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Nina slammed her car door shut and hurried into the house. Her eyes reflexively scanned the huge portrait of Rodney’s deceased mother hanging above the black table in the foyer, where she dropped her keys. Though Nina had never met the woman, her presence hovered over the home like a lonely spirit in a psychic’s business. “Girls, I’m home.”
“We’re in here,” Candace called back.
Sunlight streamed through the bay windows in the kitchen. They’d added them during the remodel three years earlier, and the kitchen became Nina’s favorite room in the house—one she needed to spend less time in, though, according to her scale.
The girls and Miles sat at the table with their folders, papers, and pencils surrounding them. Candace, perched on a stool at the island, shut her book a little too loudly.
“Sorry about the confusion earlier, Candace.”
Candace huffed and got off the stool. “I have a couple of really big tests coming up. I need to go if you’ll be okay with me leaving early.”
Nina froze. She didn’t know what Candace meant by “be okay.” “Of course I’ll be fine. Sorry again.” Sure, Nina was on disability, barely had a social life, and certainly was no longer one of the moms involved in the girls’ school activities, but she was more than capable of taking care of her daughters.
Candace’s long brown hair fell in her face when she packed her books into her backpack. She must have felt Nina’s eyes on her because she glanced up, pushing aside her hair. Her hazel eyes seemed to soften. “Nina?”
Stop being so sensitive. “Oh. We’ll see you tomorrow. And good luck on your test.”
Laila jumped out of her chair and skipped to Nina, her ponytail styled in her signature puff. “Hi, Mommy.”
Nina kissed her youngest daughter, smoothing the loose strands that sprouted after a long day of playing. “Hi, baby.”
Laila hit her hands to her sides. “Mommy, I’m in kinder-garden now. You can’t call me baby, ’member?”
Nina pressed her hands to her daughter’s round, rich-brown cheeks. “I do remember. Sorry.”
Bree chortled. “You’re still a baby, Laila. And it’s kindergarten,” Bree said emphasizing the ten. “Not a place where you plant flowers.”
“Huh?” Laila’s eyes were wide and confused.
“Stop teasing your sister,” Nina scolded with a playful tug of Bree’s French braid. “You’re barely a year older. How was school, Miles?”
“Good, Auntie Nina.” Miles’s deep-brown face revealed the lack of enthusiasm behind his words.
Nina ruffled Deja’s son’s short curls. “You sure?”
Bree’s gaze lowered to the table.
“What’s wrong with everybody?” Nina asked.
“She’s mad because all the girls in her class but her got invited to Megan’s sleepover party this weekend,” Laila said.
“I’m sorry, Bree,” Nina said. Megan’s mom, Patrice, had been one of the leaders in the “Boycott Nina” Club after her episode. Her heart was heavy, knowing that her illness interfered with her daughter’s life, even if it wasn’t Nina’s fault.
Deja had told Nina about once overhearing Patrice saying to a group of moms, “There are so many awful incidents of moms just losing it and harming their kids. I know I’m not going to take the risk of having my kids around her.” According to Deja, the others had nodded in agreement. She’d failed to mention if she’d come to Nina’s defense, but either way, the kids now shunned Bree at school.
“Never mind Megan. We’ll do something fun this weekend.” Nina would have to muster the courage to talk to Patrice and the moms and assure them she was healthy again. This had to end.
“Who would want to go to Megan’s party anyway? Bo-ring,” Miles chimed in.
“Sam’s still teasing Miles too,” Laila said, quite the source of information, as usual. “He’s the biggest bully in Bree and Miles’s class, and he always steals Miles’s lunch.”
“Now why would he do that?” Nina asked.
“Sam’s allergic to everything, so his parents only pack him organ food,” Laila said.
“It’s organic, Laila,” Nina said. “I’m sorry, Miles. I can talk to your mom about it.”
“Naw. It’s not a big deal. Is Uncle Rod coming soon? I wanted to play Horse with him.” Miles perked up.
“He usually works late, so I’m not sure if he’ll be here before it gets dark.” If she’d had more notice she’d be getting Miles, she would have told her husband. He loved children, felt bad that Miles’s father wasn’t around, and always made sure he spent time with Miles when he could. When he arrived, she’d leave out the part about the email she’d forgotten she’d sent. The last thing she needed was his increased scrutiny.
“I’m hungry. What’s for dinner, Mommy?” Bree asked.
Nina planted her palm on her forehead. Of course. Confusion from the email mix-up made her forget to pick up dinner. Though she’d needed time off work to recover after her breakdown, she now questioned if too much free time dulled her brain. Maybe she needed to go back to work. She opened the fridge and scanned the bare glass shelves. The freezer only contained cold air and months-old frozen meat. She closed the door. “Pizza?”
The girls and Miles erupted into cheers.
Nina grabbed her notebook and scribbled in her to-do list:
2) Get groceries
3) Call Shivani
***
“I HOPE EVERYONE’S HOMEWORK is done if you’re watching TV.”
