Page 46 of Waiting for Gilbert

She giggles in response.

“Boys?” I spear the twins squished on either side of me with an inquisitive stare. “You’re walking along the street and see free gum. What do you do?”

“Eat it!” Now they’re just messing with Aunt Cordy. They can’t stop laughing at my extreme faces of horror.

Lauren glares over her shoulder from the end of the wrap-around couch.“Shh. You’re ruining the show.”

“Sorry.” I nudge the twins. “You’re getting us in trouble.” We’re very good and quiet for another twenty minutes until Diana walks in with a laundry basket on her hip and a phone to her ear.

“Everyone say hi to Grandma.” She pauses the movie while the kids yell unintelligible greetings toward the phone. “Cordy says hi too. Yeah, she’s good.” Diana stares through me. “I’ll tell her. Love you, Mom. Got to go.” After shoving the phone in her back pocket she gestures to the kids. “Bedtime! We’ll finish the rest tomorrow.”

The boys start to fuss until I clamp my hands on their knees. One more squeak and they know I’ll enact judgment. “Yes, Mom.” I remind them. “Come on, the first one to bed gets a penny. Ready, go!”

They scramble across the living room, shoving and pushing each other. Lance falls on the speckled cream-colored carpet and latches onto Leo’s foot, then they’re both crawling into the hallway like baboons.

Now that the roads are mostly plowed and nobody’s throwing up, I intend to be here most evenings. Working from home has its perks, but I was not born to spend endless hours by myself. I plan to be such a constant in these kids’ lives that they’ll wonder what I’m doing when I’m not here.

Diana scoops Lisa from my lap. “Five minutes, and then you’re showing me the dates you’ve set up.”

I squint and tilt my head like I don’t understand her perfectly clear command. “Dates? We’re all going to Aunt Jewels’ tomorrow… She hosts on Thursdays, right? Hmm… and my project is due on the twenty-second. Those dates?”

Diana ogles as if I’ve forgotten to put on a shirt. “Your app thing.” She waves at my waist. I assume she’s motioning to where she thinks my phone is tucked in my pocket.

“The app thing?” I prop my chin on my fist because I am a philosopher working to decipher her odd request. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

She squeezes the white laundry basket against her hip until the plastic bends. “Putting yourself out there again? Finding boys to take you on dates like some kind of desperate woman?”

Okay. Tell me how you really feel, Diana. “I haven’t been on any dates since Shaun.” I screw up my face in confusion. It’s dramatic, but I think she’s still buying it.

Lisa burrows into Diana’s neck and the basket of socks and rags dumps on the couch. Diana waves her free hand in a circle around her ear. The wheels are turning. She’s almost got it. “You know. The—” She lets out an exasperated sigh. “I can’tthinkanymore. My brain turns to mush when I need it to produce the proper name of anything.”

“Mom brain.” I hum sympathetically. “Sounds terrible. Maybe you should go to bed and forget about it for tonight.”

“But youknowwhat I’m talking about.”

I shake my head, eyebrows raised. She’ll never crack me. I offer her popcorn, but she scowls.

Hermom brainisn’t inhibiting themom stareI’m receiving at the moment. “Five minutes.” She points. “Don’t go anywhere.”

Over her shoulder she shoots out one more command. “And no more bribes. You owe all of my kids a penny.”

At the kitchen table I open my laptop and login to my profile on the Friendly Fish dating site. There are three new messages since this morning. One from a David K.

David: Hi, CJ! Your job sounds incredibly fulfilling. I’m interested in getting to know you better. Check out my profile.

I click his name.

Well, well, well. David K. Dark, thick hair artfully swooped out of his handsome eyes. Strong nose and kind smile. Navy sweater with a white line around the V-neck, hands casually tucked in his jean pockets. His profile reads, “Doing > Dawdling. Motion > Meddling. Coffee > Tea. Sleep > Scrolling.”

Well, nothing as fascinating as “goat wrangler from the alps” or “flight instructor from Hawaii,” but since he started the conversation, I’ll chat. I answer with a simple “Hi” and he pings back almost immediately. He’s pleasant, if a bit stiff. Our conversation moves along because I ask him questions about his line of work. Most men love to talk about that. He’s a home inspector in Omaha. Good money, flexible hours. Gets to carry a tablet around everywhere he goes.

Cordelia: Wow. That must make you feel really important.

David: Why’s that?

Cordelia: Oh, nvm. Just a joke on how those in management positions seem to always be walking around with tablets. Like the old clipboard cliche. Isn’t that a thing anymore?

David: Gotcha. Haha. Yea, I guess. That’s me, Clipboard Guy.

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