Page 20 of Challenged By You
“Yeah?”
“Can I have your slice of sausage pizza?”
“No. Now, go away. I have to write.”
“I love you too, big brother.”
I just smile because I know he does. And it’s rare those eight minutes of being older feel pretty damn good. But today is one of them.
Chapter 8
Trina
“Mom.” I’m running ten minutes late because Chris was clinging to me to not go which made it virtually impossible for me to change. “It would really be a big help if you came to my apartment tonight instead of disrupting the kids to bring them to yours.”
“That’s just not convenient for me, Trina. We have rules,” she snipes.
“I appreciate that.” Because I certainly don’t understand. All I’m asking her to do is walk down the hall and watch her grandchildren from my apartment instead of hers. “But Chris is acting a little off. I think he’d feel more comfortable if he was with his own things,” I begin before I’m interrupted.
“I can’t watch my shows from your place. God, you don’t even own a television.” The disgust radiating from her voice stills my movement from hurried to almost slow motion. I bend down and pick up my son and nuzzle him just beneath his jaw. “And if I put the children down when you want me to instead of when I think they should go down…” She drones on in my ear about my failures as a parent while Chris settles against me.
God, I hate being in this predicament. The very last thing I want to do is to leave my babies in her care to absorb her toxicity. Every time I do, I wonder if she’s spewing the same anger I heard every day of my life. But what am I supposed to do? I gave up every dollar to my name for lawyer fees in order to keep my children, and I will never regret a single dime I spent to retain full custody of them.
I just need a few more years, I remind myself again as Mom drones on about my selfishness and mistakes. If I can keep living the way I am, I can afford to look into different childcare options. Or save enough money to move us all to an apartment closer to work? It won’t be a small town someplace where I would be able to buy a house again, but if I can free up time commuting, then I’ll have more time for Annie and Chris. Maybe I can find the New York my coworkers go on and on about. Squeezing my eyes closed, I’m unaware of the hot moisture seeping out that lands on my son’s smooth skin.
“Mama?” Chris lifts his head and places his hands on either side of my face. “No cwy.”
“Sorry, baby.” I reach for a tissue on the table and quickly wipe his skin. “I didn’t mean to get you wet.”
“Mama sad?” His head tilts as Annie hears her brother and drags her favorite bear over to hug my legs.
“I’m always sad when I have to leave you both,” I tell them truthfully. That gets me one set of chubby arms wrapped around my neck in a choke hold and another grabbing onto my leg like a monkey. “But we have to get ready to go to Grandma’s. Mama has to go to work.”
Chris opens his mouth, but I lay a finger on it. “How about a special treat of fresh fruit when we go to the farmer’s market this week if you both let me get ready?”
Chris becomes a dead weight in my arms. “Nanners!” he shrieks. He grabs Annie, and they begin shaking their bodies in a banana dance they invented.
There’s nothing more healing than the laughter that flows through me as I reach over them for my clean jeans. Quickly shedding my leggings, I pull them on with socks and boots. I finish grabbing the twin’s bag filled with extra pull-ups, toys, and food, before I snag my purse. “Okay. Let’s go to Grandma’s,” I encourage. Glancing at my watch, I realize I’m going to have to pay for the express to avoid being late.
“Okay,” Annie chirps. Grabbing her bear, she heads for the door. Chris is on her heels holding his bunny. Quickly I unlock the door, ushering them into the hallway, but then huddling them in front of me while I relock the triple lock. Quickly, we hurry down the hall to my mother’s, who’s ready with her effervescent mask the minute she sees my kids. After a few moments of being ignored, which is better than the disdain I dealt with earlier, I kiss my kids and race toward the elevator, prepared to sprint to the subway stop the moment I burst from the apartment doors.
* * *
Hours later,I’m pulling a dark chocolate and English walnut pie out of the oven when Chef Sterling comes around. “Impressive, Paxton. I think this will be interesting as the dessert of the day,” she remarks as she passes by.
I let out a quick breath before replying, “Thank you, Chef.” But instead of moving on, she lingers at my station.
“Have you given any thought to what you’re going to make when Jonas Rice comes back in a month? As delicious as this is for our clients, I’m not so certain it’s going to wow the most revered food critic of New York City.”
“To be honest, I haven’t. I have a feeling if I think about it too much I’m going to psych myself out.”
Her comfortable face turns thoughtful. “That may be true. It may be best to just go with the flow and see what ends up inspiring you.”
“I don’t want it to be something where I find a half-eaten chicken salad to work with on my station though,” I warn.
A smile splits her wide face in two. “We’re not planning on chopping you, Paxton. Just do your best and don’t worry.”
“The first I can promise; the second isn’t as easy.”
