Free Wishful Thinking by Kamy Wicoff Page A

guessed Julien had not done his homework and Jack had not done his speech exercises. Not that Norman would have any clue about those.
    Where in the world was Melissa?
    “What are you doing here?” she asked as she attempted to hang her bag on one of the hooks by the door and was hit by an avalanche of jackets and backpacks.
    “Hello to you too,” Norman said jocosely, continuing to wrestle with the boys, making a show of his hair-tousling, wet willy–dispensing manliness, performing, as usual, for her, for the boys, for himself. It irritated her to no end, not least because Norman acted more like a rascally uncle than like a father and would soon walk out the door and leave her with a hyperactive duo not remotely ready for bed. If she was honest, however, watching him filled her with jealousy, too, seeing Julien and Jack delight in a kind of roughhousing she could never get quite right. Eventually Norman told them to stop, though they didn’t listen. He was deflecting running charges from one and then the other when he answered her.
    “Melissa texted to say you were running late and that she really needed to go to class, so I thought I’d come by.”
    “Oh, damn! Night school. I forgot,” Jennifer said, lying again. Since when, she wondered, did Melissa look to Norman for help? “Maybe next time you or Melissa could ask me first?” she said. “I’d like to know when you are going to be in my apartment.” She looked around as she said it, as though there could be something incriminating there. But her life was so dull, the most embarrassing thing in the room was a stack of fifteen rice-pudding containers crusting over next to the TV.
    “Boys, Daddy has to leave …,” Jennifer began.
    “Daddy, don’t weave!” Jack cried, jumping onto the couch.
    “
Leave
,” she and Norman both corrected.
    “Jinx!” Julien called.
    “Baths and pajamas!” she said, glaring at them both.
    “You can’t talk, Mommy; you’re jinxed!” Julien shot back.
    In response, Jennifer took him by the arm, swiveled himaround, and gave him a little shove down the hall. Jack reluctantly followed.
    “Wait,” Jennifer said. “Say bye to Daddy before he goes.” The boys whirled around and rushed Norman, wrapping their arms around his legs. He gave them each a kiss on the top of the head.
    “See you Saturday, you little monsters,” Norman added with a playful growl. Growling too, the boys retreated down the hallway.
    “I’m glad Melissa got off okay,” Jennifer said to Norman. It had been good of him; she could at least acknowledge that. “Thank you.” She slipped off her shoes. “See you Saturday?”
    “Actually,” Norman said, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
    “What’s up?” she said, walking over to the fridge and taking out a bottle of wine. She gestured to it. Norman shook his head.
    “I got bunk beds,” Norman said.
    “Really?” she said. The second surprise from Norman that day.
    “And I got a teaching job,” he added. At this, Jennifer sat down. “Really?” she asked. The third surprise, and by far the biggest of them all. “What happened to ‘teaching would mean the end of my acting career’?”
    Norman sat down too.
    “Well,” he said, fiddling with a napkin ring on the table. “Things change. A spot opened up. Poetry and Poetics. Fourth grade.”
    “At St. John’s?”
    “Yep,” he said. Only St. John’s, one of the most artsy, elite, progressive schools in the city, would teach a class called Poetry and Poetics to fourth graders. St. John’s also happened to be Norman’s alma mater. Naturally, they couldn’t afford tosend their own children there. And naturally, when they’d needed it most, Norman had refused to apply to St. John’s for a job. But it was better late than never.
    Then Norman smiled.
Could it be?
she thought, hardly daring to hope.
Child support?
    “I’ll be able to increase my child support payments now,” he said. “I’m really happy about