“Abby is a very sweet girl.”
“Thank you.” I sniffed. “I never wanted to be a single parent. I’m doing the best I can.”
“That’s all anyone can ask,” she said. “Thank you for coming in today.”
I nodded and stood up. “Please let me know if you have any further concerns.”
“Will do.”
I collected Abby in the hall, and we walked to the car. It had finally stopped raining, but the air was damp and chilly, and I shivered as we crossed the parking lot. “Brrr. Cold today, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.” She swung her lunch bag back and forth. “Did Mrs. Lowry tell you about the kiss?”
So much for opening with the weather. “Yes. She did.”
“It was Robert. He didn’t like it very much.”
“That doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, Abby. But six-year-old boys don’t really want to be kissed by girls.” We reached the car, and I unlocked it. “And kissing isn’t allowed at school.”
“Okay.” She climbed in and I buckled her seatbelt.
“So you know not to do that again, right?” I asked.
“Yeah.” She was silent on the ride home, but as soon as I pulled into the garage, she said, “Kids at my school say your uncle can’t marry your mom. You said it was okay.”
“I did,” I said carefully, “but only in certain situations. And even then, it’s very, very unusual.”
“Oh.”
“And it’s not really something you should talk about at school, okay? It’s a grownup thing.”
“Okay.”
We went inside and I got her a snack, which she ate at the kitchen table. I made a cup of tea and sat with her, asking her about her day and what she’d learned. She seemed unscathed by the incident at school, which was more than I could say for myself. I couldn’t help seeing it as part of a larger pattern indicating my life was off track somehow, another sign that I was making bad choices, fucking things up.
While Abby was at gymnastics class, I called Tess, but it went to voicemail. I thought about calling Margot or Georgia, but I didn’t want to bother them. I wanted to call Wes, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I didn’t want to be dependent on him, and besides, he’d only tell me everything was going to be fine, when really, he didn’t know that at all. No one did.
But when he called me later that night, I answered. It was almost ten, and I’d just gotten in bed.
“Hello?”
“Hey, you.”
I hadn’t heard his voice all day, and I’d missed it. I didn’t want to miss it. “Hi.”
“How was your day?”
“It was okay.” I told him about the incident with Abby at school.
He found it much more amusing than I did, chuckling a little. “She actually tried to kiss the kid?”
“Yes. It’s not funny, Wes. She’s still confused. And she’s talking about us at school.”
“So what? What do we care what a bunch of kindergarteners think?”
He’s dismissing my feelings. “What about her teacher?”
“What about her? Sounds like she just wanted some background on Abby so she could better understand the situation.”