Today

It was always at this moment in the morning when she felt so helpless. It was time for action and Ruth was never good at that, the swing into movement. More often she’d rather remain static, stuck in thought. But thought didn’t get Lennon to school. It didn’t save the client she was in danger of losing. It didn’t move you forward, and that was what you were supposed to do in this life, one foot in front of the other, advancing.

She half-expected the front door to squeak closed, for Gary to leave without saying goodbye, though it was completely unusual for him to do that. Instead he came into the bedroom and pecked her on the forehead with such tight lips that it hurt. I love you he said.

Love you too.

Wouldn’t it have been great if that was the moment she realized to whom her loyalty belonged? How poetic. Life doesn’t work that way, though. Instead she wanted him to get out. She didn’t know exactly why, or maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge it. She just wanted his ass to leave.

Then he did, and she struggled her way out of bed.

Somehow she dressed Lennon. That was always a fight itself. Kid liked to be naked, there was no way around it. Never was the word no used more often than when she was trying to pull on his pants, pull down his shirt, adjust his socks. Then came the hair. Jesus was that a tough one. They kept forgetting to use conditioner or detangler or whatever the fuck was supposed to work in these circumstances, so when it came time for brushing, curse words were spilled and spilled again. Fortunately, Lennon rarely repeated them. He just wiggled and screeched and she tried to be gentle, but it worked less often than she cared to admit.

How did one parent? How?