“I’m doing my best.”
“I know you are. That’s the problem!” she teased.
“I’m doing my best.”
***
I worked double shifts at the hardware store. Then, triple shifts when one of the children needed braces, a science fair board, or new sneakers because the old ones suddenly fit nobody.
There were science fairs and fevers I sat through. Broken hearts, I didn’t know how to fix, so I just made grilled cheese and let them cry on the couch.
Three separate phases, when all three of them hated me at once. June, at 13, slamming doors. Claire, at 15, refused to look at me for a month. And Ava, at 17, told me I didn’t understand anything.
I didn’t. But I stayed.
I just made grilled cheese.
***
I missed things, too.
- A cousin’s wedding in Denver because Claire had the flu.
- A fishing vacation I’d promised myself for 10 years.
- The chance to have a family of my own.
- And Diana, the woman I love.
Diana was patient for a long time. Longer than she should’ve been.
I missed things, too.
“I’m not asking you to choose,” she told me one night at the front door. “I’m asking if there’s room.”
“There isn’t,” I said. “Not the kind you deserve.”
She nodded as if she already knew. She left a sweater behind. I never returned it.
I stayed with the triplets, not because they asked me to, but because someone had to.
