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THURSDAY
“Nina.” Rodney shook her arm.
Nina opened her eyes. “Rod? What time is it?”
“One in the morning.”
Nina shut her eyes. “Why are you up so late?”
“After Deja left, I caught up on some late-night television and...”
Nina reopened her eyes, trying to focus on her husband through the cloud of sleep. “What’s up?”
“I hoped we could... you know.” Rodney lifted his shoulder in a shrug.
Oh, right. Birthday sex. She leaned toward him, and her hand ventured under the covers, slipping over his stomach before travelling further down. If she tried hard enough, maybe she could get in the mood. Their marriage needed it.
“Whoa.” Rodney grabbed her hand. “What are you doing?”
Nina retracted it. “I thought you wanted to, you know...”
“I meant if we could talk about our financial situation.”
Nina sucked in her breath and returned to her spot. Of course. She wasn’t exactly disappointed he didn’t want sex, but if he thought she would discuss money in the middle of the night, he was seriously wrong.
“It’s just that the real money is in flipping houses these days,” he continued. “If I could start buying property, fixing it up, and then selling, I might actually be able to sustain some change in my pocket.”
Nina huffed, turning her back him. “I’m tired, Rod.”
“I am too, dammit,” he yelled. “Why do I have to beg my wife for money? What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, right?”
Nina climbed out of bed and grabbed her pillow. “You’d have to actually have something in order to share it with me first.” She stormed out of the room.
Nina’s trembling fingertips traced the wall down the pitch-black hall. She’d never been cruel to him before. She doubted her anger was all about the money either. After walking in on him nearly groping Deja in the kitchen, she’d had a sick feeling in her stomach she couldn’t get rid of. The chances of something going on between the two of them seemed pretty slim, but they’d initially developed a friendship while she was out of the picture, and Nina wondered if it was strictly platonic. She opened the linen closet and grabbed a blanket, her heart thudding in her chest. In the living room, she sank onto the couch. Regardless of the reason for her anger, she quickly regretted speaking to Rodney that way. She feared the repercussions.
***
“WHAT’S GOING ON, MOMMY?”
Nina opened her eyes. Bree stood over her, arms crossed, confusion on her face. Laila stood next to her, eyebrows arched in a question. Nina raised herself to an upright position and rubbed a knot that had formed in her neck. She tossed the blanket to the side of the couch, grabbing her phone from the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re going to be late for school,” Bree said.
“Why are you on the couch?” Laila added.
“Where’s Daddy?” Nina glimpsed the time on her phone—only seven thirty. Her body wanted to shut back down for a couple of hours.
Bree shrugged. “Not here.”
“Of course,” Nina muttered. Rodney was so immature. He always dropped the girls at school in the morning. Not only had he decided not to, but he’d also purposefully not woken her up, knowing she wouldn’t hear the alarm clock from the couch. But that was how he acted when he couldn’t get his way. Sometimes, she didn’t know what was worse: putting up with Rodney when he acted like this or the loneliness she had felt when she’d been separated from him and her daughters after her breakdown.
Facing the morning crew at the school would have come eventually. So today would be the day. She had to appear put-together, though, so she’d have to actually make an effort this morning. “Girls, hurry up and get dressed. We’ll grab donuts on the way to school.” Nina rotated her shoulders.
“Donuts?” Bree asked. “Daddy says they have a lot of sugar.”
“For one, people ate lots of donuts when I grew up. And two, Daddy doesn’t have to know. And three, don’t repeat number one or two,” Nina said.
“Yay, donuts!” Laila said as she and her sister ran out of the living room.
Rotating her head as she walked through the house, Nina regretted her decision to sleep on the couch. Unfortunately, she hadn’t had a desirable second option.
Nina slipped on a pair of blue jeans, a cream blouse, and a cream cardigan. In the bathroom, she applied mascara over her eyelashes and gloss on her lips. She brushed her hair into a ponytail, the curls splaying for freedom in every direction. Upon a second glance, she looked decent. Normal even.
Satisfied, Nina ventured to the kitchen. She’d barely slept, and her brain craved caffeine, but she didn’t have time to make coffee and would have to grab a cup at the donut shop. After taking her medication, she dropped her anti-anxiety pills into her purse. Just in case. Neither the school trip nor the conversation she needed to have with Rodney later would be easy.
***
NINA CLUTCHED HER PURSE, walking Bree and Laila to their classes then giving them each a quick hug. The donut shop’s line had been long, so the girls were later than she’d expected. Maybe the nosey secretary, Ms. Jones, would be miraculously missing. Though the only consequence for them was a tardy on their report cards, school policy dictated that parents had to take responsibility for their child’s tardiness by signing them in. She walked down the hall then opened the door to the school office, cursing under her breath at the sight of Ms. Jones with her silver hair neatly tied in a bun. She leaned over the counter, engaged in conversation with Patrice, of all people. Patrice could have stepped out of a Good Housekeeping magazine: stylish but conservative, thin but fit—and sane. Maybe they wouldn’t notice.
“Why, Mrs. Taylor. How are you?” Ms. Jones projected her voice in a way that caused everyone in the office to focus on Nina.
Patrice turned around. “Oh, Nina. What are you doing here? Everything all right?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Nina said to both women, her voice coming out unnaturally high. “I’m just dropping the girls off.”