Nina startled at the sound of her husband’s gruff voice. She opened her eyes and shot to a sitting position on the loveseat, scolding herself for dozing off. Must have been the anti-anxiety pill she’d taken earlier. It was almost eight, and the evening had flown by. The last thing she wanted was Rodney thinking she’d been sleeping all day. She muted their wall-mounted flat-screen television. “Hey, Rod. Yes, homework’s done. There’s pizza on the counter.”
“Pizza? Aren’t we staying away from junk food?” Rodney removed his blazer and draped it over the back of the loveseat, glaring at Nina.
“I didn’t eat any, but there was a mix-up with Candace and me, so it was a last resort.” Nina rose, trying to act alert, though her head felt woozy, as if she’d just been on a roller coaster. “I can heat you a piece.”
Rodney strode to the couch and stood in front of Laila and Bree. At six feet two, he towered over them.
A huge smile was plastered on Laila’s face, and she rubbed her stomach for emphasis. “A yummy mix-up.”
Rodney’s solemn demeanor faded, replaced by amusement. The girls had that effect on him. “Pizza aside, how’s my big girl?” He leaned down and kissed Laila’s cheek.
“See, Mommy? Daddy knows I’m not a baby,” Laila said triumphantly.
“Right.” Nina stretched, trying to shake off the tension settling on her shoulders after Rodney’s reproach.
Rodney kissed Bree on the forehead then turned to Miles, who lounged on the beige shag rug, hands cupped around his chin. “Miles, my man. How’s life these days? You enjoy the pizza too?”
“Hi, Uncle Rod. Yep. It hit the spot.” Miles grinned.
Rodney rubbed Miles’s head with his knuckles. “I hope you’ve been working on your Horse game.”
Rodney focused on Nina. “I’m starving, so I guess I’ll have to get a slice.” He headed toward the kitchen.
Nina sighed and tossed the remote to Bree before following her husband into the kitchen. Rodney had only been home a minute, but Nina had already found a way to rub him the wrong way. Tall, lean, and muscular, Rodney prided himself on being officially middle-aged but had yet to grow a beer belly. She must not have been thinking clearly when she ordered the pizza. “How was your day, Rod?”
“Fine.” He grabbed a slice of vegetarian and popped it in the microwave. “But I hoped to come home to a meal, not some pizza. My momma always used to call pizza diabetes and obesity delivered to your door—and then you had to tip ’em for it.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Sorry again.” Nina pulled out her notebook. She wrote: “NO JUNK FOOD” in large print next to number two on her list. “How’s work?”
“Meh.” He pressed a couple buttons to start the microwave.
“Care to elaborate?” It seemed like they never really talked these days. And quite frankly, she had no idea how things were going with his burgeoning real estate career or his life in general.
“Nope.” He removed the pizza then bit it.
“Okay.” Dejected, Nina started to leave. She’d had two jobs to do: get the kids and get dinner. She’d failed both, so she couldn’t blame Rodney for being irritated.
“Oh, Nina, I need you to make a transfer to our joint account tomorrow. Property taxes are due next week.”
“Will do.” Nina grabbed her notebook and wrote:
“4) Money Transfer.”
Even though she tried to keep up with her calendar, her memory was a sieve these days, which her psychiatrist had said could be caused by the medications.
The doorbell rang. “That should be Deja.” Nina felt silly saying that, since it wouldn’t be anyone else. Though she’d fallen asleep for a bit, exhaustion still blanketed her as she padded through the house. “Hey, there,” Nina said when she opened the door.
Deja looked great as always. With large, deep-set eyes, round lips, a button nose, and flawless skin, Deja could have easily been a model. Tonight, her skin-tight skirt and bust-baring shirt were unlike any business attire Nina owned. When Nina used to work late, she always ended up a hot mess. Not so for Deja, with her perfectly applied makeup.
“Hey, sorry I’m here so late.” Deja gave Nina a quick hug. “Hope it wasn’t too much to keep Miles.”
Nina couldn’t believe Deja even smelled good, like the floral perfume she always wore. Nina couldn’t remember the last time she’d even sprayed perfume. “You’re not late at all, and Miles is no problem.” Nina was actually glad she could be useful and enjoyed keeping Miles, especially since all the other parents acted like she should be quarantined in a padded crazy room. “Come in. I’ll call Miles.”
Rodney smiled at Deja. “Hey, there. Long time no see.”
Deja frowned, looked at Nina, then seemed to force a chuckle. “Hey, Rodney. I know, I know. I’m always bugging your wife to watch my son.”
“It’s okay. We have him doing child labor in the back of the house when you’re not around,” Rodney said. “Want to sit down?”
“No, I should be getting Miles home.” Deja faced Nina.
“Right. I’ll get him now.” Nina strolled to the living room. Something seemed off with Deja, but she was probably tired after working late. “Miles, Mom’s here.”
Miles grabbed his backpack and said, “Bye,” to the girls. At the front door, he gave Rodney a long hug. “Night, Uncle Rod. I owe you a butt whooping. Horse style.”
Rodney laughed. “In your dreams, kid. Have a good night. I’ll try to come home early next time you come over. Bye, Deja.”
Deja barely replied and headed to her car.
“Bye, Deja,” Nina called.
Deja turned. “Oh. Night, girl. Thanks, again.”
“Any time.” Nina meant it. She’d do anything for her friend.