16. Berg
Chapter sixteen
Berg
T he front door whines when I open it, and I make a mental note to oil the hinges this weekend.
“Caro?” I call out, wondering if she’s fallen asleep with the girls like I always do.
“In here.”
I find her parked on my living room floor between the couch and the coffee table, a blanket pulled over her lap and a couple of magazines open on the table. Loose hair tumbles around her face as she turns and gives me a nonchalant wave.
“Hey. Don’t expect me to move anytime soon. I’ve fallen and I can’t get up.”
“Is that so?” I set my lunch kit and jacket down, too tired to put everything where it goes .
If future me ever asks why my kids don’t know how to pick up after themselves, I know the reason. As I enter the living room, she starts a dramatic slow clap.
“Hats off to you. Don’t know how you do it.”
Caro is beautiful, but her movements are sluggish and her voice is lacking some of its normal energy.
“Did they run you ragged?”
“We couldn’t find Leggy. It was touch and go for a bit there.”
I wince, knowing exactly how Lou can get at bedtime when the routine goes awry. Putting a new person in charge of bedtime would have been hard enough. Not having her comfort item? Yikes.
“I have a backup Leggy in a basket above my closet.”
“Wow. That’s some expert level parenting.”
“It’s really not. We received two of them as a gift when she was a baby, and when I noticed it was her favourite, I hung on to the extra.”
“Still. It’s smart.”
I spot the empty glass of wine next to a bowl of leftover popcorn kernels.
She follows my line of sight and chews her lip nervously.
“Sorry. I only drank one glass.”
Does she think I’m going to chew her out for having a drink once the kids are in bed? I’d have to have a long talk with myself in the mirror if I’m going to impose that rule.
“You want another?”
“Now? ”
“Yeah. Why not? We both pulled a twelve hour day. Let’s live a little.”
“Okay.”
I head for the kitchen, pulling a fresh wine glass down from the cabinet and throwing another bag of popcorn in the microwave.
“Oh! Supper is in the fridge!”
Gratitude washes over me. Aside from having the odd meal with friends, nobody cooks for me. “I’ll take it for lunch tomorrow. I grabbed something from the drive-thru. I was starving.”
I return to the living room with a steaming bowl of popcorn and refill Caro’s glass.
“Thank you. Oh, before I forget. Louisa shredded the taco cheese like an absolute champ tonight. So, make sure you tell her that at breakfast.”
It’s a weird feeling to have someone else fill me in on my children’s day.
“I got your pictures from the mall.”
“They are definitely going to give you a fashion show tomorrow. Let me know if I got too much. I can return some of it and—”
I rest my hand on her shoulder to stop her.
“If they’re happy, I’m happy.”
I watch her shoulders relax.
“And the pedicures…”
I smile at the memory of the photo of their tiny pink toenails that Caro sent .
The muscles bunch right back up, but I reassure her right away.
“That was awesome, too. Thank you. And I’m glad you treated yourself.”
“Those nail ladies are surprisingly strong. She basically forced me into the chair. I felt kind of guilty.”
“I’m sure. And don’t feel guilty, please. You doing it with them was part of the experience.”
“Yeah, that was fun. But it was a bit much for Lou, I think. She’s really wiped.”
Playfully, I jostle Caro’s shoulder. “Oh, she’s wiped?”
“Fine!” she laughs. “I am also wiped. They are fun and they are a lot.”
“The dichotomy of parenthood.”
“Hey, that’s the word of the day,” she says.
“Saw the calendar?”
“Natalie made sure I did.”
“She’s my little rule follower. Most of the time.”
The glass of wine goes down easily after the day I had. I explain to Caro that a permit we’ve been waiting for keeps getting delayed, and it’s really screwing our schedule. It’s getting late, and I’d normally be showered and crawled into bed by now on a weeknight, but I’m enjoying the companionship of sitting side by side with Caro too much. Being able to have a conversation with an adult after work has a special sort of feel to it .
“I’m taking up your whole evening. Once I poured that wine and sat down, I could barely move. I should honestly go to sleep.”
“I don’t mind. It’s called ‘revenge bedtime procrastination’.”
Caro wrinkles her nose, and it’s criminally cute. “Explain.”
There’s a bit of wine left in the bottle, so I split it between our glasses.
“It’s when you know you should be in bed. But you’ve been really busy all day doing the things you have to do, so you stay up late doing the things you want to do.”
“Do you do that?”
“All the time.”
“What do you stay up late doing?”
I know her question is totally innocent, but I feel my cheeks heat, flushing red like the wine coating the inside of my glass.
“Oh my god,” she cries, covering her eyes with her hands.
I laugh. As much as I’m embarrassed, her mortification is adorable, and I can’t help but puff up my chest a bit knowing what she’s imagining. It only takes me two seconds to recall the way her body felt mashed against mine this morning.
I clear my throat, turning the page of a magazine simply to give me something to do with my hands. I read the headline on the next page.
"Survey Says: 'Ass Man' or a 'Boob Man'? Find Out How to…” I falter, glancing at Caro’s gleeful expression.
She smirks, pointing at the magazine. “Please, continue.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Keep Him Glued to Your Curves…"
I think I’m redder than before. I’ll never open a women’s magazine again.
The base of Caro’s empty wine glass clinks against the coffee table as she sets it down. “Which one are you?”
“What?”
“Are you a boob man, or an ass man, Berg?”
“Stick around and find out which one catches my eye?”
Her mouth pops open, and I drop my forehead into my palm.
“That was really inappropriate. I’m sorry.”
“No,” she says, popping up off the carpet like she sat on a Lego. “I’m the one that asked. It’s my stupid magazine. Play stupid games, you know?”
She folds the blanket and throws it over the back of the couch while I gather the dishes and set them in the sink. I join her in my foyer as she’s slipping on her shoes, sort of surprised at how disappointed I am to see her go.
“Hey, Caro? What’s the male equivalent?” I ask, stalling.
She glances up at me as she ties her laces. “What do you mean?”
“Of ‘ass and boobs’. Is it like…ass and pecs?”
It’s such a stupid question, but she laughs as she stands, tapping her finger against her lip.
“Ass, for sure. And…I don’t know. Maybe, forearms? Yeah, forearms.” She nods definitively .
“Forearms are not in the same realm as boobs.”
“Ah hah!” She points a finger at me. “So, you’re a boob guy.”
“Shit,” I swear, swallowing at the memory of her trying to cover hers in her bathroom.
“Gotcha, MacMillan.”
I hang my head, wondering if I’ll ever be able to stop blushing around her.
“Want me to walk you home?”
“I live downstairs, Berg. I’ll just yell when I get there.”
“Right, of course. Same time tomorrow?”
“That’s the job!” she says, cheerfully, pulling open the door and walking out.
She’ll be back in the morning, and even that feels too long.