Hugo wouldn’t get out of school until right at noon. I’d known that for more than a week. I’d written it on my calendar so I wouldn’t forget. I had even turned my watch around backward for a reminder. Still, I feared that I’d forget somehow to meet him in the schoolyard.
Because of that, I left the bakery the moment Marvel came to relieve me and ended up at the school with plenty of time to spare.
I was thankful for the bench under an old oak tree.
Just a few minutes after I sat down, a younger woman asked if she could join me.
“Of course,” I said, inching over to one side.
“Thank you.” She exhaled when she sat. “I guess I got here a little early.”
“At least the rain hasn’t started yet,” I said, peeking out from under the overhang of leaves to see patches of blue sky among the gray clouds. “Do you have a kindergartener?”
She nodded. “Sally. She’s my oldest.”
“Four.” She shook her head. “And another on the way.”
“I never would have known,” I said, looking at her as-of-yet flat stomach. “You aren’t even showing.”
“Thank you.” She touched her middle absentmindedly. Then she pulled a cigarette from her purse, lighting it and inhaling deeply. “You have a kindergartener too?”
“It’s my nephew,” I answered, nodding toward the building. “Hugo.”
“What an interesting name.” She bit at her lip, holding the cigarette close to her face. “Are your children all grown up?”
“Well.” I crossed my ankles, suddenly feeling quite elderly. “No. I don’t have children of my own.”
I saw her glance at my left ring finger where I still wore my wedding band and felt the urge to assure her that I was not a spinster. A widow, yes. But that was an entirely different story. One I didn’t quite feel up to telling.
“Oh,” she said. “It’s nice of you to help your sister. My mother is home with my other three.”
Trying not to be too obvious, I checked my watch. We still had ten minutes until the children were dismissed. A painfully long amount of time to sit and not know what to say to the woman.
Somehow, the time did pass and the bell rang. Holding the seat of the bench, I forced myself not to get up just yet, as much as I wanted to run to the school to find my boy. It seemed the woman beside me did the same thing.
“I’ve never been so nervous in all my life,” she said. “Is it silly that I missed her?”
“It’s not silly at all,” I answered.
When I spotted Hugo, walking slowly from the building with his little jacket folded neatly over his arm, my heart skipped a beat.
There he was, whole and looking fine.
Beside him was a little girl with pretty blonde hair pulled back into a red ribbon. The two of them giggled at something, keeping pace with each other as they made their way down the steps.
The woman beside me stood quickly, rushing over to the girl with the red ribbon, taking her by the hand and pulling her from Hugo’s side. The little girl looked over her shoulder.
“But, Mama,” the little girl said, her voice tiny and sweet. “He’s my new friend.”
I stood as they came near, watching them and not understanding.
“Do you know what your daddy would say if he saw you playing with someone like him?” the young woman said. “We don’t mix. You know that.”
“But Hugo’s nice,” the little girl said.
“That may be, but white and black don’t go together.”
The woman stopped, not too far from where I stood, and looked directly at me, her mouth agape. Red rose in her face and she worked her mouth as if there was something she was thinking of saying.
“What an awful thing to teach a child,” I said. Keeping my spine straight, I held my head up.
I braced myself, ready for something ugly to come out of her mouth, thinking plenty of things I could have said as well.
Instead, she broke eye contact with me and pulled the little girl away.
Turning toward Hugo, I tried my very hardest to cover my anger with a smile. I hoped to keep my hand from shaking when I extended it for him to take.
“Did you have a nice day?” I asked, hoping he didn’t hear how my voice quavered.
“Why’d she say that?” Hugo looked up at me, his eyes round.
“I don’t know.” I shook my head.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see the girl with the red ribbon walking away, holding the hand of her mother.