Page 6 of Sex. Love. Marriage.
Oliver tugs on my hand. “Mom, I thought Dad was taking me to school?”
It hits me then. My shoulders sink. “Damn it,” I mumble, realizing Noah forgot to take Oliver with him. I know what you’re thinking, how could he have forgotten? If you’re a parent, a tired one, you realize how completely possible that one is. But let’s not judge. It’s not like he left him at a bar or something.
I call Noah while I change Finley’s diaper and attempt to get Hazel wearing clothes. If you hadn’t noticed, she’s been in her My Little Pony underwear since she came downstairs this morning.
Noah doesn’t answer his phone. No surprise there. He rarely answers his phone, and I seldom leave a message.
“Why do I have to wear clothes?” Hazel asks, eating Goldfish crackers from the Costco-size box that’s as big as her torso. “Sevi never has clothes on.”
“Because running around naked past three isn’t an option unless you’re a stripper.” I don’t focus on the fact that Hazel’s choosing to eat crackers as opposed to the pancakes I made from scratch this morning that she didn’t touch. I’m much more concerned with the fact that she’s getting cracker crumbs all over the wood floors and in about two minutes—when my mom-brain kicks in and I forget they’re there—I’m going to step on them. Have you ever stepped on cracker crumbs? Might as well be glass when you’re barefoot. Of course, logic would say just clean them up right away and you won’t forget. Well, not unlike war, logic has no place in my world before 8:00 a.m.
Hazel crams a handful of the crackers in her mouth, talking at the same time. While I’m not entirely sure what she says next, it sounds similar to, “What’s a stripper?”
I should not be having this conversation with my five-year-old but sometimes it’s best to be truthful. “Someone who takes their clothes off for a living.”
“I like that. I wanna be a stripper.”
I smile at her and set my cell phone on the changing table next to the diaper wipes. “Way to have goals, sweetie. Now put some clothes on or you’re going to be late for school.”
A dramatic sigh follows. “Fine.” And then she disappears across the hall into her bedroom.
I’m finishing up changing Finley when my phone rings. Glaring at the screen, I slide my finger across the screen and hold it up to my ear. “You forgot your son,” I tell him without even saying hello first.
“I know, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll take him but can you take him to basketball tonight? Hazel has ballet at the same time and they’re across town from one another.”
“Yeah.” Silence fills the line for a moment before he says, “I miss the days when you called to tell me that you were naked and waiting for me in bed.”
It’s like our conversation the other night never happened, and in part, it makes me angry because he’s constantly avoiding everything for the sake of not having an argument. “Have I ever called you to say that?” I laugh, pushing my anger aside and pick Fin up from the changing table. She tries to take the phone but gives up when I hand her the package of wipes. She can’t open them, but she sure tries.
“No, but a guy can dream, can’t he?” Noah chuckles and the sound sparks a smile.
“I suppose.” And then I think about what he said and imagine myself doing just that. I miss those days too. When everything was new and exciting. It’s not that I don’t want to have sex every day. I’d love to have him come home every night andFifty Shades of Greymy ass up against the wall, but that’s just not reality when you have kids. Not only is wall sex incredibly awkward and impossible for the woman to get off, but we also don’t have time for that with a baby in the house. You leave them alone for even a minute and they’re next door eating out of your neighbor’s dog bowl with no clothes on. True story, unfortunately.
“Can Fin please sleep in her own bed tonight?” Noah practically begs. “My balls are gonna be black soon, babe. And I fucking miss you.”
“I know.” I sigh, pushing out a heavy breath and remembering how good this morning felt having him close. “I miss you too, but you’re the one that freaked out over a spider this morning. And I should also point out, you know you can take care ofthatyourself.”
“What’s the point of being married if I have to take care of it?” I don’t miss the fact that since that heated argument we had, us separating hasn’t been mentioned. It’s like a big white elephant sitting on our hearts, both of us looking the other way. Isn’t that how life-altering news works though? You avoid it until reality comes crashing down? Right now, we’re still in the avoiding stages and trying to figure out where we go from here.
By the way, Noah’s being completely serious. He’ll take care of it if he absolutely has to, but given the option, sex is pretty much his answer for all of life’s problems.
“Oh, stop. It hasn’t beenthatlong,” I finally say. “And this morning counts. Kind of.”
“No way. That doesn’t count at all.” He scoffs. “And it’s bullshit. Kel, it’s been thir—” He’s cut off by Fin taking my phone from me, babbling something into the speaker and then pressing the End button and tossing it across the room onto the floor. She’s such a jerk sometimes.
I stare at her only to have her give me a cheeky smile. “Why’d you do that?”
I get no reply, only a finger in my face as if she’s telling me no. At thirteen months old, Finley doesn’t talk. Not even mama or dada. One time we got a “Shhh,” and her pressing Noah’s lips together as if she had been telling him to shut the fuck up. But no actual words. Believe me, though, judging by this kid’s temper and general disposition, I’m thinking it’s for the better.
“Can I wear this?” Hazel asks, coming back into the room.
My eyes fall to Hazel and the pink Texas State shirt she’s wearing. Immediately, I tear up. It hits my nose first, like I’ve been punched in the face or snorted hot sauce. Then my eyes burn, followed by the pain in my chest.
I struggle to whisper, “Yeah, that’s fine, honey.”
Hazel looks down at the shirt, holding it out by the hem away from her body. “Did sissy like this one?”
