“It really was.”
For the first time in longer than I could remember, I sat in my own house doing absolutely nothing.
From somewhere down the hall came a crash, followed by Johnny saying, “Okay, nobody move.”
Then someone knocked.
The peace lasted maybe seven minutes.
Then someone knocked.
Johnny opened the guest-room door with our oldest child’s backpack hanging from one hand.
“Where’s his alphabet book?”
I lifted one cucumber slice just enough to look at him.
“Did you check the front pocket?”
He stared at me.
“Yes.”
“The kitchen table?”
“Yes.”
He stared at me.
“Then check under the couch. He was coloring there yesterday.”
“Apparently.”
His mother laughed from the chair beside me.
“Those kids hide everything.”
Johnny gave her a tight smile.
“Apparently.”
He disappeared again.
His mother laughed.
I put the cucumber slice back over my eye and reached for my champagne.
The funny thing was, none of this was unusual.
A minute later, I heard Johnny moving couch cushions in the living room. Then:
“Found it!”
His mother smiled.
“There you go.”
Johnny appeared in the doorway.
I took another slow sip of champagne and said nothing.
We were only getting started.
About twenty minutes later, Johnny appeared in the doorway again.
This time, he looked noticeably less composed.
