When I Ran Away Ilona Bannister (best free ebook reader .txt) 📖

is rehearsal. It doesn’t count as a first until the first time you see it

So normal. Such a me thing to say. I’m still in here somewhere.

Stacy:

Really? Oh my god you’re right

Me:

Yes

Stacy:

Do those f’ing girls at the day care care if it’s his first time? They don’t care. I CARE

Me:

Exactly. They don’t get his firsts

Stacy:

OMG I’m going to do a bunch of videos at home and say it’s the first time like I’ll make him roll and say look it’s the first roll! And then we’ll do one for his steps and be like hey it’s the first steps!

Me:

OK you don’t have to lie on camera to the child just don’t feel guilty. You work hard for that kid

Stacy:

My parents lied to me my whole life

Me:

See how that turned out though

Stacy:

Ha ha. Love you

Me:

Love you

I should tell her. If Stacy knew I was here, in this hotel, what I did this morning, she’d help. I know she would. I just have to tell her and Danielle and Sharon, Hey, I’m struggling. But it’s hard to find the right time. They got jobs and kids and there’s the time difference and there’s only so much you can say in a text. You can’t say in a text, I think I’m too sick to go back to work. I think I’m too sick to take care of these kids. That’s not a texting conversation. You don’t drop that on your friends when they’re thousands of miles away.

I got Johnny when he was six months old. I took four weeks off and then I went back full-time. There was no adoption leave and I didn’t give birth, so no maternity leave. I took my vacation and some unpaid family leave. But without a husband with an income, with no support from Mrs. Costello and my parents always short on cash, unpaid time wasn’t an option with a baby to raise and bills to pay. And I did it, alone. Where is that woman who worked her ass off all day and took care of a screaming baby all night and then got up at dawn and did it all over again? And so what if I quit law school, so what if my job was just a job and never a career, look at that kid. What a beautiful kid he is.

Of course, I’m not alone now. Like this mother said to me at the school gates once, “You don’t need to work, though, do you?” As if it was any of her business. As if having a purpose to every day isn’t a need. Yes, Harry takes care of us. But people die, marriages fail, banks collapse, shit gets bombed, babies show up in your kitchen and I needed to know that I could rescue us. That, if it came down to it, all me and Johnny needed was me. Because I was a mother before I was a wife. But now—I keep waiting for the switch to flip so I’ll be me again. On, off, on, off. I keep switching it but the room stays dark. And we’re dependent. The one thing I swore I’d never be.

I light another cigarette, take a drag holding my hand out the window, scroll through my emails. School, more from Harry, you can guess what they’re like, and then there’s the one from Aneela, my boss, that I haven’t opened yet because I can’t handle the disappointment, hers and my own. She sent it two days ago. ashah@gillianmc-carthy.co.uk. Catching up. That’s the subject, Catching up, except that the subject really is, Are you fucking coming back to work it’s been almost nine months and you said you’d be back at six and I thought you were American and don’t you guys go back to work three days after you have your babies?

Just before I left Aneela said that the firm would pay for my law courses and they’d give me a training contract so in a few years I could be a solicitor. She said I was good. But I knew I was good. I’ve always been good, I’ve just never had the chance or the money to get the piece of paper to prove that I could be just as good as any lawyer I ever worked for. And here she was, giving me a stepladder; finally, someone saw in me what I knew I could be—or could have been. Past tense.

I should have written back sooner. Let’s try.

Dear Aneela,

It’s so nice to hear from you. I’ve just left my children and my husband today so now I find that I have a lot more time to devote to working. I’m ready to start on Monday, does that suit you?

How about this:

Dear Aneela,

Unfortunately, due to an unforeseen mental breakdown I’ve had to return to America. Thank you and I really enjoyed working with you.

Or this:

Dear Aneela,

I just finished reading Lean In. Thank you so much for sending it to me along with the beautiful baby blanket. Sheryl Sandberg is so wise. Unfortunately, I’ve done the math and leaning in with my full-time salary is less than the cost of the childcare we would need for two kids so there’s actually no financial point in me working. That makes me feel worthless and powerless because my professional contribution to the world amounts to an economic loss for my family. But I’m grateful for the opportunity. I really enjoyed all the times I got home too late to see Johnny awake and wasn’t paid for it.

Too harsh. That’s too harsh. Let’s try this:

Dear Aneela,

I don’t know why you can do it but I can’t. You have kids too and you’re really successful and nice and you believed in me but I’m sorry, I have no explanation for why I used to be a competent, smart, hardworking, ambitious person but now I stand in the pasta aisle of the supermarket too overwhelmed by all the different shapes to pick one. I always seem to manage alright in