Page 2 of The Chosen Two

I take in Phoebe’s bright tie dye top and gauzy floral skirt to try to figure out what she’s stolen and hopes to pass off as her own. I assume it’s the earrings. I remember when I bought them…for Jessie.

As does Jessie. “That’s so not true, Phoebs! I went through a flower power stage two years ago, and that’s when I got them. Mom, tell her. You bought them for me.”

Phoebe crosses her arms and juts her hips to one side, indignant. “Okay, but even if that were true, you’re only into black and rage now, so…isn’t it better someone owns them who will actually wear them?”

I remember how happy I had been when Phoebe finally outgrew whining. But now that she’s replaced whining with logical arguments that make saying no hard, I’m not sure which era I prefer.

“Nope. They’re still mine.”

Phoebe throws her arms up in the arm. “Oh my god! Why are you so against letting anything bring me joy? I didn’t wear the stupid sweater you told me I couldn’t borrow!”

“Gee, I dunno.” Jessie pauses with a hand on her chin looking like The Thinker. “Maybe because you’re a thief and liar and I hate you?” her hand drops so both are fists balled at her sides.

“Okay, girls. Enough! Sit. Down.” They do and then: sweet silence. It may be a far cry from the sisterly bonding I secretly wished for them, but it’s still a rung higher on the ladder of parental joy we perpetually climb—only to soon slide down again, like Sisyphus and his damn boulder. Push the rock up; watch it roll down. Push the rock up; watch it roll down.

From across the kitchen table, they glare at one another. I roll my tired eyes as I put a plate down in front of each. I’m shocked no one complains about what I gave them. They must be too annoyed at each other to change their minds from what they asked to eat ten minutes ago. Still, it’s a win for me.

Natalie comes in next. She’s dressed in jeans and a faded T-shirt, but not the cool kind of faded. It’s the, “I’m the third daughter, and all my clothes are at least four years old by the time they get to me,” faded. At one point, the shirt was white, but now it’s kind of gray, and I can’t really make out the kitten and butterflies anymore. She takes her usual post at the end of the table and closest to her sisters, watching over them like a referee. I put her plate of eggs in front of her and kiss the top of her head. She looks up at me and smiles. Her bright eyes are my moment of solace in our crazy as usual morning. I take a deep, clarifying breath.

When Sammy stumbles into his seat at the opposite end of the table, I’m pulled from my moment of zen. He's still rubbing the sleep from his dark brown eyes, and his hair is mussed, which looks adorable, but of course I don’t tell him that. He starts in on his bagel as soon as I give it to him.

While they’re eating, I double check that I signed Phoebe’s art club permission slip for her field trip and stuff it in her folder, drop Natalie’s overdue library novel in her bag, and make sure Sammy’s homework log is checked off.

They’ve all finished breakfast and are finding their shoes when Jake finally makes his appearance.

“Everyone ready to go? Oh, Miranda, can you please make sure to run a load of socks and underwear today so I have enough for my trip tomorrow?” Jake seems to have more and more work trips lately. Either talent managers are in hot demand, or they are competing so fiercely that he has to be everywhere at once to not miss an opportunity. I have a hard time following what exactly he does, so I can’t be certain which situation he’s dealing with right now.

“Yup. Thank you for not waiting until half an hour before you leave for the airport to tell me this time.” My eyes sparkle at him. This is how we flirt now.

He tilts his head and squints his eyes a bit to acknowledge my dig. Then he laughs, grabs the breakfast wrap I made him and gives me a quick thank you kiss, and they all head for the door. Jessie and Phoebe are once again engrossed in their bickering. Natalie gives me a quick hug and “Love you,” and Sammy momentarily melts into my arms before rumbling “I love you” into my belly and running off to join the rest.

And I’m left in the calm after the storm. I ask our digital assistant to play one of the albums that no one but me enjoys, and I begin to clean up the kitchen, as I do every morning, while shaking my head at the monotony our chaos has taken on.

With a cup of coffee in one hand, I check my to-do list for the day: a PTA meeting, groceries, the post office, meeting a friend for lunch…For now, I’m going to enjoy the quiet.

I slowly make my way up the stairs, clutching my coffee and breathing a little heavier by the time I reach the top. I head to my room, with every intention to find some real clothes and begin my own day. But then I spy my empty, beautiful bed. I just need to lay down for five minutes…

As I give in to the mattress’s siren song, I hold the coffee mug to my chest. It’s warmth somehow sends a chill through me. Setting it down on my nightstand, I lie down, close my eyes, and smile. I know one day I’ll miss this brand of insanity.

Chapter 2

Miranda

Anhourandahalf later, I head back downstairs with only twenty-five minutes until my PTA meeting at the elementary school. Oops. It’s okay. I needed that hour-long nap.

The coffee is still hot as I pour myself a second mugful. I can’t help thinking about how this double-walled carafe turned out to be a great Mother’s Day gift from Jake, despite all the pouting I did at the time because he had bought me a kitchen gadget to celebrate me birthing our children. But to him, he selected an accessory for one of my biggest interests. Silly, oblivious husbands not knowing the arbitrary rules we have ingrained in us.

Sadly, I can’t savor this cup as I did my first today. This cup is strictly for survival. I drink it while standing at the sink and staring absentmindedly out the window at our wooded backyard. A neighborhood fox bats around a ball the kids must have left outside, and it pounces on the ball and rolls in the grass like domesticated dogs would. Since I often catch foxes playing with the balls we forget to put away, I’ve come to learn foxes are just as playful as dogs.

I smile until the fox turns its back to me, and I count not one but three fluffy, swishing tails, as fiery and active as licks of flame. I look down at my now empty mug and sniff the remaining drops to determine if my half and half turned and made me hallucinate. When I look back up, the fox is gone.

I shake my head and pour myself a travel mug to take to the meeting because apparently a nap and two cups of coffee is still not enough to keep me from sleepwalking through today.

***

When I arrive at the elementary school, I walk over to the blacktop where a circle of chairs has been set up and wave to my friend Nadia, who is our PTA president. Her long, straight black hair shines in the sun, and her eyes twinkle with their usual kindness as she waves back. Halfway there, a sort of low, chuckling whisper to my left catches my attention. I chance a look and glimpse a red bird zooming away. At least I think it’s a bird. It’s wings are flapping more like a bat, and I don’t think I saw a beak. Shaking my head once again, I gulp down more coffee and then collapse onto the empty chair beside Nadia’s.

“What’s going on?” She furrows her brow and can tell I have something on my mind. But, given she’s always nervous before she has to speak, now’s not the best time to tell her I’m either hallucinating or a three-tailed fox played in my yard this morning. That might distract her a little too much right now.

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