Page 24 of Pick-Up
As we shake hands and part ways, I smile big, all happy camper. Inside, my intestines are stomping a line dance. Finding childcare for four days and three nights is no piece of cake. But now that I know this could turn full-time, I am desperate for this job to work out. This would relieve so much financial stress, not to mention save me from having to hustle so hard for freelance stints.
Instead of heading straight home, I meet a high school friend for a drink at a sake bar in the East Village. I’m so nervous about jinxing the gig, I don’t even mention it although I can think of nothing else. Instead, I let her go on and on about whether cheating is still unethical if your spouse is super annoying. (It is. She will do it anyway.)
Then, at around 9:00 p.m., I head home and relieve my parents. I walk in to find them both dozing on the couch, pretending to be watching TV.Classic. They fill me in on Bart’s bowel movements and Nettie’s tween attitude, tell me how spectacular my children are in their unbiased opinion, then climb in a cab and head home.
The kids are already asleep. Quiet settles over the apartment.
Here’s how you know you’ve gotten old: you come home tipsy, dismiss the sitters, binge on the kids’ leftover roasted brussels sprouts and that’s close enough to bliss.
I take this moment alone to check in with myself. And, leaning against my kitchen island, I realize I am excited. Truly. For the first time in a long while. My heart is flipping in my chest. I know I’ll find a way to take this job because it’s essential. For years now, I have been running on empty, moving gig to gig, struggling to make ends meet despite receiving mandated checks from Cliff. Even when I’ve had enough work, there haven’t been enough hours in the day. And this job seems like it might be more interesting than what I’ve gotten to cover in the recent past too—maybe it’s a chance for some actual creativity. Maybe there won’t be cat boas involved!
I definitely haven’t gotten a shot like this since the kids were born; and I also haven’t taken a proper adult trip in years. With other grown-ups. Even the concept of sitting on the plane, alone, without any bathroom emergencies or spilled juice sounds like heaven.
For reasons I can’t explain, I have a sense that maybe things are changing, plates shifting ever so slowly beneath my feet until they lock into place. Is it possible? Dare I dream? Could things be getting easier? I exhale. Maybe I am headed for more stable ground.
14 | Desk JockeyDEMON DAD
I don’t leave my desk from lunch until the end of the day. There are Zooms, emails, plans to be made. Higher-ups to keep happy. I let my staff know not to disturb me. It’s legit. I’m busy—and overextended—as hell. By the end, my eyes hurt and I’m bleary.
And, honestly, that’s just fine. It keeps my mind from drifting to all the wrong corners. It keeps me from facing how I kind oflikethis veritable stranger, who kind of hates me. And not in the way it was with the few rebounds, late nights or false starts I had with other women when the breakup was brand-new.
In a way that is distracting.
So I’ll take the stress.
It keeps me from wondering about her.
TO-DO
Get your shit together.
15 | Orange You Glad?KAITLIN
Celeste is too tall to talk to. Not that she wants to talk to me anyway.
That’s my first thought when she shows up at pick-up today like it’s perfectly natural for her to be here, like it’s not the first timethis whole year.She’s wearing some incredible rust-colored jumpsuit that would make the rest of us look like inmates.
Even I know it’s the color of the season. All the momfluencers I follow are hawking terra-cotta turtlenecks and amber BabyBjörns. But what’s with her and Sasha being all glammed up this week? I roll my eyes. I don’t even care. At least I don’t want to.
It’s Friday, which means I’m hawking PS421 gear at our makeshift kiosk to raise funds for the school’s new media system. I sometimes let other parents handle minutiae like this, but it’s important for me to stay involved. That’s also the only way things get done right—in the only arena I can still control.
It’s not like my time is so precious anyway. Yesterday, I spent forty-five minutes trying to take one decent selfie. Even with all the Facetuning and filters, I can’t hide my haggard state.
Celeste is a few minutes early to pick-up, so she wanders over to check out my wares. I suddenly feel like an idiot standing behind a folding table wearing a school-branded scarf. I pull out and apply my new lip balm. Like that’s going to make the difference.
I am spiraling.
She sorts through the T-shirts and mugs, her fingers long and graceful like a journeying daddy longlegs. I scan her for flaws. High cheekbones. Perfect understated manicure. Large antique diamondring. Not a hair out of place. Golden tan coloring that never dulls. She looks up at me.
That’s when I notice that her eyeliner is smudged on one side. Almost like she’s been crying. Her nose is just slightly pink in an adorable way. Something is up.Interesting.
“Hey, sorry—how much is the pencil case?” she asks.
“It’s twenty dollars. And it comes with cute PS421 pencils and an eraser inside.” I pick one up and unzip it to show her. Like I’m on QVC. Which, lately, I’ve been staying up watching because I don’t sleep.
“Oh, adorable! I don’t even think I knew the school mascot was a chipmunk!”
Shocking that Celeste is not in-the-know.
