Lie, Lie Again - Stacy Wise Page 0,42
her part, sweeping crumbs from the corners of the kitchen and scrubbing the bathroom faucets to a shine. But there was nothing she could do about the smell coming from the broken garbage disposal. She gripped the wheel and told herself she was being petty. “Breathe, Embry,” she whispered.
She inhaled and exhaled. Better. Getting angry about things beyond her control was fruitless. But honestly! Sometimes she wished she could fall to the floor and bang her fists like a toddler. A good old-fashioned tantrum would do wonders. All this mindfulness crap was only making her shove down her feelings. One day she’d explode.
No, no, the angels whispered. Inhale, exhale. It took practice. She could do this.
A feeling crept around inside her, darting this way and that, making it so she couldn’t pin it down. What is it? She focused on the road ahead, wishing she had someone to talk to. She couldn’t call her friends back home because they’d faded into watercolor renditions of close friends. Time and distance had washed away the vibrancy. She’d tried to make some friends at the Mommy and Me class she’d joined when Kylie was first born, but that had been flat-out bizarre. They’d made her feel like a freak of nature, being that she was the only twenty-one-year-old mother in a sea of thirtysomethings. You got married at twenty? I didn’t even know who I was at that age. Or one of her favorites, Must’ve been a cinch for you to lose the baby weight. I was a rail in my twenties. Now it takes a lot of hard work.
She knew the other moms didn’t mean to make her feel like an outcast, but after months of being the token zoo animal, she’d stopped going to the meetings.
The feeling she’d had earlier banged its way to the front of her mind. Thinking about the other moms had made it reappear. She remembered the conversations where they’d openly shared their fears about losing their identity. They were no longer Janelle or Jodi or Christine; they were only so-and-so’s mom. Was that happening to her? She didn’t bother answering. The knowledge sat inside her like a stone. All that she had been was slipping from her grasp, and her own husband, the man who loved her for her spunk and spirit and spontaneity, hadn’t seemed to notice.
She shook her head, trying to dislodge the guilt she suddenly felt. Goodness, she loved being a mom. Mommy. Mama. All of it. She wouldn’t trade that for the world. Becoming a mother was the best thing she’d ever done in her life.
But was there room for more?
She pulled into one of the many open parking spots. Knowing it would be impossible to remain dry while getting the kids from the car, she slid an arm through her baby carrier and fastened Carson into it before helping Kylie unbuckle from her car seat.
Flipping up the hood on Kylie’s pink slicker, she took her hand. They’d gone no more than five steps before Kylie found a puddle to stomp in.
“Kylie! Don’t do that. You got my jeans all wet.”
She looked up at her with big blue eyes. “Sorry, Mama. I dry you off?” She brushed her hand along Embry’s leg, not aware it wasn’t helping.
Embry sighed. “It’s okay. Let’s get inside. I’ll let you pick the cereal.” She moved as fast as she could, keeping a hand pressed to Carson’s back so he wouldn’t get too jostled.
As they entered the store, Kylie spun in a circle. “Mama, I’m dancing like Daddy and Miss Riki!”
A chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran through Embry. “What do you mean, Kylie?”
“They dance and dance in the rain, Mama! Just like me.”
“When? Where?” The questions tumbled from her lips.
Kylie only shrugged and clomped in a giddy circle, clearly enjoying the squelching sound her boots made.
Embry took a breath and tried to reassure herself that kids sometimes got things wrong. But sometimes they get things perfectly right. With a shake of her head, she said, “Stop that right now, Kylie. We need a buggy.”
“I drive one too?”
“Not today.”
“Why?”
“Let’s go find the bread. Stay close to me.” Her voice was clipped, but the vision of Riki and Brandon having a good old time in the rain together had her head spinning. Carson spit out his pacifier and whimpered. His tiny body stiffened against her chest before he let out a big wail. She exhaled as he cried and forced herself to focus on