Page 16

S ounds of war wafted through the air of my apartment, muffled by the boys’ closed door. I held my hand above the steel pan on the stove—warm, but not yet hot. Then I returned to the head of cabbage I’d been chopping for tonight’s stir-fry.

Adam would pick out the shrimp and noodles, abandoning anything that grew in a garden. Micah would eat some of the cabbage and carrots when they stuck to his noodles. There was no reason to bother adding broccoli.

Two days had passed since I’d met up with Carson at The Blue Whisper. I’d talked to Carson on the phone twice yesterday, and once today, on my lunch break. And here I was, thinking about calling him again.

Instead of relishing the time I had with my boys, I felt guilty that Carson was at the house, on summer break, while the boys were at my apartment and I was at work today. They should have been together.

We all should have been together.

My phone dinged. I immediately dropped what I was doing to see if it was a text from Carson.

It was Daisy, so that was good, too.

Daisy: We can’t miss our group check-in. I know you’re busy since your boys are with you, Erika. And I know you’re suffering somewhere hard to reach, Tess, because of Doomface. So let’s text check-in?

Tess: *shakes fists at the sky while shouting “Doomface!”

I chuckled.

Daisy: My girls think we should call it our Chext-in

Tess: I second the motion

Me: Third

Daisy: Haha okay then.

Daisy: News here—Tyler shoved a Monopoly piece up his nose

I snorted. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Tyler was her child, instead of one of the middle-aged men she worked with. The other, Nick, behaved equally as immaturely.

Me: Why?

Daisy: He and Nick decided it would be a fun contest

Me: Tell me Nick didn’t do it, too

Daisy: I wish I could

Tess: What piece?

There was no good answer to that question.

Daisy: When the dog got stuck in Tyler’s nostril, Nick put a piece in each. One’s the thimble. The other one hasn’t come out yet, so it’s a mystery

Tess: So you had to take those idiots to the hospital

Daisy: I had to take the idiots to the hospital

Me: Feels like Risk would be a better fit for their game than Monopoly, for the game title alone

Daisy: Never say that in front of them

Tess: The pieces are smaller

Daisy: Then they’ll just stack them in two at a time.

Me: Haha gross

Tess: And pointy, what with the little swords the soldiers hold

Daisy: I wish that meant they’d learn their lesson.

Me: They wouldn’t

Daisy: Probably not

Poor Daisy. At least her girls—actual children—didn’t stick things up their noses.

Tess: Erika, we need an update on the witches

Daisy: And Carson. How did it go the other night at the jazz club? I can’t believe you haven’t reached out to tell us sooner!

Fair. I would want to know if I’d been in their place. I’d just been so wrapped up in what happened, and work, that I hadn’t thought to call.

Me: I should have!

Me: Everything is resolved with the witches

Tess: No visits to the forest?

Me: Not in five days. No threats, no ghostly figures

Me: They’re happy with the segment about them that we aired. The crayon witch wants me to do a daily feature of adoptable pets from their animal shelter.

I glanced toward the pink envelopes on the counter. They’d been addressed to me and delivered to WNCR. Each contained a photo of a cat or dog, with pertinent and personality details, and a short note promising that Imogen would keep them coming.

Every day.

Just in case.

Daisy: It is a good cause. If you think it’s safe

Tess: Safest choice is no contact

Daisy: What are you going to do?

Me: I haven’t decided yet

After a quiet minute, another text came in.

Daisy: What about the jazz club? I’m dying to know

Tess: If it was heartbreaking, and you want us to hate on Carson, we can do that, too

Daisy: I bet Carson proclaimed his undying love

Tess: Daisy

I could hear the scolding tone in Tess’s text, like she was elbowing Daisy to shut up so as not to potentially rub salt in my wounds. But I had no such weakness, only joy.

Me: He did

Tess: !!!!

Daisy: I knew it!

“Mom,” Adam called through the closed bedroom door. “Hey, Mom.”

“Yeah?” I hollered back.

“Come here.”

“Just a minute.” I shook my head and smiled. I knew I wasn’t supposed to enjoy being summoned, but I did.

Adam yelled, “I need to show you something.”

I shot one final text to my friends.

Me: We kissed. We’ve been talking. I think we’re going to get back together, but we haven’t explicitly worked that out yet. Sorry to drop this and then go, but Adam’s calling 3

Dings followed as I set my phone on the counter and headed down the hall. I was grateful I hadn’t put any food in the pan yet. I was also grateful for the chext-in over a regular check-in call so instead of missing the conversation, I could catch up later.

