Page 100 of Backslide
“So,” I say to stop my brain from spinning and my body from overheating. “Hungry?”
“Starving,” he says. “Which is weird since I feel like I just ate all the goat cheese in Sonoma County a couple of minutes ago.”
I scrunch my nose. “True. But, if you think about it, we haven’t had an actual meal all day.”
“True.”
Noah volunteers to play chef and, as he puts a pot of water on the stove to boil, I busy myself with my phone, entering the Wi-Fi password. I haven’t had legit service all day, so I am suddenly flooded—mostly with texts from Cara.
Cara
How’s it going?
Did you get the oysters?
Did you find the place okay?
I just looked at the radar and I think there’s a storm coming.
There’s definitely a storm coming!
Shit. Are you guys okay? Have you drowned? Killed each other? Did I send you both to your deaths?
Ben says it wouldn’t be my fault. But I think he’s just trying to make me feel better. It’s not working.
Please let me know as soon as you get this.
(It’s not because I’m worried about the oysters—although I am a little bit worried about the oysters.)
Sorry—I know I’m freaking out. I haven’t seen my kids in a few days and I think maybe you’re getting the full force of my mama bear energy.
But still. Please text back. Like SOON.
“I think Cara is worried about us.”
“What makes you say that?” Noah turns his phone to face me, revealing a similar barrage of messages from Ben.
“Wait—Ben is having a neurotic meltdown too?”
“She took over his phone.”
“She doesn’t have your number?”
“No, she definitely does.”
Noah returns to cooking, which is sort of funny to watch—he is very determined, his tongue peeking out the side of his mouth as he concentrates on the instructions. I suspect this is what he looks like in surgery. Meanwhile, I text Cara and let her know that we’ll survive but not be back until tomorrow.
Cara
Thank God!
I see the telltale dots appear. Disappear. Then appear again.
I roll my eyes.
Nellie
Yes, Cara. The oysters are fine.
