21
Cassie!!!
You’re nuts! I hope you are joking. Every time I saw you in a bikini, I would think, damn, why did I quit ballet? Remember Evan Rogers, the football captain and my junior-prom date? He once told me that he thought you had the best body in the whole school. If he hadn’t been such a meathead, I might have told you at the time. You are beautiful. And seriously? Your husband hasn’t seen you naked in more than three years? Get over yourself! He’ll just be happy to see boobs. Trust me. Sorry this is so short. I am running out and just wanted to get this note to you as soon as I read your last one. Will fill you in next time!
Love,
Sid
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but that story about Evan Rogers did give me a little thrill. And the same day the letter arrived, my big box of new clothes finally showed up after two failed delivery attempts, and so did a notice from Little Oaks Preschool: The boys had made their way up the wait list and were being offered two mornings a week, immediately. It was like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one: a twenty-year-old compliment, a letter from Sid, two spots in a great preschool, and the largest wardrobe upgrade to which I had ever in my whole life treated myself.
The timing was perfect because I’d spent the morning being annoyed with Leo, who had reminded me he would be spending most of the coming weekend in a “boot camp” for turophiles at Murray’s Cheese, which meant the boys and I would be on our own, just like every other day. Plus, I knew he’d be bringing home the world’s rankest cheese to sit in our refrigerator and smell up the entire apartment. I’d blown up at him about it that morning, so to get those letters and the ShopBop box that day was a welcome distraction. I called Leo right away about the preschool. When we’d put them on the waiting list, I was still working. Leo seemed surprised, but the cheese-boot-camp episode worked in my favor after all, because he didn’t dare suggest that since I was at home now, perhaps theboys didn’t need to be in school just yet. (In fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking, but I was so overjoyed at landing the two spots that I pushed on through those doubts.) Nor did he balk at the astronomical deposit we’d need to pay in the next seventy-two hours, bless him. Instead he commented that it was strange that the school still sent notices via mail, especially with such a tight deadline. But in my world important things came in the mail all the time, so to me it made perfect sense.
“So we can do it, right?” I asked him.
“Do they really need to start now? There are only two months until summer break. Couldn’t they just start in September?”
“It’s now or never. There are hundreds of people waiting for these two spots.”
I told him I’d let Wanda go as soon as she found another family for Tuesdays.
“All right.” He sighed. “We might have to eat beans and rice for the rest of the month, but you can drop off a check today.”
“Yes! Thanks, hon. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye, Cass.”
But my hands shook as I dropped off the pile of paperwork and the check that afternoon. And I cried like a baby when their first day of school arrived. I waited until I was home, but once there, I curled up on Joey’s bed and sobbed into his pillow for a good twenty minutes. Leo, who could tell I was barely holding it together when we’d said our goodbyes to the boys that morning in the light-filled welcome zone, called to check on me.
“They’re just growing up so fast,” I choked out, the way every mother must on her child’s first day of school.
CHAPTER SIX
E very Wednesday my closest mommy friend, Monica Jones, and I take our kids to a playground or a museum or a free music class or something like that. I met Monica in a twins baby group. Hers are Ana and Jonny. We bonded because neither of us was superexcited about being there, and it showed. Our eyes caught each other on a
Cassie!!!
You’re nuts! I hope you are joking. Every time I saw you in a bikini, I would think, damn, why did I quit ballet? Remember Evan Rogers, the football captain and my junior-prom date? He once told me that he thought you had the best body in the whole school. If he hadn’t been such a meathead, I might have told you at the time. You are beautiful. And seriously? Your husband hasn’t seen you naked in more than three years? Get over yourself! He’ll just be happy to see boobs. Trust me. Sorry this is so short. I am running out and just wanted to get this note to you as soon as I read your last one. Will fill you in next time!
Love,
Sid
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but that story about Evan Rogers did give me a little thrill. And the same day the letter arrived, my big box of new clothes finally showed up after two failed delivery attempts, and so did a notice from Little Oaks Preschool: The boys had made their way up the wait list and were being offered two mornings a week, immediately. It was like my birthday and Christmas all rolled into one: a twenty-year-old compliment, a letter from Sid, two spots in a great preschool, and the largest wardrobe upgrade to which I had ever in my whole life treated myself.
The timing was perfect because I’d spent the morning being annoyed with Leo, who had reminded me he would be spending most of the coming weekend in a “boot camp” for turophiles at Murray’s Cheese, which meant the boys and I would be on our own, just like every other day. Plus, I knew he’d be bringing home the world’s rankest cheese to sit in our refrigerator and smell up the entire apartment. I’d blown up at him about it that morning, so to get those letters and the ShopBop box that day was a welcome distraction. I called Leo right away about the preschool. When we’d put them on the waiting list, I was still working. Leo seemed surprised, but the cheese-boot-camp episode worked in my favor after all, because he didn’t dare suggest that since I was at home now, perhaps theboys didn’t need to be in school just yet. (In fact, that’s exactly what I was thinking, but I was so overjoyed at landing the two spots that I pushed on through those doubts.) Nor did he balk at the astronomical deposit we’d need to pay in the next seventy-two hours, bless him. Instead he commented that it was strange that the school still sent notices via mail, especially with such a tight deadline. But in my world important things came in the mail all the time, so to me it made perfect sense.
“So we can do it, right?” I asked him.
“Do they really need to start now? There are only two months until summer break. Couldn’t they just start in September?”
“It’s now or never. There are hundreds of people waiting for these two spots.”
I told him I’d let Wanda go as soon as she found another family for Tuesdays.
“All right.” He sighed. “We might have to eat beans and rice for the rest of the month, but you can drop off a check today.”
“Yes! Thanks, hon. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Bye, Cass.”
But my hands shook as I dropped off the pile of paperwork and the check that afternoon. And I cried like a baby when their first day of school arrived. I waited until I was home, but once there, I curled up on Joey’s bed and sobbed into his pillow for a good twenty minutes. Leo, who could tell I was barely holding it together when we’d said our goodbyes to the boys that morning in the light-filled welcome zone, called to check on me.
“They’re just growing up so fast,” I choked out, the way every mother must on her child’s first day of school.
CHAPTER SIX
E very Wednesday my closest mommy friend, Monica Jones, and I take our kids to a playground or a museum or a free music class or something like that. I met Monica in a twins baby group. Hers are Ana and Jonny. We bonded because neither of us was superexcited about being there, and it showed. Our eyes caught each other on a
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