THANKSGIVING

It was an ordinary weekend with the kids. I use the word Aordinary@ in the loosest sense C my bi-weekly sojourns into step-mothering were rarely without some sort of event. But ten-year-old Mike, eight-year-old Lauren and I had passed through our initial fiery trials C we now lived together like soap bubbles, careful not to bump each other too hard. We had resolved why Lauren could no longer sleep with her dad, how I could so tell Mike what to do and that I did not want to replace their mother, who lived only four blocks away anyway. To his everlasting credit, David backed me all the way. But never had I worked so hard to build a connection as with these two small strangers. We had installed ourselves in each others= lives as part of the package of loving David. Not really family, not babysitter and babysat, we found ourselves nameless to each other. I never-the-less found myself finishing grad school, working and helping to raise two half-grown children, raw from the ongoing backlash of a four-year-old divorce.

After two years, Akid-weekends@ ran more or less smoothly. Lauren called me her friend. And Mike C I tried to have a relationship with him that wouldn=t jeopardize his desperate loyalty to his mother, though neither of us had figured out what that might be. I had to be caring without being motherly. Maintain order without familial authority. I was proud of my mature approach to these touchy situations. I thought I had it all handled. Until it all fell apart.

We woke early Sunday to the sound of running bath water.

AIs someone taking a bath?@ David muttered.

AMmm, I think it=s Mike. Sounds like him anyway.@

AWeird.@

AYeah.@

He curled up around me and we managed to sleep a bit longer.

When we finally gave up on any more rest, David and I emerged to find Mike out of the tub, but he didn=t want any of the pancakes we fixed. He wasn=t feeling well. His stomach hurt, he felt chilled, his legs hurt. Now we understood why he=d gotten up to take a hot bath. Another bout of the flu.

He lay around all day, which we encouraged since rest would be the best thing. It was a good day to stay inside, with the chilly November snow drifting past the windows. The woodstove dominated our small apartment, and I felt cozy and domestic preparing food to take up to David=s family Thanksgiving in northern Wyoming. The kids were with us for this holiday, and we planned to make the four and a half hour drive on Wednesday to spend the long weekend.

We coaxed Mike into eating a little dinner before David drove the kids back to their mother=s. Monday night, David=s ex-wife Pat called. Mike was still running a fever. Would David take him to the pediatrician the following afternoon? David agreed C she might be jumping the gun, but everyone wanted Mike to be well enough to travel.

Tuesday afternoon, the phone in my office rang. David sounded tired.

AHi,@ I said, pleased to hear from him so soon. ABack from the doctor already? Everything okay?@

AWe=re in the Emergency Room.@

ANo,@ he sighed. AWait. I just called Pat and she won=t like seeing you here. I=ll call when things have settled down.@

I fought for something to say. Pat would be worried about Mike, and she didn=t like me under the best of circumstances. The mother should be there, not me. But where could I put my wanting to be there?

ACan I bring anything? I=ll go home and make some good sandwiches.@ I tried to sound cheerful, wondering how the hell I would distract myself for two hours until I was free to go up there. I couldn=t concentrate on my job C besides I=d finished all the water quality tests for the day.

ANo, there=s a cafeteria here. Besides, we might be able to go home by then. See you later.@