{"id":14719,"date":"2023-07-01T23:08:08","date_gmt":"2023-07-02T04:08:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/?p=14719"},"modified":"2025-11-14T12:20:17","modified_gmt":"2025-11-14T18:20:17","slug":"balloons","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2023\/07\/01\/balloons\/","title":{"rendered":"Balloons"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<ul class=\"wp-block-social-links is-content-justification-right is-layout-flex wp-container-core-social-links-is-layout-765c4724 wp-block-social-links-is-layout-flex\"><li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-facebook  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61556140010887\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12 2C6.5 2 2 6.5 2 12c0 5 3.7 9.1 8.4 9.9v-7H7.9V12h2.5V9.8c0-2.5 1.5-3.9 3.8-3.9 1.1 0 2.2.2 2.2.2v2.5h-1.3c-1.2 0-1.6.8-1.6 1.6V12h2.8l-.4 2.9h-2.3v7C18.3 21.1 22 17 22 12c0-5.5-4.5-10-10-10z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Facebook<\/span><\/a><\/li>\n\n<li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-instagram  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/boudin_mcneese\/\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12,4.622c2.403,0,2.688,0.009,3.637,0.052c0.877,0.04,1.354,0.187,1.671,0.31c0.42,0.163,0.72,0.358,1.035,0.673 c0.315,0.315,0.51,0.615,0.673,1.035c0.123,0.317,0.27,0.794,0.31,1.671c0.043,0.949,0.052,1.234,0.052,3.637 s-0.009,2.688-0.052,3.637c-0.04,0.877-0.187,1.354-0.31,1.671c-0.163,0.42-0.358,0.72-0.673,1.035 c-0.315,0.315-0.615,0.51-1.035,0.673c-0.317,0.123-0.794,0.27-1.671,0.31c-0.949,0.043-1.233,0.052-3.637,0.052 s-2.688-0.009-3.637-0.052c-0.877-0.04-1.354-0.187-1.671-0.31c-0.42-0.163-0.72-0.358-1.035-0.673 c-0.315-0.315-0.51-0.615-0.673-1.035c-0.123-0.317-0.27-0.794-0.31-1.671C4.631,14.688,4.622,14.403,4.622,12 s0.009-2.688,0.052-3.637c0.04-0.877,0.187-1.354,0.31-1.671c0.163-0.42,0.358-0.72,0.673-1.035 c0.315-0.315,0.615-0.51,1.035-0.673c0.317-0.123,0.794-0.27,1.671-0.31C9.312,4.631,9.597,4.622,12,4.622 M12,3 C9.556,3,9.249,3.01,8.289,3.054C7.331,3.098,6.677,3.25,6.105,3.472C5.513,3.702,5.011,4.01,4.511,4.511 c-0.5,0.5-0.808,1.002-1.038,1.594C3.25,6.677,3.098,7.331,3.054,8.289C3.01,9.249,3,9.556,3,12c0,2.444,0.01,2.751,0.054,3.711 c0.044,0.958,0.196,1.612,0.418,2.185c0.23,0.592,0.538,1.094,1.038,1.594c0.5,0.5,1.002,0.808,1.594,1.038 c0.572,0.222,1.227,0.375,2.185,0.418C9.249,20.99,9.556,21,12,21s2.751-0.01,3.711-0.054c0.958-0.044,1.612-0.196,2.185-0.418 c0.592-0.23,1.094-0.538,1.594-1.038c0.5-0.5,0.808-1.002,1.038-1.594c0.222-0.572,0.375-1.227,0.418-2.185 C20.99,14.751,21,14.444,21,12s-0.01-2.751-0.054-3.711c-0.044-0.958-0.196-1.612-0.418-2.185c-0.23-0.592-0.538-1.094-1.038-1.594 c-0.5-0.5-1.002-0.808-1.594-1.038c-0.572-0.222-1.227-0.375-2.185-0.418C14.751,3.01,14.444,3,12,3L12,3z M12,7.378 c-2.552,0-4.622,2.069-4.622,4.622S9.448,16.622,12,16.622s4.622-2.069,4.622-4.622S14.552,7.378,12,7.378z M12,15 c-1.657,0-3-1.343-3-3s1.343-3,3-3s3,1.343,3,3S13.657,15,12,15z M16.804,6.116c-0.596,0-1.08,0.484-1.08,1.08 s0.484,1.08,1.08,1.08c0.596,0,1.08-0.484,1.08-1.08S17.401,6.116,16.804,6.116z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Instagram<\/span><\/a><\/li><\/ul>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-large-font-size\"><strong>Balloons<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>Joan Bauer<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap has-medium-font-size\">When Sarah dropped Lily off around noon, she said she was just going to a half-hour tennis lesson. I invited her to come back here for coffee afterward, and she said she would like that. But she never came back.\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Outside, our two girls were happily scooping up leaves in the wheelbarrow under a cerulean sky, piling them at the base of the slide so they could crunch and scatter them when they landed. My Allie had managed to stuff the whole lower deck of the Rainbow gym full of leaves. It would probably take me an hour to clean it all out, but at least they were busy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I looked at my watch. Soon, I would have to wake up the baby so we could all walk over to St. Mary Mag\u2019s to pick up the boys. Most days, I brought Lily\u2019s big brother back here with my Sam so that Sarah could pick him up from our house. Yesterday, he had asked me why his mother never came over to school anymore. She will again, pretty soon, I told him. If it had been anyone else, I would have called her by now and said, \u201cwhere are you?\u201d But I hated to disturb this arrangement I had with Sarah. What if she took it away from me?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">                            \n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap has-medium-font-size\">I grew up in a house just three blocks away, and I went to St. Mary Mag\u2019s too as a child.&nbsp;That was back when the girls\u2019 uniform was blue, not red plaid, and the tuition was free. There were still quite a few of us lifers here in the neighborhood. At first, I was excited to send my own children back to the place where I used to jump rope with my cousin Patti, whose long hair I would braid over and over and who now had a boy of her own the same age as Sam.