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REINER
Remember, four o’clock, Becky’s voice rang in my head as I waited for the pups‘ daycare to
open to pick them up.
Needless to say, the very next moment, my phone vibrated: it was a text from her, reminding me of the daycare’s tight schedule policy. One minute late in the morning meant not letting them in: and every minute late in retrieving them, was a 1 dollar penalty.
You’re already there, aren’t you?
Yes, since 3:40, I reassured her. They’ll open any minute.
A few seconds passed.
Okay – I shouldn’t be late tonight.
Take it easy and take your time. I’ll see you later.
The next moment, the school bell rang: the kindergarten door opened automatically, and I followed the stream of parents, grandparents, and babysitters inside the school.
The children’s daycare was a great place – big bright spaces, lots of toys, and a big garden for them to play in. Just that had made me well disposed to pay half the bloodletting that was school fees – but what had made me truly happy to pay was the security. There was a police patrol outside the entrance at every hour, a camera system to which parents were invited to stream in to see their little ones, and the teachers were qualified to handle emergencies of any
kind.
Becky had chosen the very best, for them. And I could only be happy about that.
“DADDY!”
Suddenly, I was hit by a little blond tornado, clinging to my neck like a little monkey.
“Hi, baby!” I smiled, pulling my Violet up as Jim joined us. I picked him up too, and held them tightly. “Well? Did you have a good time?”
“YEAH!” Jim exclaimed.
“Amazing. Go get your stuff, I’ll have a chat with Ms. Francesca and then we’ll go home“.
The kids nodded and ran to go get their backpacks while their teacher gave me a quick rundown of their day: as always, everything had gone well, my kids were among the best
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behaved in the school, and all the teachers loved them.
Within five minutes, Vi, Jim, and I were out of kindergarten and headed home: unfortunately it was raining, otherwise I would have kept them outside for a while. As we walked down the block that separated us from the building, they told me about their day – emphasizing how much they had enjoyed the tomato pasta from lunch.
“Then we’d better make it one of these days. Shoes and jackets off, guys,” I said, opening the
door to Becks‘ apartment. I had no desire to scrub the floors, and if those two brats came in
with dirty and wet shoes, I’d have to.
“YES MAKE IT DADDY!”
The kids burst into the house, running to the couch and throwing themselves on it, beginning
to fight over the remote two seconds later.
“Guys,” I said aloud, trying to bring them back to order. “Be nice and choose something
together, or I will – and you won’t like it.”
“Why what do you choose Daddy?” Jim asked.
“The outdoor lighting infomercials.”
Fortunately, the veiled threat to condemn them to an afternoon of infomercials worked: within two minutes, they had stopped warring with each other and chosen something to watch
together.
Meanwhile, I made them a snack: Becks had made a fantastic apple pie the night before, so I cut three slices, accompanying them with some cinnamon–dusted milk ice cream and a bowl of raspberries. Luckily, James and Violet were not picky eaters – at least with fruit. Violet used to fuss a bit with vegetables, but I’d gotten her to eat more lately. I’d never forget Becky’s astonished look when, a few nights earlier, she had come home to find our daughter eating, cheerfully and unceremoniously, a bowl of vegetable soup bigger than her head.
The benefits of having an amazing cook as a dad, I guess, I had teased her. Both Becks and I had fun in the kitchen – and ever since we had known each other, we had always challenged each other to culinary competitions to determine who, among us, was the best.
A dangerous spark had lit in her eyes – a spark that declared that the challenge was open
again.
Her answer had been that apple pie.
Okay, I thought, tasting my slice sprawled out on the couch with my pups snuggled on each
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side. On the apple pie you win, Becks.
“Daddy we’re really going to the woods tomorrow?” Violet asked, with a big smile and eyes sparkling with anticipation.
I nodded, as ecstatic and excited as she was: the next morning, all four of us would be off for
a lovely weekend at Becky’s cabin.
“This is the first time we all go together,” Jim observed.
“That’s right,” I confirmed – not bothering to keep my excitement at bay. “It’s our very first
family outing.”
The kids didn’t seem to understand how truly important this was: after all, they were only
three and there was their favorite cartoon on TV – not to mention that wonderful apple pie,
which was a great distraction.
For me, though, it was important. It was the icing on a cake consisting of six weeks of pure
bliss.
Since the lunch at Becks‘ house a month and a half earlier, where we’d made arrangements for
joint custody of the kids, my life had become… simply amazing.
