5
The very next afternoon, Michael and I were at the courthouse getting our marriage license. He was in a rush, quickly helping me move my things into his apartment.
A couple of weeks ago, he had received an assignment that would take him overseas for an extended peri od. He’d delayed his departure because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Patrick alone for so long.
“I’ll be gone for more than half a year this time. I’m counting on you to take care of Patrick. If anything com es up, just message me. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”
“Patrick can be a handful at school. You might have to take some heat from the teachers for me.”
“If he misbehaves and makes you angry, you have my permission to discipline him. Just don’t hurt him okay?”
‘And… video call me if you miss me.”
Michael recited his laundry list of instructions as he stood in the security line at the airport.
had suggested Patrick skip a day of school to see him off, but the boy had stubbornly refused.
Michael’s figure grew smaller and smaller, eventually swallowed by the bustling airport crowd.
On the way back, I took a detour to the supermarket.
Ever since I’d noticed Patrick’s fear of the nanny, I’d had Michael let her go. With no one else to cook, the jol
ell to me.
Day one of motherhood. To make a good first impression, I drove to pick him up from school. But when I go here, I saw him lingering by the school gates with a group of other kids.
They were jumping around him, singing some kind of song.
What was going on? A party at the school gate? It wasn’t his birthday.
My patience wore thin. I got out of the car and plucked Patrick from the center of the circle. “Sorry, guys Patrick’s mom wants him home for dinner, so he can’t play right now.”
I buckled him into the back seat. The seatbelt was loose, completely useless.
Note to self: buy a booster seat.
Buddy sniffed around him, licking his hand from time to time and nudging his chin with his head.
“What do you want for dinner tonight?”
Silence.
Right. I’d almost forgotten. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about his new stepmom.
I changed the subject. “I fired the nanny.”
I watched his reflection in the rearview mirror.
His head shot up, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Then, completely out of context, he answered my first que
stion.
“I want barbecue ribs, and honey-glazed ribs, and…”
A cold sweat prickled my back.
I had clearly overestimated my culinary skills. In the end, we went out for dinner.
