Hilary moves her things away, afraid of what might happen when I open the diaper. You’re not the only one who’s afraid, sister.
Ten disgusting minutes and a whole package of wipes later, I’ve got the problem under control. But now I understood why Rachel was so insistent that I pack an extra set of clothes. Too bad I didn’t listen.
After giving Hilary an awkward apology for getting poop on her blanket, blaming my amateur diaper-changing skills on a sleepless night, I grab Charlotte, clad only in a diaper, and make the walk of shame back to Rachel’s house, the $250 Burberry outfit I bought for her now lying in the bottom of a park trash can.
“Stop laughing!” I beg Rachel later as I tell her the story. We’ve locked ourselves in the den with Charlotte, going over every detail of each other’s day. Thankfully, she brought take-out with her for dinner and saved everyone from my cooking. I think the kids were wondering why their Aunt Casey had A) been thoughtful enough to bring dinner and B) seemed so incredibly overjoyed to see them. It was the first time we’d all been together in many months, and given our old switcheroo, I’d say it was awkward at best.
? ? ?
“Mom, can you pass the pasta?” Sophie asked me.
Rachel sprang out of her seat to grab it and I gave her a look and took it myself. “Here you go,” I said as I set it in front of her.
“Make sure you have some vegetables with that,” Rachel added. Everyone at the table looked at her like she had two heads.
“Aunt Casey, since when do you care what we eat?” Audrey laughed.
“Yes, Aunt Casey,” I said pointedly. “I’m perfectly capable of making sure the kids eat properly.”
“Sorry,” she said and poked her fork around her plate. “Just trying to help.”
“You can help by giving us all the latest scoop on Ryan McKnight!” Sophie chimed in. “Was he really cheating with that hooker in the hot tub?”
“Sophie!” Rachel and I scolded her in unison. I gave her another look. Let me handle this. I can do it. Just trust me.
“That’s inappropriate dinner conversation,” I said to Sophie.
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes at me and pushed her plate away.
I could feel Rachel’s eyes burning into the side of my head. She wanted me to do something. But what? Did people still send kids to their room? I was trying to decide what to do when John interrupted me. “You are not allowed to talk to your mother that way. Hand over your cell phone for the night.”
“Dad! That is so unfair!” Sophie screamed as she got up from the table, grabbed her cell phone out of her backpack, and slammed it onto the table before running upstairs to her room and slamming the door too.
Relieved, I turned to John. “Thank you,” I said as I touched his arm.
He looked surprised at my gesture. “You’re welcome.”
Rachel cleared her throat next to me. “Ahem.”
“Sorry,” I whispered to her. And then when we realized the rest of the family was staring at me, I added, “I mean, sorry, you had to see that.”
“It’s totally fine,” she’d said. “I’m sure she does it all the time.”
“I hope not,” I said out loud before I could stop myself. Thankfully, everyone started laughing and I joined in, letting them think I was in on the joke.
? ? ?
In the privacy of the den, I finally get the chance to find out how things went for Rachel at GossipTV. “So, tell me every detail about your day.” I try to sound perky, not wanting to give away the fact that I’m terrified she got me fired.
Rachel bites her bottom lip and stares off for a moment. “I think I did pretty well. Like you said, it was kind of like riding a bike; it just came back to me.”
I exhale in relief. “I’m happy for you,” I say, although I’m happier for me. That job is all I have and I can’t afford to lose it. “That must have been fun, to get back out there.”
“It was,” she says slowly. “It reminded me that I used to be good at something other than being a mom.” Before I can comment, she adds, “Charlie seems nice.”
“He is. You can trust him.” Charlie and I had worked together for years. He was one of the best producers around and one of the few people on the show who I knew had my back. I decide not to mention our history to Rachel. No matter what happened between us, I know he’ll still look out for me, for her.
“Why have you never mentioned him?” she asks with a look I’ve seen before.
“Don’t even go there. Just because he’s the one nice guy who works in the studio does not mean he’s the right guy for me.”