&nbsp;But she had moved with her husband back to New Jersey, so while I had hoped to recreate my own support system when we came back to St. Mary Mag\u2019s, I often stood there alone watching long-time friends pair up on the playground\u2014all the same people, in all the same little cliques.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was awful until I met Sarah. Last August, Caroline Mangan hosted a coffee for kindergarten parents at her house. I might never even have talked to Sarah at all if Caroline hadn\u2019t turned her back on me to hug someone else just as I was walking up. I don\u2019t think it was intentional, I really don\u2019t. But I was hurt, and I looked around to see Sarah holding Lily on her lap, dealing grimly with the powdered sugar donut Lily was eating and brushing her long blonde hair out of her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I sat down next to her while Allie helped herself to one of Caroline Mangan\u2019s oversized chocolate-chip cookies. Sarah was new in town; she\u2019d moved four hundred miles from home because her husband was involved in a bank merger, and she\u2019d enrolled her son Danny at St. Mary Magdalene a few days after the school year started. She\u2019d missed the summer social and all the new parent meetings. She was trying to navigate the whole place and its network of mothers pretty much on her own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sarah looked to be about six months pregnant, and so I was surprised when she told me the baby was due in just a few weeks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cSo, how\u2019ve you been feeling?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cNot great,\u201d she admitted, shifting her weight in her chair. I assumed she had varicose veins or something, and so I didn&#8217;t press her for details. Instead, I started talking cheerily about how much fun it was to have three.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI used to think I would never be able to handle it, but you do,\u201d I said reassuringly. \u201cI thought it was harder going from one to two than two to three.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThat&#8217;s a big adjustment,\u201d Sarah agreed. \u201cLily, stop it.\u201d Her tone was annoyed, surprisingly so. I always tried to modulate my own irritation with my children in front of people I didn&#8217;t know very well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I asked Sarah a lot of questions about the baby\u2014where it would sleep, whether she had names picked out. She answered me\u2014she had an answer for everything\u2014but there was no enthusiasm in her voice. I knew that pregnant women sometimes became depressed and even had personality changes, so I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. Later, I wondered what \u201cnormal\u201d Sarah might once have been like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cSo,\u201d I went on, \u201cwill you be nursing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sarah opened her mouth and then closed it again, looking stricken. And then Allie came running up to me, covered with chocolate. I took the oozing cookie out of her hand, holding her at arm&#8217;s length while I fished in my diaper bag for a baby wipe. \u201cHere, Allie,\u201d I said, working a baby wipe between her fingers. \u201cThat&#8217;s enough cookie.\u201d And suddenly Caroline Mangan was offering me a cup of Starbucks coffee with cream and sugar, and while I was talking to her, Sarah and Lily walked away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">                         \n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap has-medium-font-size\">Later, I thought it was very strange, how Sarah had pretended for me. Maybe, if I\u2019d been a little more attentive, I could have guessed at what was behind that hesitation of hers. If I had, I wouldn&#8217;t have acted like such a fool, going on and on about names and bedrooms and even telling her how small she looked, as though it were a compliment. What an agony I must have caused her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But still, Sarah seemed to like me. Our kids were close in age, and she brought them over to play a few times. I treated them more gently than I ever treated my own, pitching baseballs to the boys and singing silly songs as I pushed the girls on the swings. Danny and Lily acted as though they&#8217;d come to kid heaven, and I wondered where I had ever learned to be so good with other people&#8217;s children. As for Sarah, we always ended up laughing about something or other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We didn&#8217;t talk too much about the baby, and Sarah was so small that I kind of lost track of the due date. One day, we were at the park after school with the kids. Danny and Sam were playing with their trucks in the sandbox, and I was pushing Lily on the swing. Lily and I were talking about what would happen when she was a big sister. \u201cI&#8217;ll have to give my toddler bed to the baby and sleep in the big bed,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cBut the baby will be too little for your toddler bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cBut Mom said when the baby comes, I won&#8217;t be the baby anymore, and I won&#8217;t need my little bed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I smiled over at Sarah. It was Friday, and she was being induced the following Monday. \u201cAre you ready?