Page 37 of Pick-Up
About ditching me. About ignoring me. About Hugo, who she’d kissed hours after he dumped me.
“Hey, Sasha,” I said.
She turned her gaze on me again. Just then, one of her besties, Rebecca, one of those loyal girls, tugged her by the arm and, of course, loaded her into thefirstwaiting cab.
“Whoisthat girl, anyway?” Rebecca said loudly enough for me to hear. Definitely on purpose. We’d met plenty of times. Had plenty of friends in common. “Why is she even here?”
The rest of us would wait twenty more minutes before finding our own taxis home, racing uptown without traffic, the buzz of the night wearing thin.
But, through the window, Sasha waved goodbye to me, her fingers fluttering like hummingbird wings. By the time I waved back, she was gone.
19 | When It Rains, It PoursSASHA
Though I do not get to hang out at Monster’s Ball with Celeste, we do get to walk two blocks toward home together afterward. The moon is giant, and I can’t stop talking about it. I have always loved the night sky.
I know, because of a clickbait article I read this morning, “What’s in the Stars for You,” it is called the hunter’s moon. Bart insists that it’s following us and, bolstered by the magic of being out after dark, Nettie and Henry are goofy and content enough to play along. The kids skip ahead awash in moonbeams, a xylophone of giggles.
“I can’t believe you got cotton candy duty!” Celeste says. Like she thinks it sucks, but is also alittlefunny.
“I actually am cotton candy now. I have become one with the fluff.”
“And I can’t believe Demon Dad signed up too! What are the odds?”
“Oh, he wasn’t signed up.” I shake my head.
“Wait, what?” She stops walking and faces me, so I stop too.
“No, he just offered to help,” I say, then realize I have precious information. I raise my hands over my head, purse my lips. “Guess who is the infamous cotton candy dad from last year?!”
Celeste’s mouth drops open. “No way! The one who dumped that bin of sugar on that fourth-grade dad? That washim? I can’t believe it!”
“Right? Crazy. I kind of thought he was an urban legend.”
We resume walking. Up ahead, the kids have stopped to waitfor us before they cross the street. I am filled up, and almost choked up, as I watch them, dancing in circles in a luminous spotlight. So pumped to be out at night. Childhood abandon. I love my friend. I love my kids. In many ways, I like my life. If only I could get this job—maybe I could even afford to relax and enjoy it a little more. Maybe there would be room for more.
“That was kind of nice of Demon Dad to help though,” Celeste is saying, as I snap back to attention. “Especially after last year’s debacle.”
“Sort of.” I toggle my head. “I think he was triggered by my ineptitude.”
Celeste raises an eyebrow at me, which I act like I don’t notice. “Maybe,” she says, the contours of her skeptical expression emphasized by shadow. I can’t pretend away the moment when I wanted to jump his bones tonight, but I have already rationalized it nicely: I am starved for attention, sex-deprived. What wouldn’t get my motor running?
“Jesus,” says Celeste. “Why is he so damn familiar to me?”
“I don’t know. He wasn’t to me. And he says we actually met years ago.”
“It’s driving me nuts!”
I shrug. “Maybe he made you a cotton candy last year?”
“I do like cotton candy.” She nods. “That must be it.”
On Sunday morning, when I tell the kids about my upcoming trip, they’re sitting on the floor playing a memory game in which they must pair adorable forest animals. Bart wears only dinosaur underwear (his favorite outfit). Nettie is in a nightgown and, inexplicably, nylon gym shorts. Both have full bedhead.
“Squirrel,” says Nettie, examining the board. “And… ugh! That chipmunk again. Damn you, chipmunk!”
She shakes a fist in the air. Bart cracks up like she’s Sarah Silverman doing a set. He jumps up, arms in the air. “Go away, chippy!”
I sit down on the couch. “Hey, guys, can you pause your game for a sec?” After I ask three more times, they finally stop and look at me expectantly. I am not sure how they’ll react.
