Page 8 of Hide and Sneak
“How was your trip?” I ask Maren.
“Good. Cooper’s mom is such a sweetheart. I love visiting her. Did I miss anything here?” She glances at Holly before adding, “Everything okay at the office?”
“All good,” Holly assures her.
“Great, I’ll be in tomorrow to help with some stuff.” A smile bursts across her face. “Cooper and I found a house nearby and we can move immediately. So, I’ll be in to show you the process of renting our trailer to a new tenant.”
I’ve known for a while that Maren would be moving and it’s my goal as well, but a wave of sadness still washes over me. The years we all spent hopping between each other’s trailers is coming to an end.
“I’m so happy for you!” I exclaim, forcing a smile.
The others agree, and she pulls up pictures of the new house to show us. It’s a beautiful place on the opposite side of town. We spend some time admiring the pictures and discussing possible decorating ideas.
My first margarita goes down too easily and Cara grins at me as I pour another. “Hard week at work?”
“Not exactly. Amos moved in yesterday and he brought a friend.”
“It’s not enough you’re giving him a place to stay? He brought a girlfriend?” Maren asks. She and Cara are familiar with the way my brother takes advantage and aren’t big fans of me helping him. Cara, Maren, and I have been friends since we were children. We went to school together and they know exactly who I’m talking about when I announce, “Not a girlfriend. Sutton.”
All eyes are on me. Cara’s glass knocks against the table, spilling a few drips, and she wipes it absently with a napkin as Maren exclaims, “Sutton? Sutton Yates is living at your place?”
“Who is Sutton and why did you say his name like Forrest Gump?” Cooper interrupts, entering the kitchen.
“He was a guy a couple years ahead of us in school,” Maren replies.
Cara chuckles, refilling her glass. “Are we supposed to pretend his name wasn’t written in hearts in all our eighth grade notebooks?”
“He was so mysterious in high school,” Maren adds. “Every girl wanted him but no one knew where he lived or anything about him.”
“I didn’t want him.” At least, not after my brother started getting into trouble with him.
“Is he still hot?” Cara asks. Row walks up behind her chair, tugs her head back gently by her hair and raises an eyebrow at her. She grins up at him. “I’m just curious. I mean, if Lila’s living with him…”
“I’m notliving with him. Not like that. They’re both staying for three months at the most, and I’m not happy about it.”
A truck horn blows, summoning the guys. After they’ve gone, Cara grins at me. “Well, is he still hot or not?”
It pains me to admit it. “Hotter. He has new tattoos and he’s bulked up a lot. But it doesn’t matter. I didn’t like him then and I can’t stand him now. It’s already been a nightmare.”
“Did something happen?” Maren asks, her face pinching with concern.
If you can’t share your embarrassing stories with your friends, then who can you share them with? All of them know about my little side hustle anyway. Smiles grow on their faces while I recount my afternoon, and Cara can’t suppress a giggle, but when I get to the part where Dusty tried to eat my foot, they all burst into laughter.
It only takes a second or two for me to join them. “Then the asshole got in the shower so I couldn’t even wash it off well. I’m never putting any of my body parts in marshmallow again.”
“That’s not a statement I ever thought I’d hear someone say,” Holly snorts.
Monday morning comes around too fast, the way it always does. It’s a shame I feel that way. I used to love my job until the business was sold to a larger chain of daycare providers. Now, it seems like management looks for reasons to hassle the staff or make our job harder. I’ve always said that the kids make it all worth it, but lately, I’m not so sure.
Even though I don’t want kids of my own, I genuinely enjoy being around them. They’re so open and honest and fun. The four year olds in my class are the best and I’m not biased at all. The kids have a good day and the weather cools down enough for them to play outside. Twelve preschoolers can only be corralled in a room for so long before we’re all climbing the walls. I didn’t sleep well last night, and by dismissal time, I’m tired and more than ready to go home.
Our daycare doesn’t provide transportation, and parents filter in to collect their kids. All except one of my students—Freddie. “Mama’s late,” he says, looking up from the picture he was coloring.
“I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” I tell him as I continue putting away toys and straightening up the room. There have been issues in the past with other parents not picking up on time but his mother, Colleen, is never late. She probably got held up at work or had some car trouble or something.
Another thirty minutes passes and the rest of the staff have left except for Mrs. Thomas, the manager. She pokes her head through the door and frowns. “Has his mother called?”
“No, I’ll give her a few more minutes then try her cell.”
