Page 87 of Give & Take

With Raph, even the most innocent touch has my breath catching. He’ll rest his hands on my shoulders at the kitchen island when he comes in in the morning, telling a brand new joke to my kids and softly pressing his thumbs into my aching muscles, and I feel every nervecome alive. It’s like when he touches me, every cell bursts into being like it was created just that day.

I mean, maybe it was. I don’t know how cells work.

I pause in my pacing. Is this menopause? No, I’m too young. Perimenopause. That comes with these weird hormones, right?

I need to get a hold of myself. I start to pick up kid detritus on the back deck. Cups and crayons and abandoned toys. That’s sufficiently unexciting that my mind eventually calms down.

Twenty minutes later, the girls burst outside, already in their bathing suits.

“All done!” Nova says, like she’s endured a great hardship and needs a high five. I feel a little guilty—Mike’s her dad after all.

“You girls have sunscreen on?” I ask.

“Yes!” Aurora shouts, holding out her arms like I can see it. “Nova helped me an’ I helped her!”

Raph’s taught them how to help each other, leaving me with one less task I used to do off my hands.

As my littlest squirms out of my grasp I ask, “You’re not hungry? Thirsty?”

“Mom, hello!” Nova says, running for the slide. “We’re still stuffed from breakfast, obviously.” She sounds so much like the teenager she’ll be in a few years I can only smile at the little touch of sass.

”Okay, fine. You know where I am.”

As much as Gas-patch annoys me, I have to admit it’s been great for keeping the kids occupied. They haven’t gotten bored of it yet.

Before I retreat inside, I allow myself a glance uptoward Raph’s suite. The last moment we had together was him thinking he’d done something bad by watching me pull on a t-shirt.

I want so badly to get a glimpse of him. It’s like I need a fix. It’s pathetic, really. If I could slap myself, I would.

But all I can see from here is a sliver of a window. He’s probably not even home.

I tell myself I’m a grown woman and not a lovesick schoolgirl.

Then I head back into the house and settle myself at the kitchen island.

I’ve only just opened my laptop when I hear Aurora crying.

“Mom!” she calls. “There’s something wrong with Gas-patch!”

I hate that my first thought isn’t a charitable one. It’s a groan at having to get up again, and the thought,Finally, I have an excuse to get rid of it.

When I come out, I can see there’s definitely something wrong. The far side of the small inflatable beast is folding in on itself.

“It’s leaking!” Nova says. She runs over in the direction of one of the turrets, which is now looking remarkably like a very sad car dealership floaty guy bent at the waist. Puking, maybe.

Past me would have very badly wanted to put Mike and his ass-patch back on the video chat just to sayI told you this was a bad idea!

But any last bit of pettiness deflates just like the castle as I see Aurora’s face crumple into tears.

“Ohsweetie,” I say. “Hang on, I’ll see if I can figure out what the problem is.”

Except the moment I step off the deck onto the wet grass, I hear a strange noise.

It’s kind of a croaking sound. A rasp.

What is that?

The croaking grows louder. “Mom!”

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