Soaring (Magdalene #2)

I stayed still as he walked away, but my eyes watched him move out of the kitchen toward the landing.

 

They caught on Pippa who was standing at the end of the counter.

 

“Hey, Mom,” she launched in when she got my attention. “I know this is Mom Time and I woulda asked earlier, but Polly only told me today that her mom’s always wanted to see Cliff Blue. So she asked if she could come over some time with her mom and we could show them around. I thought she could come over tomorrow, if that’s okay.”

 

“That’s fine, sweets,” my mouth said for me, my tone sounding natural and calm and not how I felt.

 

Ecstatic and overjoyed.

 

“Cool,” she muttered, shrugging her purse off her shoulder and digging in to get out her phone. She then started wandering away, texting, but she did it talking. “Awesome you’re roasting a chicken. Haven’t had your chicken in ages.”

 

I stood immobile with buttery hands watching my daughter wander away texting until she disappeared down the hall.

 

I continued to stand immobile with buttery hands, fighting the urge to jump on my phone and text Robin, Lawr and Mickey to tell them what just happened.

 

I was still fighting this when Auden yelled, “Hey, Mom! Can I move the bed from the side wall to the back wall?”

 

I closed my eyes as euphoria swept through me.

 

I opened them and yelled back, “Yeah, kiddo! Hang tight, I’ll get this chicken in and help!”

 

“I will too!” Pippa said after me.

 

My throat felt thick, I could feel the tears gathering behind my eyes and that was when I stood there and fought that.

 

It was a fight I had to win because I had to get the chicken in the oven, clean my hands and help my son move his bed in his room to where he wanted it to be.

 

I focused on doing the first parts, and after the chicken was in and my hands were cleaned, I walked toward my children’s rooms, calling, “We get this bed moved, you know the drill! Homework done first thing so you don’t have to worry about it all weekend!”

 

“But there’s something I wanna watch on TV tonight!” Pippa called back.

 

I was in her door when she finished. “So watch it with your books in front of you.”

 

“Whatever,” she muttered, but she did it good-naturedly.

 

“Come help me with your brother’s bed.”

 

She nodded, tossed her phone on her comforter and I moved out of her doorway toward Auden’s room, thrilled with the knowledge that my baby girl was following me.

 

*

 

“Mom, you’ve got nothing in your scheduled recordings,” Auden announced after dinner that evening.

 

He was lounged on the couch across from where I was lounged in my fabulous armchair. He had the remote up and pointed at the TV.

 

“I don’t watch that much TV, kid,” I reminded him.

 

He looked back to the TV and started pressing buttons. “You got HBO. Showtime. Cinemax. Jeez, you got the premium package.” His eyes returned to me. “You don’t even wanna record movies?”

 

I’d been so busy, except with Mickey and his kids and when I had my kids, I hadn’t thought about movies.

 

“That’s a good idea,” I murmured.

 

“Hey!” Pippa snapped, bouncing into the room, coming from whatever she’d been doing in her bedroom (hopefully her homework), her gaze aimed at the television. “Don’t use up all the DVR space. I get half.”

 

“You get a third, Pip. Mom’s gonna start recording movies.”

 

“Whatever, Auden. I get a third so don’t use it all up,” she returned, throwing herself on the couch and kicking at his legs unnecessarily to make room for herself when there was already plenty.

 

“Don’t be a douche,” Auden bit out, moving his legs back to where they were before Pippa kicked them.

 

“Just ’cause you’re taller than me doesn’t mean you get the whole couch, Auden,” she retorted.

 

“Actually,” I put in, “it kinda does.” Both kids looked at me, but I looked to Pippa. “You don’t need that much room, sweets. The couch is long, you have plenty. Share with your brother, baby.”

 

She hunched back into the couch, looking to the TV and mumbling, “You always take his side.”

 

“I didn’t get a new comforter, Pippa,” Auden returned.

 

Oh no.

 

“Do you want one?” I asked my son.

 

“No,” he answered me. “Just pointing out she’s full of it.”

 

Pippa looked to me. “Can you get another armchair like yours that I can sit in?”

 

That would crowd the space and look funny.

 

“No,” I told her gently.

 

“I cannot believe you asked Mom to buy you a chair,” Auden said precisely like he couldn’t believe it.

 

“That chair is awesome,” Pippa retorted, making the warmth inside me snuggle deeper, which was what their bickering was doing, as crazy as that sounded.

 

Auden turned his attention back to the TV, clicking the remote, answering, “It is. But it’d look stupid, crammed up here with all this other stuff. And it’s not like chairs grow on trees.”

 

“I didn’t say they did,” Pippa returned.

 

“Just be cool for once,” Auden shot back.

 

“Okay,” I cut in. “I love it that you love my chair, Pip. And I love it that you’re protective of my design aesthetic, Auden. But how about we make this zone,” I circled my hand to indicate the space we were occupying, “a bicker free zone for ten minutes.”

 

Pippa hunched back into the couch and Auden turned back to the TV, doing this grinning.

 

“Design aesthetic,” he muttered, clearly amused.

 

Back in the day, I amused my boy often.

 

Right then, knowing I did, I tasted a sweet so beautiful, I knew I’d buried the memory so understanding I’d lost it wouldn’t kill me.

 

When he did, Pippa audibly swallowed back a giggle before also muttering, “Mom’s so goofy.”

 

I drew in a silent breath and let it out.

 

Whackjob I hated.

 

Goofy I’d take since, to my kids, something they told me frequently, I’d always been goofy.

 

That also tasted sweet.

 

I’d missed it too.

 

The ten minutes actually only lasted about two before Pippa asked irritably, “Can we watch something while you schedule your bazillion programs into the DVR?”

 

I looked at the programming happening and wondered when my son actually intended to watch all that.

 

“What do you want?” he asked.

 

“Something,” she answered.

 

Expertly, Auden changed the channel to something Pippa would accept then went back to programming the DVR.

 

But he did this asking, “That cool for you, Mom?”

 

In my son’s voice (or my daughter’s), “Mom” was the most beautiful word in the English language.

 

“Yeah, kiddo,” I replied, not even knowing what we were watching.

 

I didn’t care.

 

They were back.

 

My kids were back.

 

With me.

 

*

 

“Amy, that’s fuckin’ great,” Mickey said in my ear through the phone while I reclined on my daybed in my bedroom.

 

The kids were still camped out in front of the TV, but I’d gone to my room because it was late.

 

It was also high time to text Lawr and Robin.

 

But I decided to phone Mickey.

 

Lawr and Robin texted back with different but equally elated responses.