Page 28 of Pick-Up
“I couldn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that.”
“But what about…?”
“What?”
“How annoying it will be to have two extra kids around?”
“Henry will be thrilled.” She shrugged. “And it’s only four days. During which they have school. Cumulatively, it’s not even very many waking hours.”
“Celeste.” I gazed up at her glowing face. I was tempted to ask her what serum she’s been using, but this didn’t seem like the time. “I can’t thank you enough. Are you sure? You can still back out. I won’t hold it against you.”
“Positive,” she said, smiling. “I will not be a party to you missing out on this opportunity. Also, your ex-husband really blows.”
“It’s true. He does. Speaking of which, do you need to discuss with your husband? Before you sign up for this?”
“Jamie?”
“That’s the guy. Big. Burly. Loves to make his own ice cream. Inexplicably sometimes in gross flavors like banana.”
She exhaled. “Nah.”
I thought I read something complicated in her expression, but I couldn’t say what.
“He seemed a little out of sorts when I saw him last,” I tried. “Is something up with him?”
“A bit. Maybe a change of pace will help.” She gazed into the middle distance for a beat, then seemed to return to her body. “Anyway, I’m happy to help, if and only if, you address some essential questions.”
“Of course!”
“First, any more combative arguments with Demon Dad?”
I laughed, taken aback. Why did I feel caught? Like she could see inside my head, where he’d been making uninvited appearances lately?
“I thought you meant questions about my kids.”
Celeste shook her head. “Them? Nah. That’s not interesting. Plus, I already know all about them.”
More parents had begun to arrive for pick-up, lining the curb in staggered formation. They glanced down at their phones, up at the exits, around for other parents they knew. Younger siblings munched snacks in strollers or practiced balancing along the fenced edges of tree pits surrounding microgardens. The truth is, lately, maybe I had found myself looking alittlemore closely than usual at the crowds for signs of Ethan. I don’t know why. Probably just basic curiosity. I had caught sight of him a couple of times after drop-off since our park run-in (no pun intended, but no apologies either). We only nodded politely.
I noticed that he never did pick-up, but that wasn’t surprising. (More annoying was that I took the time to notice.) Since preschool days, it had become clear to me that—in heterosexual two-parent families—most often the men did drop-off before it could disrupt their workdays and made pick-up the purview of their wives, the primary caregivers. It was the women who stopped work early to make snacks and play games. Why should Ethan be any different? Cliff never even did drop-off.
Why was I even wasting time thinking about this dude?
“I’ve seen him around little,” I said. “But he hasn’t stolen any outerwear from me lately. How come?”
“Just looking for some intrigue.” She surveyed the crowd, scrunching her nose. “Everyone here is so well-behaved.”
“Ah. Sadly, intrigue-free.” That was technically true. “What’s question number two?”
Celeste looked right, then left, then stepped in closer to me, lowering her voice. “See the woman selling the school paraphernalia over there? The blond one with the coppery lowlights and the peacoat?”
I scratched my head, pretending to glance unseeing over my shoulder. So nonchalant. An expert spy maneuver. Then I realized who she was referencing and grimaced. “Oh, you mean Kaitlin?”