I saw my pups, with whom I had forged a wonderful bond, every day – I cared for them every day, and our routine was perfect to keep me from thinking about… well, all the unpleasant things in my life, which fortunately, now, were several thousand miles away.
Becky was the only one among us who worked full–time (or just worked, since I still had no employment), so our arrangement was based mainly on her work schedule: she took them to kindergarten in the morning every day except Thursdays, while I picked them up every day except Fridays: that day, which was usually her day off, we picked them up together, because we had decided that Friday night would be our family night. That particular Friday, however, she had had to work – an exceptionally difficult bride, she had grumbled that morning on the
phone.
Usually, Becks worked from home, along with Sienna, one of New York’s many Rogues and her business partner, not to mention her best friend right after Wayne and Ravi (the little ones called her Aunt Sienna): sometimes, I had to stay longer with the kids if she was late. This didn’t constitute the slightest problem for me – not only because every extra moment with them was a gift, but because now I didn’t even have to commute for an hour and a half to reach them: by an immense stroke of luck, I’d found an apartment right above Becky and the kids. The previous owner had been tremendously eager to sell it to go on a permanent spiritual retreat in Thailand or something like that, so I had been able to pull a little on the
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price: before finalizing the purchase, of course, I had asked Becky if she was okay with it. After all, although we had a civil relationship that was veering more and more toward friendship, I’d feared that moving not only into the same building as her, but so close to her, might make her feel cornered, or oppressed: this, however, had not happened. She’d been happy that I had found a place so quickly, and especially close to the kids: you’ll never be late for daycare this
way, she had joked.
The house had not been handed over to me in exactly perfect condition -which had fueled
my
suspicions that the previous owner was not exactly going on a spiritual retreat – but luckily my father had taught me several things during my Alpha apprenticeship: fixing stuff around the house and occasionally having to rebuild some stuff was one of them. So I had started working on the house, occasionally helped not only by Mark, but also by Wayne and Ravi (Ravi, it had to be said, had always been fairly neutral toward me – something that could not be said of Wayne, who by now had calmed down), but also from some of the New York Rogues that Becks, Mark and the two of them had introduced me to: just as she had told me,
it was a nice community, tight but not oppressive.
From time to time, I’d bring the kids up: of course, the house was not yet in suitable condition for them to spend time there (only the kitchen and bathroom were ready, and my bed was an
air mattress), but they loved coming to see how the place was changing and growing into a house, so we used to take little trips (short ones, because Becky was scared to know them around what she called “my deadly toys,”, aka work tools) where I’d show them what the
house would look like once finished and where their bedrooms would be.
Overall, my life was great. And it was my pups and Becks, who made it so.
A couple of hours later, my phone rang: Becks was calling.
Knowing how much the kids hated to be disturbed while watching TV, I released myself from
their grip and moved to the kitchen.
“Everything okay?”
“I think I’m going to be late,” Becky huffed. “This b***h is driving me crazy. She’s keeping me
here for a load of crap. It’s almost a k********g by now“.
I giggled. “Tell her to go screw herself. You can’t possibly miss Friday’s pizza.”
Becks chuckled, too. “Don’t tempt me, damn you.”
That tone, so familiar, so affectionate … brought back sweet memories, and at the same time,
made my heart clench.
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“Hey, remember, you’re the most sought–after planner in New York,” I suggested to her. ” Remind her that you’re not in short supply of clients.”
Becky was silent for a few seconds. “You know what? I really think I will.”
I couldn’t help but smile.
“We’ll be waiting for you, then. See you“.
“Bye, Reiner“.
Knowing that it wouldn’t take too long for her to get home, I went with the children to my
house to retrieve the pizza dough from the refrigerator, which I had set out to rise that morning. Once back at Becks‘, I started making the bases for the pizzas, while the kids set out
on the living room carpet to play with their memory cards.
After a while, however, I heard Violet protest.
“Oof – I can’t!”
“Vi?” I called her, startled. “Everything alright, baby?”
“I can’t read it Daddy!” she said.
It was only then that I noticed that she was holding a slip of paper.
Weren’t they playing memory?
“Honey, where did you get that?” I asked, walking over to her.
Violet pointed to the tall library: recently, Becky had, with my help, installed an obstacle course for the cat on the wall, with the result that he was now jumping all over the place.
“Moses dropped it from up there,” she explained. “And I caught it and I was trying to read it the way you and Mommy taught me but it’s not spelled right …”
Intrigued, I glanced at the sheet in her hand – but when I saw the first three words, my stomach froze.
My dearest Reiner.
That was a letter addressed to me – and the writing was Becky’s.
