How Sweet It Is - Alice J. Wisler [71]
Miriam opens a binder, takes a page from it, and closes it. “Oh, and Robert. He went last year and enjoyed it.”
I can’t fathom that Robert enjoys camping with the kids. He’s married and has two kids of his own. Why would he want to spend time away from his family with these wayward children?
When Miriam answers her ringing desk phone, I gaze out her office window at a cluster of lopsided pinecones and ponder the situation. The kids want to go camping in the Smoky Mountains National Park. They’ve asked Miriam if I will join them. I don’t have to, do I? Grandpa Ernest didn’t put in his will that I have to go on the camping event, did he? I went camping once with Sally’s parents and brother. I remember waking up to wetness. It had rained, the ground was mushy, and my sleeping bag was soggy.
Miriam ends the phone conversation and continues to riffle through her desk, looking for something. I look at her green tennis shoes and decide she wears them for comfort, and in case she has to run fast away from some angry parent like Darren’s mother.
I hear Zack telling the kids good-bye outside of the office as the parents and guardians pick up each child. I overhear Darren saying, “I hope I don’t have to see my mom this weekend,” to which Zack replies, “Don’t worry. She’s not supposed to come to your grandma’s unless she calls me first.” Then I hear Rhonda’s soprano voice, talking to Zack, giggling. I hear their footsteps as they walk down the hall away from Miriam’s office.
When all is quiet, Miriam says, “Oh, Zack usually comes, too. We try to have two men and two women. More, if we can get them.”
Zack goes camping with the kids. Of course. No surprise there.
“Think about it,” Miriam says as she crams a folder into her briefcase. “Oh.” She notices the pitcher of half-and-half on the edge of her desk. “Would you take this cream back to the fridge for me?” She hands me the pitcher.
“I’ll take the coffeepot, too,” I say. “And wash it out.”
“That would be nice. Thank you.” Quickly, she stands and lifts her briefcase. “I hope this board meeting is a good one. I hope all the financing comes through for The Center.”
I tell her that I hope that is the case, too.
As she leaves, she says, “Thanks, Deena. And please do consider the camping trip.” Then she’s gone, her tennis shoes making squishy sounds along the narrow hallway.
I am thinking about tents and saturated sleeping bags as I enter the kitchen with the pitcher and coffeepot in my hands. When I swing open the door with my shoulder, I see Zack. He’s standing in the arms of Rhonda. Her arms are snuggly placed around his neck. Their faces are inches from each other.
“Excuse me,” is all I can say. Balancing the coffeepot and pitcher in one hand, I open the fridge with the other.
The two pull away from each other and awkwardly look at me in silence. I shove the pitcher and the coffeepot onto a shelf in the fridge and exit as quickly as I entered.
As fast as I can, I walk to the bathroom so that I can be alone. No, no, no, my mind says over and over. I stand in front of the mirror and see my sad eyes, eyes that had looked so hopeful after the day I spent in the hospital with Zack. Of course he cares about someone else, I almost say aloud. Of course.
All those smiles at me, I took them the wrong way. All those conversations about me opening up my heart and sharing myself with the kids and with him. Those were just bullet points to pep talks he probably gives everyone. He only cares about the kids… and Rhonda.
I am faced with the reality that I am not special to anyone.
Not Lucas.
Not Zack.
thirty-three
Ibake a cinnamon breakfast cake just because I know this buttery delicacy will help brush away my fears. At least while I’m eating it. I can’t guarantee that it will erase all my insecurities. It’s not that big of a cake. I use the nine-inch pan from my good-bye party at