Chapter 23

Oh God. My mother is calling.

I see her number flash on the screen as I’m driving to the preschool to pick up Leah and am stalled at a red light. It’s night number two of us being alone together without Ben. It hasn’t been fun.

I really don’t want to talk to my mother now, but I recognize that it’s been over a week since we talked, so my not picking up will trigger immediate suspicion. Better to get the call over with and have the automatic excuse of being able to get off the phone when I arrive at Mila’s. I quickly put on my hands-free device and answer the call.

“Hi, Mom,” I say.

“Jane!” She always sounds breathless when she first answers the phone, as if the thrill of talking to me has overcome her. “How was Reading? How was Nancy?”

“Good,” I mumble.

“Did Leah have a good time?”

“Yes.” She did have a good time. That’s definitely not a lie .

“And what about Ben?”

I bite my lip, not entirely sure what to say. Mom is probably the biggest Ben fan in the world. Before he came along, she met Ryan a handful of times and she was never quite sure what to make of him. “He’s sure handsome,” she said, the first time we all had dinner together, which was a feat in itself because Ryan did not “do” dinner with the parents. It took months of coaxing, culminating in him being his usual charming self, but my mother was still incredibly suspicious of him.

Then when I started dating Ben, Mom took to him immediately. Of course, Ben was ready to meet her pretty much from our second date, but I waited three months, just in case things fell apart. After that dinner, she didn’t comment on Ben’s looks, but she told me breathlessly, “Boy, he sure likes you.”

“Ben had a good time too,” I say tightly.

“I hope Nancy didn’t spoil him too much,” she comments.

Actually, she spoiled him so much, he refused to leave.

“Not too much,” I manage.

There’s a silence between us while I sit stalled at another red light. I want to tell her everything that’s going on. I probably should. Except…

My mom’s marriage was such a mess. Yeah, my dad was a total loser—an alcoholic with no sense of responsibility—but I still felt like my mother bore some responsibility for what happened. If only because she chose such a loser to marry. But if Ben and I fall apart, then I’ll have to own up to my own part in that mess. And I can’t do that right now.

“Is everything all right, Janie?” she asks.

“Yeah, totally fine,” I say quickly. “It’s just… I’m at the daycare, so… I should probably go.”

“All right…” She sounds somewhat hesitant. “I’ll let you go. Call me later if you want to talk.”

“Sure,” I chirp brightly. “Talk to you later!”

I’m still about half a mile from Mila’s. But if I stayed on the phone another minute, I’d crack.

I’m the very last parent to arrive at the preschool. Ben usually picks Leah up today because this is a clinic that tends to run late, but obviously that wasn’t an option today. So there was a lot of interrupting of patients and unreturned phone calls. Tomorrow I’ll make up for it.

The door to the preschool is stuck, which is just what I need right now. After I jimmy it open, I practically fall to the floor in the foyer. Mila and Leah are picking up toys, and Mila looks up in surprise when she sees me. Leah just keeps picking up toys, to mock me by showing me all the things she’d be capable of if I were a more competent parent.

“I’m not late, am I?” I right myself and shut the door behind me .

Mila shrugs. “I do not pay attention to such things. You are usually on time.”

I grab Leah’s coat out of her cubby and hold it out for her. I notice that Mila is giving me a curious look, which I try to do my best to ignore.

“Usually this is your husband’s day to pick up Leah,” she notes.

“Yes,” I mumble. “He’s just… he’s not around. I mean, right now.”

Mila’s brown eyes widen slightly. I didn’t mean to imply anything, but apparently, she’s put it all together faster than my mother. Honestly, this was the last thing I wanted. Mila was so obviously a perfect mother and I’m certain she was a perfect wife too. This will be yet another piece of evidence that I’m failing at my family.

“You wait here,” Mila instructs me.

I watch as her stubby little legs carry her to the back room, where she keeps art supplies and has a sink and refrigerator. I hear the refrigerator door open and then shut, and when Mila returns, she’s holding a large piece of Tupperware.

“You have this for dinner.” She pushes the Tupperware into my hands. “Stuffed chicken breast. Maman ’s recipe. Nothing fancy.”

“Mila, you don’t have to…”

She waves her hand at me. “Too much food for me anyway. Better for you and Leah. ”

Of course, Leah will only eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets. But maybe in the parallel universe that my daughter occupies when she’s here, she’s someone who would eat stuffed chicken breast.

As I clutch the Tupperware to my chest, Mila says, “My husband. He left for a while too.” Her eyes soften. “He came back though. He was a good man. I miss him.” She offers me a tiny smile. “Your husband is a good man too.”

I hope she’s right.