Page 28 of Rebound

I’m still looking online when our cleaner arrives. Vicky stands before me with her feather duster, obviously surprised to find me at home. She really is a great lady. A brunette in her mid-thirties, she always has a smile on her face and a song on her lips despite the challenges that life has thrown at her. “Oh! Mrs. J,” she says. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here, Vicky,” I reply, grinning so she knows I’m joking.

“Oh yeah. I forgot,” she jokes back. “How was your trip?”

“It was really good, thanks for asking. How are things with you and the family?”

She chats away for a few minutes, updating me on the state of affairs in Vicky-land, and I realize that I will miss her. I’m the one who manages coordinating and communicating with the team of people who work for us, and I hope I have been a fair and supportive employer. I very much enjoy the friendly relationships I’ve fostered with everyone. Who knows? As people keep warning me, divorces can turn nasty. I might end up knocking on Vicky or Dionne’s door one night asking for a spot on their couch.

In all seriousness, I really don’t want to stay in this house, and that will eventually mean change for my staff. That gets added to my mental list of things to do—make sure they are treated well. Elijah is a good man who would never knowingly screw a hardworking person over, but it also might not occur to him to think about the housekeeper, the cleaner, or Stuey, the guy who handles general maintenance. I’ll talk to him about it. That and a million other little details need to be ironed out. Huh. Ironing. Another thing I suck at. My life skills are seriously subpar.

“You all right there, Mrs. J?” Vicky asks. “You seem a little… out of whack.”

I have no clue how much she knows. Probably more than I’d imagine. Our staff has access to the intimate details of our lives. The separate bedrooms. The separate meals.

“I’ve been better, truthfully, Vicky, but that’s a story for another day. But I have been thinking about doing some volunteer work. Please sit, will you?”

She nods and takes the chair opposite me. When we do chat, it’s usually while she works. She’s an energetic soul who sees sitting still as a waste of her valuable time. “Don’t you already do enough, Mrs. J? I mean, all those committees you’re on, all those events you organize.”

“I’m thinking of something a bit more… practical. I’d like to meet different people. Get out of my comfort zone. Feel like I’m helping. I want to actuallydosomething, you know?”

She frowns as she turns it over. I probably sound like a lunatic to her. My life must look so perfect, so carefree, with all its wealth and privilege. Even with the separate rooms, she must think I have it made while she zooms around, caring for her kids and working.

“Yeah, must be boring, mixing with those snooty women with the sticks up their butts. You never really seemed like that.”

I have to smile. It’s not the world’s greatest compliment, but I’ll take it.

“What did you have in mind?” she continues. “What are you into?”

“I’m not totally sure, but I’m open to ideas. I used to like ballet and trained in it for years. I enjoy wildlife, as long as it’s not too wild—I love watching the squirrels in the park. I, uh, I suppose I’m pretty interested in people? You know, in their stories?”

“You mean you’re nosy?” she says, giving me a cheeky wink. “In a good way. You listen to me ramble on, Mrs. J, and not all my clients even see me as a human being, so I really appreciate that. What about kids, you like them?”

“Is this the part where I say something like ‘yes, but I couldn’t eat a whole one’?”

She laughs, and I bite my lip as I think it over. I have raised money for children’s charities, but I have avoided spending much time with little ones. To start with, it was simply too hard to be around something I wanted so desperately and couldn’t have. Then, as my contemporaries and college friends started to have their own families, I struggled even more. It’s not something I’m proud of, but seeing them with their big pregnant tummies and then their beautiful babies was too much. I was jealous and resentful. It’s a big part of why I don’t have any genuine friendships these days—there was a natural divide. Their lives became about playdates and preschools and houses in the suburbs. Mine would never be that, and their journey into motherhood took them farther and farther away from me. Our shared experiences shrunk, and I started to find them unbearably smug. They weren’t, I see that now, but it was how I felt.

I nod at Vicky, who is waiting patiently for my response. “Yes. I do like kids.” It’s the truth. I adore them in all their noise and mess and joyous chaos. And maybe I’m ready now. More mature. Able to cope with being around them.

“Well, look, Mrs. J?—”

“Please, call me Amber.”

“Okay, so, Amber… There’s a community center near where we live in Queens that’s always looking for people. Not gonna lie, it’s not your usual type of place.”

“I’m not looking for my usual. Go on,” I say.

“LOJ isn’t the kind of organization that gets a lot of attention, you know? Nobody’s going to be planning fancy dinners to raise money for it any time soon, but it does a lot of good. The neighborhood ain’t the best, but that just means there are more people in need, if you know what I mean.”

I nod, interested. “Did you say LOJ? What does it stand for? And what kind of things do they do?”

“Yeah, it’s the Leslie Odom Jr. Community Center, and they offer a bit of everything. They hold coffee mornings, bingo, art classes, self-defense, coaching for various sports, and they run a community garden. You name it, they do it. A lot of the older folks rely on it for company, and it keeps the kids out of trouble. Some of them, anyway. They do their best. How do you feel about motorcycles?”

It’s an abrupt swerve, but I ride it out. “Never been on one. No plans to. Is that a deal-breaker?”

“Nah, just wanted to mention it because some of the guys who hang out there are bikers. Rough around the edges but good hearts.”

She stops mid-flow and shakes her head. “It… Look, Mrs. J—Amber… Now that I say it all out loud, I’m thinking it’s not the place for you. I don’t think Mr. J would like you being there either.”

---