as if to walk away.
“Wait, Yossi. Let me give you my phone number, in case you think of anything. He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed the card I handed him into his pocket without looking at it.
“What’s your last name?” I asked.
“Zinger,” he said, turning on his heel and walking across the restaurant to the table where his friends were sitting.
“I want to go home, Mama. I want to see Daddy,” Ruby whined.
“Okay, honey,” I said. I hustled the kids out of the restaurant and into the car and, within an hour, had them both bathed and ready for bed. Ruby was out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow. Isaac, as usual, was ready to rock and roll until the wee hours.
I took him into my bed and faked sleep, hoping to trick him into following suit. He was unimpressed. He lay in the crook of my arm, grunting and waving his arms about, his fingers gracefully outstretched like a miniature Thai dancer. After a futile ten minutes or so of playing possum, I gave up.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do?” I answered in a squeaky baby voice.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
Et cetera.
This scintillating exercise was interrupted by Peter’s arrival.
“Hey,” he called as he thumped up the back stairs.
“Hey,” I called back.
“Are you still up?”
“No. I’m asleep. Can’t you tell?”
Peter walked into the bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he crossed the worn wooden floorboards. In seconds he was next to us in bed, clad only in his boxer shorts.
“Hi, Isaac,” Peter said, scooping the baby up and buzzing him on his belly. Isaac giggled.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said in my squeaky voice.
“Did you guys have a good day?”
“Not really.”
Peter pushed a long curl out of his eye. “Me neither.”
“You go first,” I said, rather generously, if I do say so myself.
“Oh, you know, just the usual garbage. The studio guys are insisting that the special effects are too expensive for TV and the director is threatening to quit unless they’re left in. Blah blah blah. I swear to God, if it weren’t for Mindy, I’d be going out of my mind.”
I felt a flash of jealousy. The producing partner Peter’s agency had set him up with was a woman of about my age with the unlikely name of Mindy Maxx. She was blond and brilliant and weighed seventeen pounds.
“And what did Maximum Mindy do today?”
Peter laughed perfunctorily. “She’s really adept at handling those network drones. She keeps them in check but somehow convinces them that they’re in charge. She’s amazing.”
“So you’ve said before.”
He was oblivious to my sarcasm. “You do remember that we’re going to her house for dinner tomorrow night, don’t you?” he asked.
I hadn’t remembered. “Oh God, is that tomorrow? Peter, I totally forgot. I didn’t set up a baby-sitter. And Fraydle, the girl who was supposed to sit today, has disappeared. I don’t know where I’d begin to find someone to watch the kids.”
“I figured. That’s why I found someone.”
“
You
found a baby-sitter? What are you talking about? How did you find a baby-sitter?”
“Well, actually, it was Mindy’s idea. Her assistant, Angelika, is going to do it.”
“Angel-eeeka? Who’s Angelika? We can’t just let some total stranger take care of the kids.” What was he thinking? Did he really believe I’d leave my kids with someone I’d never met?
“She’s not a total stranger. I’ve known her for months—since we started developing the series. She’s a nice young kid, a year or two out of college. She went to Yale, like Mindy.”
“Oh, well, if she went to Yale, by all means.” I was being snide. I’m a Harvard girl, after all.
“Juliet, do I need to remind you that you left Isaac with some girl you met once in a grocery store?”
That shut me up, for a moment.
“It’ll be fine,” Peter continued. “Angelika is a sweet kid and she’s very
“Wait, Yossi. Let me give you my phone number, in case you think of anything. He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed the card I handed him into his pocket without looking at it.
“What’s your last name?” I asked.
“Zinger,” he said, turning on his heel and walking across the restaurant to the table where his friends were sitting.
“I want to go home, Mama. I want to see Daddy,” Ruby whined.
“Okay, honey,” I said. I hustled the kids out of the restaurant and into the car and, within an hour, had them both bathed and ready for bed. Ruby was out like a light as soon as her head hit the pillow. Isaac, as usual, was ready to rock and roll until the wee hours.
I took him into my bed and faked sleep, hoping to trick him into following suit. He was unimpressed. He lay in the crook of my arm, grunting and waving his arms about, his fingers gracefully outstretched like a miniature Thai dancer. After a futile ten minutes or so of playing possum, I gave up.
“So, what do you want to do?” I asked.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do?” I answered in a squeaky baby voice.
“I don’t know, what do you want to do?”
Et cetera.
This scintillating exercise was interrupted by Peter’s arrival.
“Hey,” he called as he thumped up the back stairs.
“Hey,” I called back.
“Are you still up?”
“No. I’m asleep. Can’t you tell?”
Peter walked into the bedroom, stripping off his clothes as he crossed the worn wooden floorboards. In seconds he was next to us in bed, clad only in his boxer shorts.
“Hi, Isaac,” Peter said, scooping the baby up and buzzing him on his belly. Isaac giggled.
“Hi, Daddy,” I said in my squeaky voice.
“Did you guys have a good day?”
“Not really.”
Peter pushed a long curl out of his eye. “Me neither.”
“You go first,” I said, rather generously, if I do say so myself.
“Oh, you know, just the usual garbage. The studio guys are insisting that the special effects are too expensive for TV and the director is threatening to quit unless they’re left in. Blah blah blah. I swear to God, if it weren’t for Mindy, I’d be going out of my mind.”
I felt a flash of jealousy. The producing partner Peter’s agency had set him up with was a woman of about my age with the unlikely name of Mindy Maxx. She was blond and brilliant and weighed seventeen pounds.
“And what did Maximum Mindy do today?”
Peter laughed perfunctorily. “She’s really adept at handling those network drones. She keeps them in check but somehow convinces them that they’re in charge. She’s amazing.”
“So you’ve said before.”
He was oblivious to my sarcasm. “You do remember that we’re going to her house for dinner tomorrow night, don’t you?” he asked.
I hadn’t remembered. “Oh God, is that tomorrow? Peter, I totally forgot. I didn’t set up a baby-sitter. And Fraydle, the girl who was supposed to sit today, has disappeared. I don’t know where I’d begin to find someone to watch the kids.”
“I figured. That’s why I found someone.”
“
You
found a baby-sitter? What are you talking about? How did you find a baby-sitter?”
“Well, actually, it was Mindy’s idea. Her assistant, Angelika, is going to do it.”
“Angel-eeeka? Who’s Angelika? We can’t just let some total stranger take care of the kids.” What was he thinking? Did he really believe I’d leave my kids with someone I’d never met?
“She’s not a total stranger. I’ve known her for months—since we started developing the series. She’s a nice young kid, a year or two out of college. She went to Yale, like Mindy.”
“Oh, well, if she went to Yale, by all means.” I was being snide. I’m a Harvard girl, after all.
“Juliet, do I need to remind you that you left Isaac with some girl you met once in a grocery store?”
That shut me up, for a moment.
“It’ll be fine,” Peter continued. “Angelika is a sweet kid and she’s very
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