New York #11

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Annabel  has this funny way of getting exasperated with her children. She doesn’t out right yell at them.and She doesn’t exactly ignore them either.she waves her hands talking to dead air.Like putting a post it on the bathroom mirror. The message is there. But …it didn’t require direct attention. 

It’s harder for me to see Annabel with children. Grayson, stands in the middle of the room crying, “I can’t find my other shoe…mom,mom,mom,I can’t find my other shoe.”
“If you would put them where you’re supposed to this wouldn’t happen.now go look one more time.”
Annabel was going through the kitchen cabinet,bowls,that’s what she was looking for. 
I pointed to Grayson.he was just standing there,red eyes,snot running,his bed hair standing up. One shoe on his left foot and one shoe in his hand.He looked at me. I raised an eyebrow and pointed to his hand…
His eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh! Not again!” And he ran off to put the shoe on.
Annabel turned around. “And don’t you pet him either. He has to learn to fix things on his own.its been very hard with his dad gone.”
“Pet him? Why would I do that?. He’s not my kid. I’m just waiting for coffee. Where’s the coffee. By the way,you could go into fashion,you remember when we were in school.you baked and made clothes from all that fabric from Mrs Schrivells shop. You could design for the mothers of New York. I don’t know.”
She looked at me. Picking up the baby. “Oh really? Please,I smell like baby formula and I’m pretty sure this spot on my arm isn’t baby food.I look about as good as a homeless person taking finals.”
I laughed . “I’m just saying it’s something to think about.”
She rolled her eyes. 
“Get out of here. You have to go to that news thing and tell them about Alabama,remember?.”
“Yeah ok. I just wanted to see how you were doing that’s all.”
She looked at me.
“We thought you were dead,Josh. You just disappeared. …don’t do that. You can’t do that. It’s not ok.”
“Hey , I’m here now,” I say,spreading my arms. 
“And I’ll be here a while.” 

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