Aftertaste - Meredith Mileti [97]
“I thought you told me I should stick to food.”
“You probably should, but I’m desperate.”
“I don’t get it. What’s the point of learning these when you just have to relearn new ones next year?”
“The point is an end to my spinsterhood. That’s the point.”
Although Chloe always seems to enjoy the Gymboree classes, in the last few weeks it seems as if she’s come to anticipate them as well. This morning as we make the turn onto Forbes Avenue and head toward the JCC, her little body strains, and she begins giggling. Then, when we get out into the gym, she looks around intently, searching for Carlos most likely, who by now, because of my growing friendship with Ruth, has become a regular fixture in her world. It seems that Chloe, if not her mother, has begun to build a life in Pittsburgh.
This morning they’ve set up what they call a “water center,” really just a plastic baby pool with some Dixie cups, a bunch of floating Ping-Pong balls, and a few rubber duckies. I’m in the process of wrapping Chloe in a waterproof smock when, to my surprise, we are joined by Eli, who rolls up his sleeves, grabs a smock from the hook, and toddles toward his father, who is by the door filling out a name tag. Funny, hadn’t Ruth mentioned that Neil was out of town on business?
Perhaps it’s because I now know his story, but there’s something incredibly touching about seeing Neil, a tall man, on bended knee with his arms wrapped around his son. I watch as Neil gently guides Eli’s head through the neck of the smock and ties the strings in the back. Then, before he stands, he kisses the top of Eli’s head and ruffles his red curls. Neil’s hair is a sandy color, flecked with silver, making me wonder if Sarah had red hair.
Neil and Eli join us at the water table, where Chloe is in the process of hoarding all of the rubber ducks. Eli approaches the table and makes a gentle attempt to wrest one from her tight-fisted grasp. When I move to intervene, Neil stops me. “No, don’t. You’ve got to respect the Toddler’s Manifesto.”
“The Toddlers have a Manifesto?” I ask, surprised.
“Yes. It starts: ‘If I had it first, it’s mine.’”
“What’s the rest?”
“If I want it, it’s mine. If it looks like mine, it’s mine. If I had it five minutes ago and I want it back, it’s still mine. If you lose it and I find it, it’s mine. The toddlers express it much more elegantly, of course, but you get the idea. I’m surprised you don’t know it,” Neil says, looking down at me with a smile.
“No, they really have to start inviting me to their meetings. And anyway, technically, Chloe’s still an infant,” I tell him, taking two of the rubber ducks from Chloe and offering them to Eli. Chloe wails in protest.
“Well, then, you’ve got yourself a precocious child, I see.”
I smile at him.
“You’re Mira, right?”
I nod.
“I’m Neil,” he says, offering his hand, which I take. His palm is cool and dry.
“Of course, I remember.” Just then, Neil’s phone begins to ring. He releases my hand and reaches into his pants pocket to answer it.
It’s a business call. Neil covers the receiver with his hand and mouths, “Excuse me,” while I join the kids at the water table and make a show of splashing around with them and pretending not to listen. After a few minutes, Neil hangs up and rejoins us.
“Haven’t you heard, you shouldn’t keep those in your pocket?” I ask him, bending low to reroll Chloe’s damp sleeves.
Neil hangs his head and laughs. “Yes, just don’t tell my mother. She’s got her sights set on additional grandchildren.”
Without really intending to, the four of us spend the rest of the class together. I tell myself it’s because, despite their initial tussle over the ducks, Chloe and Eli seem to get along very well.
“What can I say? He’s a day care kid. He plays well with others,” Neil tells me when I comment on what an easy child Eli seems to be.
“It’s nice you can at least take part of the day off to do this, though.”
“I’ve worked part-time since Eli was born. Well, not