\u201d I asked her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She glanced over at Lily. \u201cWhy don\u2019t you go play with Allie on the slide,\u201d she said.&nbsp; Obligingly, Lily slid down and ran across to the slides.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI have some bad news,\u201d she said to me when the kids were all out of earshot. I stood there with my mouth open. As the story washed over me, I only picked out bits and pieces.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThe doctors say it might not survive the birth at all,\u201d she was saying. \u201cAnd if it does, the most it can be is a few days. We don\u2019t know if we\u2019ll even be able to take the baby home.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cSarah, I\u2019m so sorry,\u201d I said. \u201cHow long have you known?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWe had a bad ultrasound at about twenty weeks,\u201d she answered. \u201cWe were expecting a stillbirth over the summer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Twenty weeks! \u201cAnd there I was, gushing about how easy it is to nurse the third kid!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cYou didn\u2019t know,\u201d she soothed. \u201cWe didn\u2019t tell very many people.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We stood watching the girls for a while. \u201cWhat about the kids?\u201d I asked at last.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWe\u2019re going to tell them over the weekend.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Inwardly I frowned.&nbsp; It seemed awfully late. \u201cHow do you think they\u2019ll take it?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI\u2019m not sure Lily really understands anyway,\u201d she said. \u201cDanny will be upset. He\u2019s been talking about having a brother for months.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cIs there anything I can do? Can I take them for a little while tomorrow, so you and your husband can just be together?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThanks, but I think we\u2019re just going to have some family time,\u201d she said.&nbsp;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; After a little while, we gathered the kids up and took them home. My mind was full of Sarah\u2019s terrible news. After she told me, I was almost afraid to see her again. I wondered what I would say to her. Of course, by the time I did see her, the baby would already have been born.&nbsp; And what would I say then?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cImagine being pregnant for all those weeks knowing that your baby couldn\u2019t make it,\u201d I said to my cousin Patti on the phone. I put on a video for the kids and walked out to the kitchen. \u201cI mean, you still have to gain all the weight, you can\u2019t sleep\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cRight,\u201d Patti said. She was having her afternoon coffee. She always had a little half-cup at four-thirty\u2014just enough to keep her going until Marty got home. I pictured the old white Mr. Coffee percolating on the boomerang Formica of her pleasantly outdated kitchen in New Jersey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cAnd then for weeks she had to pretend that everything was fine,\u201d I went on. \u201cShe even told me where the baby was going to sleep, for God\u2019s sake.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWell, maybe she didn\u2019t want to have to tell you all about it,\u201d Patti reminded me. \u201cYou don\u2019t know her that well.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I tried not to take offense. I actually thought of myself as a pretty good friend of Sarah\u2019s.&nbsp; \u201cBut why didn\u2019t she tell her kids?\u201d I asked Patti. \u201cWhat is that going to do to them when they know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d I heard her pause for a sip. I could almost smell the Folgers that she always drank. I pressed the phone to my ear so I could reach for a filter, and as I watched my sweater sleeve slide up on my wrist, I admired again the gold bracelet my husband had given me last Christmas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI&#8217;m just afraid it will erode their trust in her,\u201d I went on. I knew that Patti would speculate about this with me as long as I wanted. She loved to discuss the pathologies of people she didn&#8217;t know.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Suddenly I felt guilty about it. \u201cPatti,\u201d I asked, \u201cwhen do I call her?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cGive it a little while.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">                                   \n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap has-medium-font-size\">The day of the birth was the last warm day of the year, an eighty-five-degree day in early October when you wanted to pull the kids out of school and head for the beach. It was a day when you wanted to lie on the sand until long after you should have taken them home, allowing the heat to penetrate your skin as if you could store it for the cold months ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The weather changed after that. We&#8217;d had day after day of clear, hallucinatory blue skies\u2014then suddenly, there was a chill and we needed jackets. When we&#8217;d been running around outside, we were grateful for the heat in our cheeks; and as we walked back from the park at five o&#8217;clock in the afternoon, we smelled the wood smoke of the season&#8217;s first fires.