Booming explosions and gunfire sounds grew louder the closer I got to the boys’ room. Engines roared. A techno bass beat wove the noises all together. If I had to guess, whatever game they were playing was some sort of driving war party. Not that I had any idea how that would work.

Beneath the sounds of the game, the boys were debating in hushed tones.

Whatever that was about, they clearly didn’t agree, and they clearly didn’t want me to overhear them.

I knocked on the door.

All sounds stopped except for the music, which dropped to half volume. One of them had paused the game. Both of them had snapped their mouths shut.

“Come in,” Adam called.

I opened the door and found them each sitting on their beds, backs uncharacteristically straight, eyes glued to me.

I tried not to narrow my eyes or show any sign of suspicion at their strange behavior.

Adam gestured to the spot beside him at the edge of the bed. “Come sit.”

I did as he asked.

It felt like we were about to have a tense conversation, like I was in trouble, and he was about to list my offenses.

I was a little nervous.

Micah offered me a controller, the wired one that only half worked and had terrible joystick drift.

“Thanks.” I gladly accepted his offering. Mental note—buy a new wireless controller for Christmas. “What are we playing?”

“YeetLoot Royale,” Adam said.

“Try to keep up.” Micah’s tone implied there was no way I could do that. It also implied that my invitation may have been what the two of them were arguing about before I’d entered the room.

Adam went over the controls, but the boys were already moving. My character—a goblin with a snaggletooth and sagging boobs—began spinning in a slow circle before I even touched anything.

Halfway through the instructions, I forgot pretty much everything Adam had already told me. My focus was too intent on trying to stop spinning in circles.

I tried to keep what remained of Adam’s instructions in mind as I followed their avatars into a mess of color and violence. But, after we made it past the first area and into the next, I realized neither boy was the donkey I’d been following.

Adam barked a laugh and lurched forward.

Micah sighed, shook his head, and sank down against his headboard. His shaggy hair covered his eyes. His lip pouted in a way it never did when he was disappointed in his own performance.

The issue was definitely me.

“What?” I asked. “What am I doing wrong?”

“You’re running into the wall,” Adam said.

“No I’m not.” I pointed at the screen. “See?”

“That’s me.” Micah pointed. “That’s you.”

Oh.

Apparently I was running into a wall.

And then I exploded.

“The characters look too much alike,” I said. “There’s so much happening.”

“You’re a goblin. I’m a gnome. They’re nothing alike,” Micah said.

I set down the controller and raised my hands in defeat. If they wanted me to hang out, I’d gladly watch. It was probably better for all of us that way.

Adam pulled out his phone. He looked at me then looked at the phone. “It’s Dad.”

“You can talk to your dad anytime.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

Adam answered the phone, but kept his eyes on me.

I tried to play it cool, picked at my shorts, looked at the screen.

The gnome didn’t have sagging boobs. Micah was right, it looked pretty different than my goblin.

“Gaming. We’re going to eat soon,” Adam said.

“If he’s not busy, he can come by,” I said, a glimmer of hope and nerves twinkling in my chest.

“Mom said you should come over. Right now. She’ll wait for you,” Adam said.

I’d wait an eternity.

I forced myself to breathe and relax my tense shoulders.

“K. Bye.” Adam hung up.

“What did he say?” Micah asked.

“He’s coming.” Adam smiled.

Joy hit so fast and hard it felt like laughter trapped under my ribs. I bit my lip to keep from grinning too hard. The kids were looking at me, so I had to play it cool.

Beneath the thrum of excitement, a single thought sprouted— this could be our new beginning.

Micah sat up a little bit, letting a bit of his defeated vibe melt away.

I looked down at my outfit—yoga pants and a ribbed tank top. Both had seen better days. Should I change? Put on some lipstick? Brush my teeth?

“Okay, time to try again, Mom,” Adam said. “Let’s go.”

Carson had seen me looking exactly like this. He’d seen me looking far worse. He loved me exactly as I was. And if I got up now, I’d break the positive moment I was sharing with the boys.

I pushed down my concerns and followed Adam’s character in the game.

I didn’t crash into any walls.

I minimized the spinning in circles.

I kept my eyes on my goblin.

I still blew up.

Micah didn’t sigh this time. He said, “Hurry back or you’ll miss all the action.”

Missing all the action sounded like it would be a good thing. But, I couldn’t screw this up, so I’d try. I was so grateful for the chance to do something with them, on their terms, it didn’t matter how many times I blew up, I’d keep going back.

After a little while, Micah cleared his throat.

I felt the weight of his attention on me.

He asked, in a tone that made it seem like this was no big deal, “Any thoughts on hedgehogs?”