Page 51 of The Husband Diet
And while I worked, I thought of the kids and how things were going well lately. I knew their needs, their rhythms, their passions, their insecurities and strong points. I was finally ahead of the game and it felt great. Like I was on top of the world for once.
As I was dicing the mushrooms and scooping them up – whoops, right against my Sex Pistols ‘Anarchy’ T-shirt – the doorbell rang.
‘Stay put,’ I said to Maddy, who had already jumped to her feet from her complicated ballet pose that looked more like a yoga position.
One day, she’d get her long legs all tangled and fall flat on her cute little face, if she took after her mommy.
I dabbed at the brownish stains on my T-shirt as I pulled the door wide open.
‘Hi,’ Julian said, gloriously sexy in a pair of jeans and a Lacoste designer polo the color of the sky.
Did this guy have an image consultant or something? Weren’t men supposed to be color-blind? Forget the grab-me-now smile on his face. Forget the width of his shoulders that seemed to embrace me. Something from inside him leaped out at me and grabbed me by the shoulders, screaming,you may not know it yet, but we were made to roll on soft beds together!
‘Nice T-shirt. Love the Sex Pistols,’ he said, although his eyes weren’t smiling.
And again, the tingle down my spine, dammit. Not to mention the state I was in. I wish he’d called. But I played it cool. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be coaching your little league?’ I asked.
‘I was, but now I’m on my way to the hospital.’
Oh, God. ‘Warren…?’ I squeaked, and he lifted his hands.
‘He’s perfectly alright. But in big trouble. He hit a boy.’
‘Oh my God! Is the boy alright?’
‘He will be. I’ve brought Warren home to save you a trip, but I have to run to the hospital now. I’ll call you later.’
‘Are you sure?’ I asked, backing a step into the house, ready to grab my coat and bag. The story of my life. ‘I’ll just get Maddy and drive to—’
‘No need.’
I searched his face. There was something he wasn’t telling me, and then I knew.
‘The parents are suing, aren’t they?’
Julian sighed. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
My eyes swung to his jeep, where I could see Warren crouched, his enormous eyes fixed on me. He was no doubt terrorized.
‘Let him out,’ I sighed, straightening my shoulders.
Julian gave me a last ‘are you going to be OK’ look. I nodded and he signaled to Warren. Silently, my son slid out and I stepped aside for him without speaking. I was shaking so badly, I was afraid I’d fall apart.
‘Erica?’ Julian whispered, his eyes studying me.
I stood up straighter. ‘I’m fine, Julian, thanks. Just let me know about the boy, please.’
‘Alright,’ he said softly, then with one last glance and a meaningful nod to Warren, he got into his jeep and drove off.
So much for me knowing what my children were feeling. I realized I was clueless, after all, and that no, I wasn’t ahead of the game.Just what the hell is the matter with you?I wanted to scream at him, but held my tongue, because that was exactly how Ira would have reacted.
I only hoped Julian didn’t think Warren had learned this behavior from Ira, because Ira couldn’t lift a finger to swat a fly out of its misery. With words and vicious expressions, he was great in demeaning you, but in no way was Ira a physical person.
‘Maddy, sweetie, why don’t you go and color in your bedroom, honey?’
My eight-year-old daughter slid off her chair again and looked at her brother, making a face likeboy, are you in for it. Which was of course an understatement.
Once alone with him, I sat down at the kitchen table and, my fists supporting my cheeks, I looked at him squarely, unimpressed to say the least.
