Page 9 of Good and Gone

“Congratulations,” I say, finally finding my voice. It sounds small and far away.

“Thanks. I’m excited.” He looks at me, his eyes hopeful. “Do you have any kids?”

If his wife is a follower of mine, he likely already knows the answer. “Um…”

“You will someday. You’re too good a person not to.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “It was great chatting, but I need to make this call.”

He looks at me like he doesn’t believe me and then dejectedly mutters something I can’t quite make out before wandering back to his car.

I dial roadside assistance. The automated voice system asks me what my name is and where I am. I press zero a bunch of times and I’m placed on hold. I feel for my husband. It’s maddening listening to elevator music when all you really want to hear is a person. After two minutes and forty-seven seconds, I give up and book an Uber. I’ll deal with my car later. I can't afford to mess up this job.

A lot goes into shoots. Minutes are measured in dollars, and the model arriving late sets off a chain reaction. Not to mention, word spreads fast in this industry, and there aren’t many second chances to be had.

When I get the notification that my driver is five minutes away, I try Tyler again, and it goes to voicemail. I leave a message and then try my mom. She answers on the second ring. That’s my mother for you.

When I tell her the situation, she asks why I didn't call her first, and then I remember why I don't call her in times like these. It's because her first words are invariably critical. But I don't say that. I just tell her I have roadside assistance coming and a ride is on the way.

“You shouldn’t have agreed to do that shoot in the first place,” she tells me. “You’re never at your best first thing in the morning.”

So that’s where my daughter gets it.“That’s not true.”

“It is true,” she says. “Always has been.”

I think of Lily’s doctor.Always and never are seldom correct.I need my mother to pick up the kids after school, so this is not the time to argue—not that she would turn me down even if I did. Her picking up the kids only drives her point home.

“I guess,” I say. “Anyway, I was wondering if you could pick up the kids after school. Our sitter called in sick.”

“Your photo shoot lasts all day?”

“No, I have two meetings after. Why?”

“No reason,” she tells me. “But I thought you said you were going to slow down.”

“I am,” I say. “If you can’t do it, that’s okay. I’ll call Jackie.”

“Jackie,” my mother scoffs. “Right.”

There’s a long pause. “I’m sure she’s golfing, honey. You know how that woman is. Always busy.”

Thatwoman is my mother-in-law.

“It’s fine,” she tells me. “I can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“I said I’d do it, Hailey. Didn’t I?”

It’s not what she’s saying that’s the problem. She thinks I need to be home more. She thinks I should be the one picking my kids up from school. She thinks I should do everything like she did. “Thanks, Mom,” I say, trying to end the call on a positive note. “I promise things are going to slow down soon.”

When I look up, the man with the long hair is seated in his car, watching me. He’s far enough away that I can’t say for sure, but I could swear there’s a smile on his face.

6

Hailey

My already-overbooked day was stretched even thinner as I rushed from my photo shoot downtown to my meetings across town, via Uber.

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