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; For a few nights I asked myself, is it too soon? I longed to get that first call over with; the funeral had been private, and I was afraid she might be wondering why she hadn&#8217;t heard from me. I wrote and rewrote my sympathy letter. I made her a batch of soup. I was going to call tomorrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And then she called me\u2014astonishingly soon, before she was seeing anyone\u2014to invite Allie to come over and play with Lily. And next thing I knew, I was sitting in Sarah\u2019s dining room with all the junk from the hospital\u2014the emesis basin, the sitz bath, the squirt bottle\u2014still piled on the sideboard.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWere you able to tell who he looked like?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cHe looked a lot like Danny,&#8221; she began, with more animation than I&#8217;d seen in her for a long time. \u201cDanny looks like my husband, especially around the eyes. And Joshua had the exact same eyes. Different color, though. Danny&#8217;s eyes are blue, but Joshua&#8217;s were a sort of hazel-green, like Lily&#8217;s.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She showed me the pictures. I could hardly bear to look at the baby, who had perfect little features and a purple bloat on the side of his head, as though a complex system of veins that belonged deep inside his skull pulsed just under the skin. But the whole story was in the faces of the other people in the room. There was a terrible chronology in those few pictures. Early on, Danny and Lily were smiling as they each took turns holding the baby. An eager big brother looked on at the bath. But in the next one, Danny&#8217;s lips were contorted with tears; and the worst one of all was the picture of Sarah\u2019s husband with his head bent over the baby in his arms, obviously weeping.&nbsp; Even the nurse curled her body around the child in an attitude of protection and love.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWe kept trying to get him to open his eyes,\u201d Sarah told me. \u201cAnd we couldn&#8217;t wake him up, and we couldn&#8217;t wake him up. And then suddenly he opened them very wide and it was like, \u2018I&#8217;m here.\u2019\u201d She turned her head, picked up her coffee cup, set it down again. \u201cWhen we went into the hospital, my mom wanted to keep the kids at home with her, but I was afraid they were never going to see him if they weren&#8217;t right there. And the way it turned out, he was really alert for only about twenty minutes. They never would have gotten there in time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sarah said that sometimes she would start crying and it would go on for hours. If anyone asked her about the baby, she might cry all afternoon. She didn&#8217;t know how she was going to face the other mothers when she took Danny to school.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And that was when I saw my opportunity.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was a simple arrangement. Sarah would drop Danny off at my house at ten minutes to twelve so that I could walk him over to school with Sam. She would pull into my driveway in her minivan and step out in one of the bright pastel sweaters that already fit her again and looked so striking against her long blonde hair, a better color now that she&#8217;d been able to get in for an appointment. \u201cHow are you doing today?\u201d I would ask. And she would lean against the car and say, \u201cnot so good,\u201d and wrinkle her nose a little. And then she would scoot Danny out of the car, saying, \u201cI don&#8217;t want to make you late,\u201d and he would shoulder his backpack and throw an armful of leaves at Sam and start running ahead of me toward the crossing guard and kindergarten. In the afternoon I brought him back to my house, where she picked him up half an hour later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I was extremely caught up in my arrangement with her. I thought about Sarah all the time\u2014about the years and years of loss she would suffer, the birthdays she would observe quietly, wondering what her son would have been like. As I stood in the shower, I tried to picture my own children&#8217;s faces. Which one of them had the long eyelashes, Sam or Allie? I sometimes thought that I never really looked at them\u2014never noticed when they&#8217;d grown or when that baby look finally left their faces. If anything ever happened to one of them, I wondered if I would even remember what they had really looked like.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The back door creaked open, startling me out of my thoughts. Lily came merrily into the house and took off her purple Land&#8217;s End jacket and shoes, scattering bits of dried leaves on the carpet. She settled herself in front of the dollhouse that we&#8217;d tucked under the piano bench. Meanwhile Allie hung onto my leg and whined for juice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cUse your big girl voice, Allie,\u201d I said. As I walked into the kitchen, I called over my shoulder, \u201cLily, do you want a snack?