It’s early for Anastasia to be awake. I hurriedly gulp down the rest of my smoothie and go up the stairs to check on her. I am getting her privately tutored at the moment because it feels too dangerous to put her in a public school with the media storm going on.
This means that there’s always something to do at home just like at work and I don’t think I’ve ever been so terribly stressed in my life. Not even our nanny, Angie, can relieve the burden well enough for me to get space to breathe. I’m worried that Ana only plays with kids in the reading group that Anastasia takes her to.
If only Anabelle was still alive. If only there was someone I could talk to about how hard everything is and how it feels like no matter how hard I work I can never catch up with everything that I need to do.
I miss her every day.
I remember how happy we were when she got pregnant, how hopeful she was for the family that we were building together. I remember the tired laughter when we had to figure out which of us was going to get up when Ana cried and how Belle refused to change diapers for three months straight.
Life was good, life was the best it had ever been. Then one day she just fell down and didn’t get back up. Blood clot in her brain. She died before the ambulance even arrived.
Anastasia was nearly two and I have been so lonely ever since. I love my daughter with all my heart but the only adult company I have left are my staff, and that’s not enough.
I peek my head into Ana’s room and I can’t help smiling a little at her outraged face. She’s found the clothes I’ve set out from her and by the look of it her majesty does not approve. “Morning, honey.”
“Mommy, this will not do,” she says firmly. “I am not wearing my pink skirt with this.”
The item referred to with such disdain is a black t-shirt with a dragon on it. I pick it up solemnly and put it back in the dresser. “Okay, what do you want to pick out then?”
“My princess top!”
“We’re washing that, honey. You have to pick something else.”
Out comes the pout and I have to stifle a giggle. Maybe I’m biased but I think my daughter is the cutest person on the earth. She starts rummaging through her dresser and the doorbell goes.
“That will be Angie,” I say. “I’ll go let her in, hon.”
Angie is a pretty good nanny. She’s small and red-haired and has a temper but that temper never comes out around Ana so it doesn’t cause a problem. She has a bad habit of name-dropping that she was friends with Tasha Clark, the up and coming artist. She also keeps insisting that I need to get laid.
Sure, I’ll get laid. The moment I can find someone who isn’t just after my money, or that moment I realize that I can go on a date where I don’t spend every second thinking about Anabelle. Then I’ll get laid and be happy about it.
It’s a common theme from my PA Jordan as well, bitching that I need to get laid, and I swear the next time one of them drops an ever so subtle hint that maybe I should get back out on the dating circuit, I’m going to fire someone. I check my phone and see the time.
Fuck, I’m late.
I let Angie in and cut through her latest story about her boyfriend. “I’ve got to run, Angie. Don’t forget the itinerary and see if you can help Ana find something close to the princess top for her outfit today, okay?”
Angie looks a little annoyed but I don’t have time to care so I run to the staircase and shout my goodbyes before grabbing my things and hurrying out to my car. There really is no rest for the wicked. Even if they’re only wicked in the eyes of the media and a few disgruntled employees.
Three
Rachel
I open up the shop for the day and take a deep breath. The sun is shining in through the windows, and I’m in my happy place surrounded by books.
I try to hold onto that feeling as I get everything else ready. I know I’ll have to turn everything over to Candy, my new assistant, soon. I try to linger as long as possible, but I can’t keep Edna waiting.
Eventually, I know I have to turn it over to Candy or I’ll be late. I tell her I’ll be back soon and head up the street to the tea shop.
It’s a cute shop. I usually like going there. There’s quirky little kettles everywhere, and it smells amazing. Still, I can’t say that I love the reason why I’m here.
Edna smiles when she sees me. I wave and sit down across from her.
Edna is someone I met at my old apartment. She lives in an apartment that I used to be across the hall from. She’s an accountant, and I’m very appreciative that she’s doing me this favor.
“Hello, Rachel,” she says as I sit down.
“Hi, Edna. How are you?”