Waving Not Drowning

It's almost time. Unless of course he's late. She's too tired to fight him anymore and really, traffic is insane these days. That's why she picks Aaron up after school and spends an hour and fifteen minutes at The Second Cup waiting for Chris to show up. The hand off. The passover. Wednesday afternoon to Thursday night, every second weekend, alternating high holidays. It used to be a hassle but they've settled into a quiet, comfortable groove. Surprising themselves at how much better they are as co parents than partners. Better friends than lovers. Taking the long way around. The same table every week, tucked into the corner on the club chairs with the noisy fabric. She smuggles in a juice box and over ripe banana but makes sure to fork out for a medium sized hot chocolate with extra whip to justify their monopolizing of real estate. It's prime time, this 4 to 5:15 pm slot. The same faces every week. She wonders where their passovers take place. ...

Gerry insists on wearing the green cords, his favourite purple Ninja Turtle t shirt topped with his cape. Lorna doesn't really care; Gerry's worn that cape almost every day since his birthday in April. When she puts him to bed after reading The Velveteen Rabbit four times and they sing You've Got A Friend in whispers twice, she turns the light off and the constellation glows a faint green on his ceiling. She listens for the shift in his breathing, when it drops in cadence, deeper, slower. That's the moment to extricate the cape from under his pillow. Enough time to throw it in the wash and get it dried, folded and placed back where it started before she passes out from exhaustion, generally around 10. It's been a long four years. He's a great kid but this was never the plan, solo parenting. Now, first day of school in the morning. Weeks of planning, dry runs, deciding on what to wear again and again. The cords, the sweater, the jeans, the superman pajamas. Alway...