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lily came running after us and climbed up onto one of the kitchen chairs. Her feet were so tiny, and she lisped; it was sometimes difficult to understand her. I poured her a cup of water and offered her a graham cracker. Lily wasn&#8217;t a good eater most of the time, but she always ate graham crackers at my house. I glanced at the clock. Five more minutes and I would have to go wake up the baby.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I was a little hurt that Sarah hadn&#8217;t come back. After all, I thought she liked talking to me. I fantasized about being the only friend who could really help her; my kitchen table would be an impromptu therapist&#8217;s couch. As I watched for her every day, I felt nervous and excited, as though I were the only one allowed to see a famous recluse.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sarah told me that when it had been two weeks, she would go back to picking Danny up herself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cIf it makes it any easier,&#8221; I said, &#8220;when you do go, you can park in our driveway and walk over with us.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThanks,\u201d she said. \u201cI might do that.\u201d We made plans for it a couple of times. Each time, she would call at two-thirty and ask me to bring Danny here instead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I sometimes think that this offer of mine may have been a little too much. Maybe Sarah thought I was trying to own her; maybe she thought I was trying to make her dependent on me. It was hard to explain this feeling to my husband. &#8220;Don&#8217;t obsess about it,&#8221; he said. And suddenly I felt morbid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; At around the same time, I began to notice that Sarah was changing toward me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We developed a sort of coolness, a quietness. One evening, when I called Sarah on the phone, she had nothing to say and even seemed irritated. I began to feel afraid to talk to her when she dropped Danny off every day; I would grab him and hurry off, pretending to be late. As the two weeks came and went our arrangement became awkward, unnecessary, like scaffolding left in place long after a building was repaired. I began to think it was strange that Sarah was driving Danny here when school was only fifty feet beyond my door. It was almost a phobia.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cMore juice,\u201d Allie said, holding out her cup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cMore graham cracker,\u201d Lily said. She ate three of them. I wondered if she&#8217;d had any lunch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was a quarter to three. Sarah was now an hour and fifteen minutes late, and it was time to go to school. \u201cCome on, girls,\u201d I said. \u201cLet&#8217;s go upstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Lily brought her graham cracker with her, and this time I didn&#8217;t tell her not to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The baby was standing up in her crib with a poopy diaper. As I lifted her out, I imagined the phone ringing downstairs while I held her feet with one hand and wiped her bottom with the other. Her pants were dirty too\u2014we were going to be late. I pictured Danny and Sam walking out the school door and not seeing me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cAllie,\u201d I said, \u201cget some clean pants for me. She pooped on these.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI&#8217;ll get some,\u201d Lily said. They started pulling clothes out of the bottom drawer. I slid the dirty pants carefully off, wadding them up and sticking them under the changing table. I would have to soak them later.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cIt doesn&#8217;t matter if they match or not,\u201d I said to the girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; When I turned around, I saw that they\u2019d pulled a lot of clothes out of the drawer. I grabbed a pair of pants and hurried the baby into them, then picked up her shoes. \u201cLet&#8217;s go, now,\u201d I said to the girls. \u201cCome on.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I would get Danny and I would bring him back here. And then Sarah would come at three-thirty, like she did every day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Maybe she needed some time to herself, I thought as I coaxed Lily&#8217;s foot into a shoe that was curled with long wear. Maybe she just went home for a while. Or did some errands. It would be nice to do a few errands without a child in tow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But then she would have called, wouldn&#8217;t she?