“Ryke…” I have no clue what to do. Sulli can see his naked body up against mine like we’re two animals mating on National Geographic.
Ryke is already looking over his shoulder, then back to me. “Hey, she won’t remember any of this, Calloway. Fucking relax.”
I must look horrified.
He tries to cheer me up by messing my hair, but it’s too damp to ruffle. I just fixate on his words: she won’t remember any of this. She’s too young. It eases my shoulders. Ryke gently pulls out of me, and I relocate the rest of my senses.
“I’ll see what she wants.”
Before I go, Ryke kisses my lips and asks, “You feel okay?”
He means physically after sex. “I just had five million orgasms. I think I’m better than okay.”
“Five fucking million?”
“I know you’re jealous of my husband, but he’s just that good at sex.” I wag my brows, migrating away from him, and he looks like all he wants is to pull me back into his arms.
I slip into the house and crouch down to Sulli, Ryke pulling on his boxer-briefs much farther away from us. “Hey there. Why aren’t you in bed?”
She rubs her tired eyes with a fist. “I saw that you were gone, and…and I got scared.” She peeks curiously behind me. “What were you and Daddy…” She yawns and forgets that question. I could find a way to answer, but I’m glad I don’t have to.
I nudge her arm with mine. “You know who will always protect you, even while you’re sleeping, even when Daddy and I aren’t around?”
“Who?” she asks.
“Coconut.”
Sulli spins around and stands on her tiptoes, peering up at the white husky. She lies content at the foot of the bed, observing us, constantly alert, a smile in her big blue eyes as though to say I love you all too.
Without another word, Sulli braves this foreign place and crawls back into bed, hanging onto the familiar animal. Coconut welcomes her with a lick to the cheek.
I know life is different with a baby. The little things and the bigger things, but I smile at every new moment, every crazy second. I wouldn’t trade a thing.
{ 24 }
October 2021
Dalton Elementary
Philadelphia
LOREN HALE
Career Day.
Moffy needed to bring one of us to school, just to speak about our job field in front of his classmates and other parents. In prep school, I plagiarized papers, refused to do presentations (even if they were worth half of my grade), and I cheated on exams by slipping answers up the sleeve of my shirt.
I’m not exactly the person you want to show off to your teacher or the person you want speaking in a room full of children. Lily and public speaking—they don’t go well together either. She trips over her words and starts sweating.
To see who’d attend Career Day, we did the mature thing and played rock-paper-scissors.
I lost.
So I’m sitting in the tiniest plastic chair, a line of them pushed against the wall for parents. We all wait our turn.
If you told me at twenty—ten goddamn years ago—that I’d be here, today, giving a speech to my six-year-old’s kindergarten class, I’d have laughed at you. Then I would’ve reminded you that I’d never have a child and subject them to a life of pain and misery.
To a life with me.
My old self is sitting apathetically in the back of the classroom, wishing this day would end. While I sit up at the front and wish today would last just a little longer.
Paper ghosts dangle from the ceiling. Painted pumpkins taped to the windows. A bowl of candy corn sits on the teacher’s desk. It just reminds me that my thirtieth birthday and Halloween will be here soon.
I’m sandwiched between a doctor in blue scrubs and a stockbroker in a suit. I wear jeans and a black V-neck shirt. This might be a private school, all the parents upper-class, but it’s clear that I’m the odd one out.
It has nothing to do with my goddamn clothes and everything to do with being famous. They’ve seen my face on magazines, television, and the internet.
I hold onto the fact that the children might not recognize me. Unless their parents let them on the internet without parental controls. Or watch reality TV—which would be doubtful. Our docu-series is uncensored on cable.
Ryke is no longer bleeped every four words.
I scan the desks. Two kids stare at me hardcore. Either they haven’t been taught it’s rude or they don’t give a shit. Maybe their parents subscribe to tabloids and they’ve seen my face in the pages.
I flash the driest half-smile, my features cutting like blades with that one action.
Their eyes bulge and they sink lower in their chairs.
Don’t pick on my kid, I’m thinking. He has to deal with enough, and I know what it feels like to have guys running after you in the hallways.
I feel the heat of a parent’s glare beside me. They’ve all been sizing me up and down since I walked in the goddamn room. For Christ’s sake, they’ve been watching me instead of the parent who speaks. I’m more uncomfortable because these aren’t strangers.
They’re the parents of Moffy’s peers, maybe even his friends.
I’ll never say this to Rose…but I wish she could be here. She’s stuck in another room down the hall. There are only four kindergarten classes at Dalton, and Jane and Moffy were unluckily split up.
“So when you’re older and you need your teeth nice and straight,” an orthodontist explains, “you’ll come to me.” He smiles wide, showing off his pearly whites. Everyone claps, and my nerves shift.
“Thank you, Dr. Ellis. That was very informative.” The teacher checks her list.
I fear mostly that I’ll do or say something to worsen Moffy’s situation. With Jonathan Hale as my dad, I learned to antagonize the people that hurt me, some that even tried to help me. Cut them up. Spit them out. I’d rather Moffy try to make friends than enemies, and I’m an influence on which way he goes.
I get it.
I crack some of my knuckles, and my nervous energy piles up at the teacher’s incoming words.
“Next is Maximoff’s father. Everyone give Mr. Hale a nice welcome.” She claps and the kindergarteners follow suit.
I slowly rise.
Moffy is already out of his chair before the teacher even says, “Maximoff, come and introduce your father to the class.” He wears a charcoal gray Sorin-X shirt and a Rylin Water’s wristband, all superheroes from The Fourth Degree.
As soon as he stops by my side, his bright face smothers every dark emotion inside of me. He has the biggest overpowering smile, three of his top teeth missing, and his eyes shine with some sort of pride. Of me. Jesus. My son is proud of me.
I’m not sure what for, but it almost rocks me back.
“This is my daddy.” Moffy motions to me with his thumb. “He’s got two jobs.” He holds up two fingers. “He owns Hale Co. and Halway Comics. The baby stuff is alright but the comics are soooo cool, and my mommy owns this café and comic book store where all the comics go. She’s awesome.”
Lily is going to freak out when I tell her this. That just made today worth every goddamn thing.
Moffy tilts his head up to me. “Alright, Daddy, it’s your turn.”
He hugs my side, I squeeze back, and then he returns to his seat.
Tone down your voice. It’s all I think right now.
Tone down my edged, I’m-going-to-kill-you voice. So I clear my throat once before I smile—a half-smile. Great.
I look to Moffy, and his lively smile never vanishes.
I can do this.
“Like Moffy said,” I tell the class, “the baby stuff is alright. The really neat thing is working with comics for a living.” My voice is harsh but not terrible. I can do this. “For my job, artists and writers submit comics they want to see in print. I have to choose which ones my publishing company will pick up. From there, I have a team that specializes in marketing, editing, design and merchandise. Like making action figures and posters.”
A little girl with brown pigtails raises her hand.
I point at her. “What’s up?”
“Do you have any girl superheroes?” she wonders.