Rapid Falls(12)

“No,” I say. I remind myself that his frustration stems from her, not me. Maggie’s cries are loud enough to make my chest vibrate. Hearing your own child cry evokes a primitive response. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes it’s anger. That’s where Rick is right now. “I’ll go out and grab some in a bit.”

“I sent you a text to remind you to stop on your way.” He’s not ready to let it go. The oven timer chimes, and he rushes back to the kitchen. The house fills with the comforting scent of roasted tomatoes. It’s a jarring contrast to the screeches coming from the sitting room.

I take a few steps into the kitchen. “I was driving. I couldn’t look at my phone until I got here. I’m sorry.”

He sets the lasagna onto a trivet on the table as his shoulders slump. “It’s been a long day. Maggie’s been like this for most of the afternoon. She’s still feeling awful.” He waves his hand toward the steaming dish. “This needs a minute to cool. Do you want to say hi to her? See if you can get her to calm down? I just need to put together a salad.” He looks at me quickly, and I know the fight is over. In his eyes I catch a glimpse of how we used to be. The year before Maggie was born, when he decided to quit his job at the snowboard company and turn to freelance contracts, his creativity had overflowed into our everyday life. Once, I came home from work to a scavenger hunt that led to him naked in our bed, a pair of icy-cold beers sweating on our nightstands for afterward. Now we don’t even kiss hello, but I know this is just a phase. Our love is strong despite the battering we take from our daughter and my sister.

I walk into the sitting room. Maggie is systematically ripping pages out of a magazine. Tears stream down her face as she gulps in ragged breaths.

“Hi, Maggie,” I say cautiously.

“Daddy won’t let me color on the couch!”

I sigh. “Come here, Mags. Let’s have a hug.”

“No!”

“Just a little one?”

Maggie scowls at me, and then her face changes as she suddenly rushes to my arms. Her small body fills every hollow part of me. Rick and I have chosen to have only one child. We both know it would be impossible to divide our love between two of them; one would always get less. I scoop her up and walk into the kitchen, where Rick is placing a green salad on the table. He looks calmer now.

“Down!” Maggie squirms out of my arms, and I place her onto the hardwood floor beside her booster seat. She picks up where we left off at breakfast and immediately begins singing a rendition of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.” I join in. Both of our voices are off-key, but it still sounds beautiful. To me, at least. Rick’s face screws up in mock agony.

“We need to talk about preschool,” Rick says over the din. “I think she needs more stimulation during the day.”

I stop singing to answer, and Maggie transitions seamlessly into the ABC song. “Okay. Do you have something in mind? Have you spoken with Esther about availability at Sunny Side?” Growing up and going to private school in Fraser City means Rick has lots of helpful connections. I would do anything to make sure Maggie is successful, even though the annual fee for the preschool is more than I paid for my state college tuition.

“She said she might have a spot opening up in the late summer—” Rick’s words are cut short by a loud knock at the door. Even Maggie is startled into silence.

“Someone is at the door,” she announces.

“We know, sweetie.” As I walk to the door, another round of rapid knocking begins. The lack of a polite pause between knocks gives me a good sense of who I’ll find on the other side.

“Hi, Anna,” I say as I swing open the door. My sister is doing her best to appear sober, but her hooded eyes and weaving stance betray her.

“Hi,” she mumbles as she brushes past me. Rick has joined us in the foyer now, with Maggie in his arms.

“Hi, Auntie A!” Maggie says loudly. Rick shifts Maggie on his hip to get her as far away as possible from Anna’s alcohol fumes. Anna blinks at Maggie slowly as if she’s trying to figure out who she is. Understanding flickers in her eyes.

“Hi, pumpkin. Whatcha doing? I brought you a present.” She smiles, but it’s as slow and sloppy as her words.

Maggie’s expression changes from glee to confusion as she tries to decipher her aunt’s words. She opts for the safety of repetition, with slightly more volume.

“Hi, Auntie A!”

“Hi, Maggie!” My sister echoes Maggie’s volume and gives us all a bleary smile. She’s too drunk to realize that she’s not being as cute as she thinks she is. She thrusts a plastic grocery bag toward my daughter. “I brought you a present!”

Maggie squeals in delight and snatches it. A multicolored teething ring flies out and skitters across the floor. Maggie pounces on it, then pouts.

“This is for babies,” she says sulkily.

“What are you talking about, Mags? You can put it in the freezer. For when you get teeth . . .” Anna trails off slowly, looking at Maggie’s mouth.

“I already have teeth!” Maggie begins to cry and runs back to her dad’s arms.

Anna looks at me helplessly. Her face crumples. “I didn’t think . . .”

I scoop up the plastic ring quickly and shove it back into the bag. “Her adult teeth will be coming in soon. We’ll save it for then,” I say, trying to rid the room of Rick’s disbelief and Anna’s embarrassment.