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I wondered suddenly if it had been a good idea to leave Sarah alone like that. These past four weeks since the baby died, there had always been someone there\u2014her mother, in town from Pittsburgh, her husband, one of the kids, a friend. Maybe she hadn&#8217;t gone to tennis at all. Maybe she had taken this opportunity, when there was no one around, to do something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Her kids would be with me. She would know that I would go get Danny, and that I would eventually try to reach her husband when she didn&#8217;t answer the phone. Her children would never see her. Unless, of course, I just took them over there and knocked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Why hadn&#8217;t I called, I thought as I hurried my own girls into the stroller. Allie wanted to walk with Lily, but I thought the more of them I could restrain, the better. Allie was yelling and kicking her feet as we headed down the driveway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I would have to call Sarah\u2019s husband, and he would go home, and finally he would call me to tell me what she had done. I would keep the kids for him while he talked to the police.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; As Danny and Sam dropped their backpacks in the hallway and went running outside, I scolded myself for these awful thoughts. I should just call. After all, I wasn&#8217;t doing her any favor, really, by keeping her kids too long. Eventually they would want to go home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And besides, it was wrong of me to dramatize myself in this way. Here I was, imagining myself at the center of a family tragedy. A martyr for the kids, that was me. Don&#8217;t worry, I would say to her husband. You take care of what you need to do. I&#8217;ve got the kids.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I decided to go outside with them. The girls were down in one of the window wells, pulling out rocks and throwing them into the wheelbarrow.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cCome out of there, girls,\u201d I called. \u201cYou don&#8217;t belong down there.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; The boys, meanwhile, were standing up in the swings. By the time I&#8217;d redirected them all to the leaf pile again and taken a few pictures, it was a quarter to four. I went in and tried Sarah&#8217;s number. No answer.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I needed a plan now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; She was only fifteen minutes later than usual. I would wait until four and call again. And if she didn&#8217;t answer, I would put the girls in the stroller and we would all walk over to her house. I wasn&#8217;t calling her husband and looking like a fool just yet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; But things got busy there in the back yard. Sam was crying because Danny was beating him at soccer and so I had to let them both play against me, two against one. We went back and forth across the yard, using the fence at either end as our goal. But every few minutes, Allie would start to whine and I would have to stop playing soccer and push the swing a few times. I couldn&#8217;t keep them all going much longer without TV. \u201cHey, Mom,\u201d Sam called. \u201cAre you still playing?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; I reached down under a bush to fish out a soccer ball that Danny had kicked out of bounds. There was a patch of grass over here by the garage that was shorter, silkier than the rest; it was a brighter green, a yellow-green, as though it were growing over some especially rich soil. I suppose that the previous owner had simply filled in a bare spot with a different kind of grass seed than the one that had been used over most of the lawn. But I couldn&#8217;t help imagining that the grass over here grew thick and soft as a baby blanket because there was a body buried underneath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; It was a crazy thought, I said to myself. All these thoughts about Sarah were crazy. Sarah would come around; Sarah would still be my friend when she&#8217;d had a little time. This was nothing more than a beautiful autumn afternoon that I was free to enjoy outside with my kids and their friends. The chill in the air and the smell of dead leaves were still pleasant; the birch leaves were like gold coins on the ground. I was not yet tired of raking. I could look forward to a fire in the fireplace when my husband came home. Everything was all right for now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; We were all balloons, I thought, tethered to reality by such frail strings. Every day when I woke up, I looked forward to the slim list of activities that stood between me and futility: grocery shopping, coffee with Sarah, playdates and appointments. It was hard to imagine now that I&#8217;d ever done anything else. Across town from here, while I drove my minivan home from the cleaners, other people made sales calls; across continents, in camps without sanitation, other people hoarded the last rice in scraps of burlap while I filled my days with these little things that would leave no lasting mark.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And yet these little plans, these to-do lists, protected me. Every little connection to some other person, everyone who needed a ride to soccer practice or a phone call to cheer them up sustained me another day. There were so many women like me. When we had gained weight and there were hospital benefits to go to, we would stand tentative in front of bedroom mirrors and ask our husbands, \u201cdo you think the black suit is dressy enough?\u201d while they sat bewildered across the room, wondering what answer would get them in the least trouble. But because of these things, these minutiae we had to worry about, we would be all right.