the boys wake up, I’m thrilled. It’s Wednesday—preschool day. Max and Oliver go to preschool three days a week. Three glorious days a week that I can pretend I’m someone else for a few hours. Why don’t I take a class or two toward the anthropology Ph.D. program I started before all of this started? Because, I’d be able to take a class while they were at school and then have precisely zero time to do any work, or research, or anything.
“Mommy. Mommy!” A tow-headed little boy bounces in my face as I tie his shoe.
“Yes, Ollie honey, what is it?” He points to a red line on my arm. “Where that boo-boo come from?”
“The silly kitty,” I lie effortlessly with a smile on my face.
“Bad kitty!” Ollie shouts in Mittens’ face.
“Bad kitty!” Max joins in, using an empty paper towel tube as a sword to shoo the cat away.
“All right, boys, in the car you go. It’s time for school!”
I swear I sound more excited about it than they do. Because I am. I usher them out the door before they can do any more damage to my fall-guy. Poor Mittens. I smile a little as the sun beams off their golden hair. I chuckle whenever I really stare at their hair. It’s so blonde, and both Eric and I have dark, black hair. They look adopted.
Can you return adopted children?
* * *
“Fluid Mechanics, huh?” I chanced the encounter that day.
“Yeah.” He grinned as he held up the book to give me a better look at the cover.
“What the hell is fluid mechanics?” I asked over the bike rack separating our two benches.
He laughed. And I was hooked. Right there, on the sidewalk bench across from Judie’s Restaurant, I was hooked.
“It’s nothing, just a required course.”
“That’s some heavy stuff for such a gorgeous day. Can you even concentrate with all of this going on?” I held out my hands to show him all the people around us.
Then, he stood up. He walked over to me, gestured to the empty space next to me and said, “Can I sit? I’m sure the rest of these people don’t want to hear about fluid mechanics.”
“You can sit, but I don’t want to hear about fluid mechanics, either. It sounds absolutely dreadful.”
“I’m getting my master’s degree in chemical engineering. Nothing I can do about these courses. I like to get outside once in a while,” he laughed, “I could stare at this book for hours in a library, but that’s probably not healthy.”
I turned my body toward his and let myself take him in. He was an oxymoron. I’d assumed it was just moron by his UMass t-shirt. Let me say, it isn’t really fair—UMass is a great school. And, I was enrolling there for graduate school. But, when you’re in Mount Holyoke land all year, you just come to think of everyone else as idiots. Either way, he didn’t look like any science doctoral student I’d come to expect. He was quite tall; his shoulders were a few inches above my 5’9” frame as we sat. His hair was as black as mine, but his eyes were a perfect honey brown that had darker flecks around the iris. They matched his well-tanned skin, whatever they were.
“Do you go to Amherst?” he asked.
“What, I can’t go to UMass?” I teased while tugging playfully at his t-shirt.
“With those clothes?” He smirked at my knee-length skirt and polo. No, I wasn’t wearing a mini skirt and Uggs, I suppose. “You’re Amherst material . . . or . . .” He looked at me with a cautious grin.
I chuckled. “Yep. Mount Holyoke. I’m Natalie, by the way.” I stuck out my hand. Apparently, we both had presumptions about students in the Five-College area.
“Eric Johnson.” He flashed me a huge smile as he tightly gripped my hand. “So, Mount Holyoke. When do you graduate?”
“Actually, next month.”
His smile seemed to fade for a second before he brightened with a follow-up question. “Plans for after?”
A foolish grin captivated me. I was suddenly even more excited to be attending UMass in the fall.
“Yeah,” I smiled wider, “I’m starting my master’s in anthropology in the fall.” I pointed in the direction of the massive campus behind his shoulder.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, smile still on his face. We were flirting. Eric was the first guy I’d flirted with since I broke up with Ryker.
No. Don’t ruin this. Don’t think about Ryker. Ever.