t toss them in the trash or put them through a shredder for spite. Seeing them there makes me think he never hated me for leaving. I only hated myself.
When I told him I didn’t feel safe, that his job was dangerous—I was hoping against hope that maybe he would be able to convince me it was okay to fall for him again. That things were better now, safer now. I knew better, but I held out hope.
I haven’t seen him in days. He texted me a few times, but he hasn’t stopped by Snip or pushed me to meet up with him. I think about him all the time—giddy and nervous as I was as a teenager. Something I learned from becoming a mom is to put the anxiety aside and be present in this moment. I do that now, watch my son and feel like I’m consumed by the warmest light because his laughter does that to me.
It makes the whole world beautiful and hopeful again. No matter how many shadows my gloom and worry try to cast, there is always the immediate and inevitable reality of Liam. He’s a positive force, endlessly curious and energetic and vibrant. A chatterbox who is impossible to ignore. Someone has brought speakers and a song comes on that Liam knows. He starts dancing. Not a regular kid dance of happy movement, but some approximation of a line dance.
He concentrates and then slides to the side and brings his feet together, tries to do something with his arms and then turns to execute another step. I’m riveted and trying hard not to laugh. Not because I think it's silly or laughable but because he’s so serious about it and so little that it’s another source of delight. One of the camp kids comes to join him and they practice some footwork together. I watch them try to master it and then dissolve into giggles. It’s adorable.
When the kids start bickering a while later, I pack up and take him home. He’s tired, and I know from long experience that the cranky will only get worse until he gets some sleep. Back at my mom’s I quickly make grilled cheese and fruit salad and make him brush his teeth. He’s almost asleep before his head hits the pillow. I go back out to wash the skillet even though I’m pretty wiped out myself.
“Did you count the splash pad as a bath today?” Mom asks me.
“Yeah. I know I should’ve made him take a bath, but it wasn’t worth the battle.”
“A dirty kid is better than a temper tantrum,” she says. “You have no idea how many times I just let you play in the garden hose and called it a shower. You were the grouchiest little thing at his age,” she smiles, “nobody was going to convince you of anything.”
“What you’re saying is that you hoped I’d have a kid just like me,” I smirk.
“No, you were a great kid. I loved you to bits and still do. You were just hardheaded.”
“I still am,” I say ruefully.
“How’s work going?”
“Pretty good. My two-week trial is up, and they haven’t asked me to leave so I’m guessing they like me. Today was kind of slow. I did some sweeping, answered phones. Tomorrow I’m booked though. So, it’ll be a busy one.”
“You like it?”
“I love it. It’s really well managed, and the stylists are nice. Sasha even has a little boy Liam’s age. They had a blast at the splash pad today. I’m so tired,” I say with a comical groan.
“I remember those days. Go to bed early. Let the rest go for tonight. Trust me.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I say and take her advice.
When I slip in bed beside my son, I lay my hand on his back and whisper that I love him so much. I’m so lucky to have him. As much as I worried about this move, I’m happy here. It’s ironic because I’m back in the same place I ran away from. I’ve brought my son into the place I was sure was too dangerous. I lie by omission, keep this massive secret. My guilt is heavy, and to my shame, I run back to Benny’s arms every chance I get.
The next few days are hectic, and I barely get a moment to sit down. I have back-to-back clients at work and I’m helping Liam with a project for day camp that involves plants, poster board and way too much glue. My mom tries to pitch in but once the glitter comes out, she shakes her head.
“Nope, I don’t do glitter. I’m still cleaning purple sparkles out of the linoleum from when your mom was in school. Take it outside,” she says.
My boy and I sit at the battered picnic table on our tiny patio and put the finishing touches on the poster. I hug him, take a picture of him with his project, and leave it out on the picnic table to dry. We head back inside, and I give him a quick snack after he washes his hands.
My phone vibrates inside my pocket. I have a couple of texts from Benny, and I won’t read them with Liam in the room. I miss him like crazy. When I get called into the salon to cover Sasha’s shift because her son is throwing up, my mom offers to watch Liam. She’s moving a lot better these days, and I feel comfortable leaving him with her for longer periods of time. I thank her and give her his tablet in case she needs it.
At work, I do all of Sasha’s appointments for the day. While I’m razoring the edges of a cute pixie cut, the client starts talking about setting up her classroom. I find out she’s a kindergarten teacher at the school Liam will attend. After about three minutes, I really hope that he gets to be in her class. I angle her bangs and show her how to sweep them to the side slightly for a more tousled look. She loves it and says she’ll ask for me next time.
I don’t want to take Sasha’s client, so I decline but tell her I hope to see her once school starts. The day flies by, and it’s only at my dinner break after I Facetime with Liam that I have time to miss Benny. I wish he’d walk through the door right now even though I told him never to show up at my work again. I text him on impulse and tell him I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. I wait a minute but he doesn’t respond. A little disappointed, I get back to work.
While I touch up gray roots and trim the ends of sleek bobs, I let myself think about what I’d do differently if this were my salon. I’d have a full-time desk person. The phone and bookings would be covered by them instead of all the stylists doing their own appointment booking and a part-timer answering phones.
They could call in stylists to cover shifts if there was an illness or emergency. I wonder about a centralized app for all scheduling, one with a messaging interface as well. I’d set up a bank of four shampoo sinks back-to-back in pairs to take up less space than the line of them along the back wall. That would leave room for a little coffee cart with syrups and flavored creamers for the staff and clients. Maybe one day, I tell myself.
After work, I pick up deli sandwiches for supper. Mom has her leg stretched out on the couch while she does a sudoku. Liam’s watching a dinosaur cartoon and eating a huge bowl of cereal. I glance at the deli bag in my hand and shrug.
“I got sandwiches and pickles. If you don’t want yours now, I’ll put it in the fridge.”
Mom starts to get up and reach for her walker. “Let me bring it to you on a tray,” I say, and hurry to the kitchen. I get the tray down from the top of the cupboard, wipe it off and arrange a plate with her turkey on rye, chips and pickle. I get her an apple and a bottle of water from the fridge and present it to her.
“Thank you, baby. This is nice. You don’t have to wait on me though. I’m getting much better.”
“Wow,” Liam says with a mouthful of cereal, “She never lets me eat by the TV.”
“I’m special,” she quips.
“It’s only if you have broken bones,” I tell him. “You want to eat your sandwich?”
“No thanks, Mommy. I’m full,” he flops back onto the floor, flipping over his bowl of cereal in the process. Thank goodness it didn’t have any milk in it. I help him scoop it back into the bowl and herd him to the bathtub. I read hm a book while he plays in the tub and promise to take him to the library in the morning before camp.
Once he’s asleep, I grab my mom’s tray, wash the dishes and decide against staying up for any reason. I had promised myself I’d slip out for an hour to see Benny, but I’m wiped out and tomorrow’s another long day.
I miss him, and sadness twists in my chest when I think of him. When my phone buzzes with an alert that he replied to my message from earlier, I feel relief and elation. Miss you too. Still in a meeting .
It makes me feel better that he’s busy too, that I didn’t miss a chance to see him. I fall asleep yearning for him and wake wishing I could be in his arms. Same as every other day. I’m not sure when I got in this deep, but I can’t make myself want to take a step back.
I’m playing with fire, and it’s only a matter of time before I get burned.