Thought I Knew You(21)

I nodded, unable to answer. I held Hannah in one arm and Leah in the other, and gave Mom a kiss on the cheek. Thank you, I mouthed, quietly buckling them in the car. I drove into the setting sun, to the home that didn’t feel like a home anymore.





Chapter 11



When I picked Hannah up from school on Friday, her teacher pulled me aside. She had a long blond ponytail and wore jeans that hung too low on her hips for a preschool teacher. I had seen more than one dad ogle her during pick up, and I remember thinking, Not Greg, thank God. What a joke that had become. I motioned to another teacher in the school-age room, and she took Hannah’s hand, guiding her gently into the neighboring classroom.

“Mrs. Barnes, I wanted to tell you, today we interviewed the children. You know, what are your mommy’s and daddy’s names? Your favorite food, your favorite toy, and so on. When we asked Hannah what her daddy did for a living, she said he was lost and that he took her dog with him.” She paused then, looking at the ceiling, not knowing where to go. “I think, um… maybe you should talk to her about her dad?”

I clenched my fists at my sides and concentrated on not slapping her. “Miss Katie, what do you suggest I tell her? Besides the truth? That yes, her daddy is missing. I’m wondering what you, not being a mother, not having any life experience whatsoever, would tell your four-year-old. That her daddy left her? That’s possible. That he’s been murdered? That’s possible. Please. Advise me. I’d love to know what they’re teaching in the community college early childhood education classes these days about how to appropriately make a fucking four-year-old understand that her daddy might not be coming home, but maybe he will. Who the hell knows?”

I grabbed Hannah, who stood wide-eyed in the doorway, and left Miss Katie gaping with her mouth open. I could see the tears shimmering in her eyes and a very, very small part of me felt completely terrible. But most of me felt fantastic.



“Mommy,” Hannah said, “you said a really bad word.”

I sighed. I seemed to fail miserably at keeping the poor kid from being terrified at every turn. I kissed her head. “Yes, I did, Hannah-banana, and it wasn’t nice.” I gave her a big smile. “It’s our secret, okay? So, what do you want for dinner? Anything you want. Ice cream? Pizza? You pick, aaaaannnnnyyyy dinner you want,” I sing-songed.

Hannah thought for a second. “Can I have broccoli?”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “Sure. You can definitely have broccoli if that’s what you want. You’re so weird, kiddo!”

When we got home, the four of us had dinner, a playact of a suburban family. Drew asked Hannah about school. Leah threw food, and Hannah scolded her. We watched The Little Mermaid, which Drew kept pretending he’d never seen, dramatically exclaiming over every scene, extracting giggles galore from Hannah. I gave the girls a bath and tucked them into bed. Low chords of sleep music drifted from their bedrooms, overlapping in a disorganized orchestra, the eerie result being both dissonant and harmonious at the same time.

Drew and I sat in the living room on opposite ends of the couch. I curled my feet underneath me and rested my head on the back of the sofa, feeling flattened by the day, the past few weeks. Drew laughed, coughing into his glass of wine when I relayed the preschool incident.

“I have no control over my mouth anymore,” I said. “I feel horrible, that poor girl.”

“That poor girl was a bit insensitive.” He shrugged. “But then, isn’t everyone at that age? Hmm, on second thought, how cute did you say she was?”

I hit him with a pillow. “Not funny.”

“Look, seriously. I think genuinely kind-hearted people will forgive your occasional outbursts and overlook any inappropriate behavior for the moment.”

I put my head in my hands. I felt tears pricking my eyelids. “This is how it is now. I’m laughing and normal, then I’m swearing and yelling, then I’m crying. I have the emotional range and self-control of Leah.”



Drew reached over and put his hand on my back.

The wine made my head spin. “I really don’t know what we’d be doing without you, Drew.”

When I lifted my head, his face was inches from mine. His blue eyes, framed in dark lashes, held a love and intensity that I wanted to wrap myself in. I studied his face, olive skin and dark hair. He gently rubbed his thumb along my jaw. I closed my eyes, reveling in the touch of another person. Missing Greg. Loving Drew. I laid my head on his shoulder. He rubbed my back, his touch warm through the cotton of my shirt, that of an old friend. Or an old lover.