Page 101 of Woman on the Verge

“I’m sorry about your arm,” I say.

She nods, staring at her feet.

“Can you girls just play nicely?”

Grace nods. Liv copies her.

“I don’t want to play,” Grace says.

“Okay, then sit. Enjoy the sunshine.”

They sit.

As the guilt sets in and I wonder if I’ve damaged Grace forever, she says, “Mom, what’s bacteria?”

I sigh. “It’s gross. That’s what it is.”

Liv places her pinkie finger in her ear. So if it wasn’t infected before, it is now.

After the requisite half hour, we go back to the pediatrician’s office. They are not quite ready for us, so the girls make a game of jumping from one floor tile to the next in the waiting room.

Him: I have plans for you this weekend. I can’t wait to see you

It’s not always possible for me to respond to Elijah, so I just watch his messages come in, savoring each of them, composing responses in my head. This mental composition makes me feel like my brain has come alive again. The lights are now on in my frontal lobe.

My maternal intuition was right—Liv does have an ear infection. When I was a new mom, I was impressed with this intuition thing. It seemed like magic the way mothersjust knewthings about their babies. Now I consider it somewhat handy in certain situations and burdensome in others. Why do I have to be the one with the intuition? It would be nice if Kyle had some, if he could help carry the responsibility of knowing things.

We stop at the pharmacy to pick up ear drops that cost $200 and antibiotics that cost $3. I do not understand American health care. I rack my brain for what else I need at the pharmacy, knowing full well that I’ll remember something essential just as we are parking in the garage back home.

I get a pack of overnight diapers for Liv because it’s all I can think of, and we wait in the checkout line, which is more of a gauntlet for parents of young children with its displays of knickknacks and candy.

“Mommy, can we have these?” Grace asks, holding up a pack of Skittles.

“No,” I say.

How many times a day do I say no? A thousand?

As they continue asking me to buy things and I continue to say no, my eye catches a pregnancy test box next to a display of Kleenex tissues. It seems to be staring at me, sitting there by its lonesome. I think of my still-achy boobs. Elijah and I use condoms. There are a couple of times we didn’t, but he pulled out. And besides, it’s not like I’m of fertile age.

I cannot be pregnant. It’s just wacky hormones, the joys of being a woman in her forties.

Butwhat if?

I grab the test and put it under the pack of diapers.Just in case,I tell myself. My period will come any day, and I will feel foolish at the first sight of blood.

Butwhat if?

It is Wednesday, so Liv’s ear infection should be mostly cleared up by tomorrow, meaning I should have no issues driving up north on Friday. I will give Kyle detailed instructions for the ear drops and the antibiotics—both verbally and on a Post-it. I don’t see how any marriage between people who have small children can stay interesting when wives have to leave husbands instructions on Post-its.

When we get home, the girls clamor for Kyle’s attention, which is fine with me because then I can finally respond to Elijah.

What plans do you have for me?

Him: That’s for me to know. If you enjoyed last time, you’ll enjoy this

I’m in a work meeting and you’re making me wet

Him: A work meeting at 5? They need to go easier on my baby

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