Page 9 of For The Weekend
“Yeah, it’s, like…” He pauses, scratching at his head before he bends over, fists out, visibly frustrated he doesn’t know the answer. Micahneedsto know things and gets upset when he doesn’t.
Sloane slings the backpack over her shoulder. “I’ll Google it later, okay?”
“When we’re in the car,” Micah tells her. “You have to Google it when we’re in the car—is water an ecosystem?”
I curl my hand around his head, tugging him close for a tight embrace. He’s like me and enjoys firm hugs, helps him to calm down. We’re both neurodiverse, so I feel for the kid. And for Sloane.
He was only diagnosed with autism and ADHD last year, and it threw her for a loop. No matter how well he’s doing or how much he’s benefiting from the help he’s now receiving, it’s been hard on her.
I bend to kiss the top of Micah’s head. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out the answer. Just not right now.”
He nods and wraps his arms around my waist for a squeeze.
When Livie hooks on to Sloane like a barnacle, she asks her daughter, “Did you tell Aunt Ellie about school?”
Livie shakes her head.
“What happened?”
Micah answers instead. “She didn’t cry yesterday.”
I hold my hand out for a high five from Livie. “Nice job! Proudof you.”
She’s really attached to Sloane and painfully shy around new people, so the start of kindergarten has not gone well. Sloane called me in tears the first day.
And I think I could count the number of times I’ve witnessed her cry on one hand, so I knew she was going through it this last week. It’s why I was happy to give her some alone time today.
“All right, we better get going,” Sloane says, and I hug both kids one last time before Sloane herds them out the door. “Thanks, Ellie.”
“See ya, Sloanie.”
With my apartment empty once again, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do, and I zone out for a few moments until I spot the bottle of polish I picked out earlier this morning to paint my toenails. I sit on the floor, carefully coating them neon pink as I listen to Chappell Roan on repeat and think about the upcoming wedding.
Allowing myself to really sink into the dread.
It’s a no-win situation for me if I go or if I suddenly come down with a Victorian wasting disease.
Because Lily is my only girl cousin, and I’m “supposed” to be in her wedding. That’s what “family does,” and I always try to do what I’m supposed to because being the family fuckup is tiring.
When I finish with my nails, I let them dry while scrolling social media.
Better than dwelling on the fact that I don’t have a date to the most important family event since my grandmother’s funeral.
I didn’t have a date to that, and people told me how sorry they were I didn’t have anyone to help me through thedifficult time.
I wonder what they’ll say about me atmyfuneral when I don’t have a date to that either.
“She died of a wasting disease, surrounded by her cats, enjoying the fruits of her spinsterhood by taking up crocheting and watchingGrace and Frankieon repeat.”
I should be so lucky.
Chapter 4
Roman
West Chester is a college town, close enough to Philadelphia to be considered a suburb, with the feel of a small town. And it never seems as small as when you’re the talk of the town.
In the week since we’ve unpacked, Mazie has started first grade, and I have sort of begun fixing up the house that had fallen into disrepair in the last decade, but I don’t have much time, with getting everything up and running at my shop. I’ve loved cars my entire life, a passion I inherited from Ian. He practically raised me, and I was at his side while he restored a number of cars. It was a skill I picked back up after dropping out of college, but I was never able to hold down a job long enough to make a real living from it until about seven years ago.
