arms out from beneath the blankets.
“You will be, as soon as you shut those eyes.”
“Ms. Traynor said we have to get eight hours of sleep every night.” Jack’s teacher dispensed a great deal of advice, some of which Meg felt overstepped her bounds.
“Ms. Traynor is very smart. Now, lights out.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“Out. Now stop stalling and get to sleep.”
The sweet sound of Jack singing a lullaby she usually sang to him herself filtered through his closed door, igniting a flicker of guilt. One more day, Jack. Once Alex was away, she could devote more time to her son.
Downstairs, she ignored unopened mail and unfolded laundry and collected the things she planned to pack in Alex’s bag. All week she’d pulled things piecemeal from her daughter’s floor, throwing them in with her own laundry, hoping Alex wouldn’t notice. She’d found herself buying the teen new underwear and socks, her usual pre-vacation ritual. “I must be in denial,” she’d told Melissa when they met at the diner the night before Jacob left for Vermont.
Her sister was on board with sending Alex to The Birches, mostly. The one point they didn’t agree on—and it was major—was telling Jacob.
“You can’t keep this from him. He’s her father,” Melissa had said as she blew on her clam chowder to cool it. “You always do this, Meg. Remember when you sold all the baby furniture on Craigslist without telling him?”
“Jack was five. We knew we weren’t having any more kids.”
“Still, you made things pretty official. Jacob was really upset.”
“That was totally different. It was about stuff . And I told you, I tried to talk to him about the transport Sunday night. He blew me off—even after I showed him the pills. Like they meant nothing.”
“Listen, I know how much he’s hurt you, but—”
“You think I’m doing this to get back at him?” Meg cried. “I would never use my daughter that way.”
“I know that. But what about later ?” Melissa let her spoon fall into her soup. “Jacob could use this in the divorce.”
Out loud, the word had stung. Meg still hadn’t told many people.
“ He’s the one abandoning us. He’ll probably be happier with Alex off somewhere in New Hampshire. One less kid to cramp his ‘single’ style.”
“You know he’s devoted to them. Tell him, Meg. Before he leaves for Vermont.”
“I can’t.” How could she convince her sister this wasn’t revenge? Meg swallowed. “He’ll thank me. I know he will.”
“That might be a stretch. And there’s still Jack. He could try to take him from you. Use the ‘unfit mother’ thing.”
“If an unfit mother does every imaginable thing to save her child, then I’m guilty.” Meg dropped her burger, no longer hungry. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Yours, of course,” Melissa had said softly. Picking up a small stainless pitcher of hot water, she poured it over her tea bag.
It reminded Meg of her mother’s dented teapot and the set she hoped to hand down to Alex one day, as her mother had passed it on to her. She stared up at the diner ceiling, where tiny lights glittered in the stucco like constellations. “Don’t you think if I had any other option for getting Alex there, I would use it? You know what happened when I tried to talk to her about it. When you tried.”
“I know,” Melissa sighed. Following the boardwalk debacle, Alex had curtly dismissed the idea of a road trip, as proposed by her godmother. It was an opportunity she would have embraced a year ago. “You think I don’t know how you two work?” Alex had snarled.
“I’ll deal with the fallout from Jacob later,” Meg said. “I’m just so terrified something will happen to her if I don’t do something now .”
Her sister reached across the table to clasp Meg’s hands. “It won’t . And now that I’ve said my piece . . .” Melissa slid a folded check across the table. “Put this toward the transport.”
Meg slid it
“You will be, as soon as you shut those eyes.”
“Ms. Traynor said we have to get eight hours of sleep every night.” Jack’s teacher dispensed a great deal of advice, some of which Meg felt overstepped her bounds.
“Ms. Traynor is very smart. Now, lights out.”
“Where’s Alex?”
“Out. Now stop stalling and get to sleep.”
The sweet sound of Jack singing a lullaby she usually sang to him herself filtered through his closed door, igniting a flicker of guilt. One more day, Jack. Once Alex was away, she could devote more time to her son.
Downstairs, she ignored unopened mail and unfolded laundry and collected the things she planned to pack in Alex’s bag. All week she’d pulled things piecemeal from her daughter’s floor, throwing them in with her own laundry, hoping Alex wouldn’t notice. She’d found herself buying the teen new underwear and socks, her usual pre-vacation ritual. “I must be in denial,” she’d told Melissa when they met at the diner the night before Jacob left for Vermont.
Her sister was on board with sending Alex to The Birches, mostly. The one point they didn’t agree on—and it was major—was telling Jacob.
“You can’t keep this from him. He’s her father,” Melissa had said as she blew on her clam chowder to cool it. “You always do this, Meg. Remember when you sold all the baby furniture on Craigslist without telling him?”
“Jack was five. We knew we weren’t having any more kids.”
“Still, you made things pretty official. Jacob was really upset.”
“That was totally different. It was about stuff . And I told you, I tried to talk to him about the transport Sunday night. He blew me off—even after I showed him the pills. Like they meant nothing.”
“Listen, I know how much he’s hurt you, but—”
“You think I’m doing this to get back at him?” Meg cried. “I would never use my daughter that way.”
“I know that. But what about later ?” Melissa let her spoon fall into her soup. “Jacob could use this in the divorce.”
Out loud, the word had stung. Meg still hadn’t told many people.
“ He’s the one abandoning us. He’ll probably be happier with Alex off somewhere in New Hampshire. One less kid to cramp his ‘single’ style.”
“You know he’s devoted to them. Tell him, Meg. Before he leaves for Vermont.”
“I can’t.” How could she convince her sister this wasn’t revenge? Meg swallowed. “He’ll thank me. I know he will.”
“That might be a stretch. And there’s still Jack. He could try to take him from you. Use the ‘unfit mother’ thing.”
“If an unfit mother does every imaginable thing to save her child, then I’m guilty.” Meg dropped her burger, no longer hungry. “Whose side are you on, anyway?”
“Yours, of course,” Melissa had said softly. Picking up a small stainless pitcher of hot water, she poured it over her tea bag.
It reminded Meg of her mother’s dented teapot and the set she hoped to hand down to Alex one day, as her mother had passed it on to her. She stared up at the diner ceiling, where tiny lights glittered in the stucco like constellations. “Don’t you think if I had any other option for getting Alex there, I would use it? You know what happened when I tried to talk to her about it. When you tried.”
“I know,” Melissa sighed. Following the boardwalk debacle, Alex had curtly dismissed the idea of a road trip, as proposed by her godmother. It was an opportunity she would have embraced a year ago. “You think I don’t know how you two work?” Alex had snarled.
“I’ll deal with the fallout from Jacob later,” Meg said. “I’m just so terrified something will happen to her if I don’t do something now .”
Her sister reached across the table to clasp Meg’s hands. “It won’t . And now that I’ve said my piece . . .” Melissa slid a folded check across the table. “Put this toward the transport.”
Meg slid it
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