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And then we would not be. Something would happen, and we would jerk ourselves loose and float off into space.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<pre class=\"wp-block-verse\">                                    \n<\/pre>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-drop-cap has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI came by,\u201d Sarah said, \u201cand no one answered the door.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI was here,\u201d I answered, bewildered. \u201cI was here all the time, except when I went over to school.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWell, maybe you were down in the basement or something.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI wasn&#8217;t,\u201d I said, frowning. \u201cI really was right here.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cWell, anyway,\u201d Sarah said then, \u201cwhen you didn&#8217;t come to the door on the third try, I just went home.\u201d And didn&#8217;t call, or let me know what she was doing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cI&#8217;m really sorry,\u201d I said, though I didn&#8217;t know why I was apologizing. Danny put his shoes back on right away, without being asked. I sat on the living room floor amid scattered blocks, dollhouse furniture, books, graham cracker crumbs. Sarah said nothing about the missed coffee, about whether she would walk over to school with me to get Danny herself any time soon. I had thought it would help if we walked together, if she had someone to stand with on that first long wait on the playground. Surely, we would be friends again; surely, this was just grief, and not something more ominous.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Sarah was holding the front door open with her foot while Lily and Danny edged past her, their purple and red Land&#8217;s End jackets bobbing short and thick around their waists. My hands flailed out suddenly, as though something I could not quite catch was drifting away. The children, I thought wildly. If I could just hold onto the children. I knew I would never lift off; I was afraid to let go. But, what would it mean\u2014what would I <em>see<\/em>\u2014if, just for a moment, I could slip free of myself and look down?<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; \u201cThanks,\u201d Sarah called off-handedly over her shoulder. And then she said, \u201cif it\u2019s all right, I\u2019ll bring him by again tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>Joan Bauer<\/strong> holds a master&#8217;s degree in English and has worked as a trust officer in a bank. Her short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in <em>Dappled Things<\/em>, <em>Amethyst Review<\/em>, <em>The Windhover<\/em>, and <em>San Antonio Review<\/em>. &#8220;Consignment,&#8221; a novelette, is forthcoming from ELJ Editions.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"alignleft size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"438\" height=\"211\" src=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-15484\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg 438w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1-300x145.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 438px) 100vw, 438px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-large-font-size\">&lt;&lt; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2023\/07\/03\/july-is-the-new-june-edition-editors-note\/\">Back<\/a> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2023\/07\/01\/the-death-of-harold-cassidy\/\">Next<\/a> &gt;&gt;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">To learn more about submitting your work to <em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/boudin-submissions\/\">Boudin<\/a><\/em> or applying to McNeese State University&#8217;s Creative Writing <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/mfa-application-submissions\/\">MFA program<\/a>, please visit Submissions for details.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Balloons Joan Bauer __________ When Sarah dropped Lily off around noon, she said she was just going to a half-hour tennis lesson. I invited her to come back here for coffee afterward, and she said she would like that. But she never came back.\u00a0 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Outside, our two girls were happily scooping up leaves in&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":42,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[244,25],"tags":[75,176,171,26],"class_list":["post-14719","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-boudin-2023","category-fiction","tag-boudin","tag-joan-bauer","tag-julyisthenewjune23edition","tag-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14719","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/42"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=14719"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14719\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":21288,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14719\/revisions\/21288"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=14719"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=14719"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=14719"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}