Page 12 of Spit Screen

Vicki rolls her eyes.

“I haven’t called you that in a while, have I? Too old for that now?”

“Nah. I’m just glad you didn’t make it my name.”

I nod.

“No way. Did you want to name me Sprout?”

I laugh. “No. Although, I think your grandmother worried I might.”

“She’s silly.”

“She certainly can be,” I agree.

“Mom?”

“Hm?”

“Never mind.”

“No. No. Tell me,” I say.

“Just—if you ever want to move, it’s okay.”

“Vicki? Did something happen at school or?—”

Another roll of Vicki’s eyes precedes her reply. “Geez, Mom.”

“Geez, Mom?”

“School is good,” Vicki says.

“I guess I’m not sure where this is coming from.”

“You and Momma like to work.”

“We work.”

“Yeah, but not like you used to.”

“We didn’t always have three kids,” I remind my daughter.

“Yeah, I know. Auntie Christie still works. Auntie Sarah works, too.”

Sarah is my sister-in-law. She’s a fourth-grade teacher. “That’s all true. I like being here with you.”

“But you like working, too.”

It’s evident to me attempting to placate Vicki with generalities isn’t going to work. She’s also incredibly curious and intelligent. God help me; I never imagined this kind of heart-to-heart talk with my eight-year-old. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “You’re right,” I admit. “And sometimes, I miss going to work in the morning. The thing is, if I was on a set, I would miss you.”

“You’d still be with us, Mom. It just wouldn’t beallday.”

“True. Are you sure this is about me?”

Vicki lifts a brow atme, and I chuckle.

“What’s the story about that Momma wrote?” Vicki asks.

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