Ms. Jones held out a clipboard. “Here’s the late sheet. Go ahead and sign in. You remember school policy, right?”
Sure, she’d been more forgetful lately, but of course she remembered the school policy. She’d had mental health problems, not amnesia. She stepped up to the counter, next to Patrice and tried to steady her trembling hand to sign the late sheet. The two women’s eyes focused on her, and she grew hot.
“How’s your health these days?” Ms. Jones asked.
“It’s good.” Nina didn’t take her eyes off the sheet. The overheated and stuffy office didn’t help. Sweat formed on her forehead.
Ms. Jones leaned forward as if telling a secret. “No problems then?”
Nina dropped the pen. “Nope. No problems at all. But thanks for asking. I gotta go.”
“Oh.” Ms. Jones’s eyes seemed to grow dark and menacing. “Are you working again?”
“They let you go back?” Patrice asked.
Nina tried not to focus on the shock in Patrice’s blue eyes. In that moment, she would have given anything for Shivani to have agreed to her returning to work. “Not exactly.”
“Oh, I didn’t think so,” Patrice said. “No offense. It’s just...”
The walls closed in around Nina. Her head felt light, as if it could float away from her. “I should go—”
“We sure could use another volunteer around here if you’re not working. The Christmas committee is planning the annual auction,” Ms. Jones said.
Outraged at the suggestion, Patrice said, “You’re probably not up for that. Right, Nina?”
Working on a committee might actually do Nina some good. But Patrice definitely didn’t want her around. “Not sure, but I’ll keep that in mind.” Nina needed air. She crossed the room and pushed open the door.
“Nina?” Patrice called after her. “If you ever need anything, let us know. We’re all here for you. We’re a tight community, and we’re all in this together.” A disingenuous smile lined Patrice’s face.
Nina’s heart pounded in her ears. She forced her lips to turn up.
“Haven’t seen you since, well, you know, and I hope there are no harsh feelings,” Ms. Jones added.
“None... at all.” Nina labored to breathe.
“I only did what anyone in my position would do. I get paid to look out for everyone’s safety,” Ms. Jones continued.
Desperate for air, Nina insisted, “I really have to—”
“Yes. Get some rest. Good seeing you. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem well.” Ms. Jones’s eyes seemed to narrow and grow beady like a crow’s.
Nina had to turn away. She mouthed yes, but no words would come out.
“Nina?” Patrice said.
Nina pushed the door open. Cool morning air hit her fast. She jogged to her car, opened the door, and sank into her seat. Her heart fought to steady. “You’re fine.” Nina tried to reassure herself. But what if she wasn’t? “I’m fine!”
Nina’s voice must have been louder than she expected because a parent in the next car shot her a glance. Hands shaking, Nina reached into her purse for the pill bottle. She forced two pills down her dry throat—one more than usual. Shifting the car into gear, she sped out of the parking lot.
She avoided the morning staff for that exact reason. Unlike Ms. Medina, who had only been working at the school this year, Ms. Jones was very cognizant of Nina’s breakdown. Rodney had gone to the school at the time of her episode and had a meeting with the principal and Ms. Jones to alert the staff that Nina was not allowed to pick up the girls due to her mental condition.
Forgoing her duty as a respectable professional, Ms. Jones had casually mentioned the confidential information to Patrice, who, in turn, had spread the news like wildfire. Of course, Patrice had justified it by saying that all the parents should be alerted in case Nina showed up. She wouldn’t want anyone not to know.
But inadvertently, no one had told Nina. So when she’d stopped by the school one morning a few weeks after being released from the hospital, Ms. Jones had called the police. She’d never been so humiliated than when the police had shown up at school—sirens blaring—confronted her, and escorted her off the school’s campus.
Sure, this year Rodney and the school cleared Nina to pick them up, but the shame lingered. She didn’t think she’d ever be capable of hurting her children, and she couldn’t get over the fact that she’d gotten to a point where people felt they needed protection from her.
Her phone rang. Rodney’s number. She planned to silence it but then answered it. She had to confront her husband. “How dare you put me through that, Rodney!”
“Whoa, calm down.”
“You know I can’t stand those women.” Tears formed in Nina’s eyes. “Why are you calling?”
“Ms. Jones just called, worried because you seemed off.”
“I’m fine!” Nina screamed.
“Calm down. I’m only worried.”
“Worried?” She couldn’t believe Rodney had the nerve to act concerned. “You set this whole thing up. You purposefully didn’t take the kids to school because you were mad at me.”
“How could you say that? I asked you last week to take them today, and you wrote that down.”
That actually sounded vaguely familiar. Nina swerved to the side of the road and parked. She grabbed her day planner to confirm she was not going crazy. TAKE GIRLS TO SCHOOL was scribbled on today’s date. Nina dropped the planner in disbelief she’d accused her husband of something he hadn’t done. It made her question the kitchen scene the night before. She probably got upset and made something out of nothing there, too.
“Nina? Nina?”
“I gotta go, Rod.”
“Nina, you’re worrying me.”
She hung up. Her hands covered her face while she sobbed. She had to get it together. She didn’t know if she could fully recover and put the past behind her. She was glad she had made the appointment with her psychiatrist. Whether she needed more medication or something else, Nina would do anything to hold onto her sanity.