Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“We’re here!” Ripley shouts from the backseat. She rips off her headphones and begins exuberantly unbuckling the straps of her car seat. But even when she’s untethered and bopping excitedly in her seat, Max and I don’t move. “What are we waiting for?” Ripley shrieks. “Come on, guys. I want to show Maxy everything.”
15
MAX
As Marnie helps her kid slide down from the back seat of the SUV, I exit my side of the vehicle in stunned silence, my limbs sabotaged by the images currently wracking my brain. I can’t stop seeing my father railing Marnie to within an inch of her life. Marnie’s orgasm face as he plows her from behind. Dad eating Marnie’s magic pussy. It’s all making me want to hurl. Either that or commit patricide. Maybe both.
As I’m standing stock-still and dazed next to the car, a little hand slides into mine, and a squeak of a voice chirps out, “Come on, Maxy-Milly. I can’t wait to show you everything.” The kid attached to the voice and the hand begins pulling on me with all her little might, so I somehow command my lead legs and move in the direction she’s clearly intending to guide me.
As the kid and I close in on the bright yellow front door of the preschool, Marnie thankfully hangs back. Honestly, I need space from her right now. I don’t think I could make eye contact with her in this moment, without flashing her a look of such disgust, I’d ruin all chances of convincing her to come to family camp with me. If that’s what I still want. I’m honestly not sure anymore.
“My best friend is Naomi,” the kid is saying happily, as she skips and bops alongside me with her hand in mine. “And my teacher is Miss Roberts. She’s pretty. Oh! And my cubby is da one with da purpole stars on it, cuz dat’s my favorite color and I’m a star. Did you know my favorite color is purpole? My cubby has my name at da top of it. R-I-P-L-E-Y. Dat’s what spells Ripley, but my whole name is Ripley Amelia Long.” On and on the kid rambles, despite my utter lack of any kind of verbal response. Unlike last night at dinner, I can’t muster the energy or focus to offer her so much as a grunt.
Once inside the preschool, Ripley immediately sets about showing me everything she just told me about in the parking lot while I maintain my silence and let her pull me around the colorful room. Marnie is standing by the front door as Ripley gives me a guided tour, I can’t help noticing. And again, I’m relieved she’s giving me space to process.
“And dat’s where we have story time,” Ripley says proudly. “Miss Roberts rings da bell, and den we all sit on da story-time carpet!” She looks at me for a response, and when I don’t give one to her, she pulls me toward the next exciting thing. Apparently, this happy little chatterbox has enough energy and enthusiasm for both of us today.
After dragging me to her cubby, Ripley pulls me toward a little girl—a dark-skinned cutie with gorgeous braids and a bright smile. When we reach the girl, I can’t help noticing she’s quite a bit taller than Ripley, which then makes me realize that’s true of every kid milling about this classroom. As a matter of fact, almost everyone is a full head taller than tiny Ripley. What’s up with that? Is Ripley a kid-genius who’s enrolled in preschool way early?
“Maxy, dis is Naomi,” Ripley says, after giving her friend a warm hug. “She’s my best friend.” After Naomi shyly greets me, Marnie suddenly appears at my side, just in time to hear her daughter explain to her friend, “Gigi is Maxy’s mommy and Grampy loves Gigi, so Maxy is our friend now.”
For the first time since we exited Marnie’s car in the parking lot, I look at Marnie. And the second I see the look of agony on her face, I feel my body light up with the primal urge to protect her. To ease her pain. I lean toward her and whisper, “And you were so sure my presence in the kid’s life would be confusing to her. Seems to me she understands the situation perfectly.”
In one sense, it’s a small thing for me to have teased Marnie. To have spoken to her in a calm yet snarky tone. In another sense, though, in context, it’s a massive thing. I’ve let Marnie know there might be a possible path forward for me to treat her the same as before—to get past the bombshell she dropped on me in the parking lot. Hell, I think maybe, by breaking our awkward, uncomfortable silence this way, I’ve just now signaled the same thing to myself.