“Next year?” He was holding himself very still, but his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed dryly. He’d leaned toward me a little, just enough so that I could see the flecks of green in his soft brown eyes. I certainly had his whole attention. “Look, I support whatever you think is best. It’s your call.” And, to his credit, he sounded sincere. “But . . . I thought you hated being alone with Clara all day? And loafing around with the Lululemon moms? I figured you’d be eager to get back to work and have someone else helping you out with Clara.”
Lululemon moms. Okay, I’d originated the phrase, but still. I was one of them, wasn’t I? And “hated” was such a strong word, and it stung. Did he think I hated being a mom? Was that how I seemed? I felt damned if I did, damned if I didn’t. If I stayed home with Clara, I would be kind of miserable—what did that say about me? But if my only reason for going to work was to avoid my baby, that made me even more terrible. And again, his characterization of the moms’ group—he was only repeating my own words, but for some reason, hearing it from his lips irritated the hell out of me.
“We don’t ‘loaf around,’ first of all. We’re actually pretty busy taking care of children. You know, like yours? And maybe the reason we’re all in yoga pants is because we’re too tired to put on real clothes—from never sleeping? And our vaginas are still healing. From pushing humans out of them.” Man, I was even more fired up about his comment than I’d realized.
“Okay, okay.” He put his hands up surrender-style, realizing he’d screwed up. “I’m sorry. Bad choice of words. Before this turns into another fight, is this actually about wanting to continue staying home with Clara? Or something else? You haven’t been . . . yourself lately. And now your friend is missing.” He’d kept his tone calm, and now it softened even further. “I’m worried about her, too, obviously. But it’s you I most care about. And I just want to make sure that more time off is part of a solution, and doesn’t end up making you feel even more stressed out, with more time to worry about . . . everything you’ve got going on.”
I made myself take a breath. What he was saying was fair. I honestly wasn’t sure if prolonging this stage—my day-to-day grind with Clara, and now obsessing over Isabel, too—would be healthy. All I really knew was that I physically could not put on black pants and a sweater, kiss my baby goodbye, and facilitate discussions about literature all day. Attend staff meetings. Grade papers. Email with parents. I wasn’t there yet: I couldn’t visualize it, couldn’t fathom it, certainly couldn’t do it.
“I’ll give it some more thought. But I just wanted to put it on your radar that this is something I’m considering.”
“Okay. Again, I support whatever you decide to do. Shit, I’m going to be late.” He started putting the papers in front of him into a folder.
“Wait, before you go—random question for you?”
“Shoot.”
“Did I say anything to you about having plans a while back, the week before last? With Isabel?”
He scrunched his forehead, sending his glasses sliding down his nose again. “No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“No reason. It was something the cops mentioned. It was surely a mistake. Just kind of weirded me out, that’s all. But I’ve been home every night, right?”
“Yeah, definitely. I mean, you went out some weeks back with your teacher friends”—I gulped—“and then there was that random night you went walking.”
“What?”
“You remember. It was probably a week or two ago. You came home at like, eleven p.m. I didn’t even know you’d been gone. I knew you’d gotten up, but I figured it was to help Clara. But when you got back in bed, you said you couldn’t sleep and went for a walk.”
None of this sounded remotely familiar to me. I had definitely taken a few evening walks following days where I hadn’t managed to leave the house, or when my blood was boiling with the stress of the day, but I didn’t remember ever taking one so late at night. “What night was it?” My pulse was suddenly racing.
“Oh man. I have no idea. It might have even been a few weeks back. That’s probably why you don’t remember, because it was a while ago. It wasn’t a big deal. It’s not like it was the middle of the night. Lots of people take walks to calm down. It’s a little strange you don’t remember, but you’re tired. Don’t sweat it.”