Free The Kept Woman by Susan Donovan

with the plate of homemade cookies in her hands. This wasn't turning out to be the after-school Kodak moment she'd planned. She wanted this afternoon to be special—perfect. But her chest felt heavy and her stomach churned with a sudden anger. The language pouring out of her daughter's innocent mouth! Amazing! Where the hell did a ninth-grade girl learn to talk like that?
    Oh shit .
    "I'm gonna get some milk to go with those," Lily said, marching across the kitchen, her tartan uniform skirt swaying at the backs of her skinny, pale thighs. Sam hadn't noticed that her daughter had accented her ensemble that morning with a pair of gray wool socks and hiking boots with thick treads and Day-Glo orange laces. It also looked like she'd rolled up the skirt's waistband at least twice, because it was markedly shorter than it was when she'd left the house.
    "Those cookies look good, Mom. Did you really bake them? What are they?"
    "Chocolate chip with pecans," Sam managed, still unable to move.
    Greg's hand scooped three from the plate before Sam could place it on the table. She hadn't even seen him come into the kitchen. "And how about you, Greg? How was your second day?"
    Greg shrugged, munching on a cookie. "These are great," he said with his mouth full. "Real good, Mom. Thanks."
    Sam collapsed into a chair.
    "Where's diaper boy?" Lily plopped down across from Sam and reached for the plate of cookies.
    "He should be getting up from his nap in a minute."
    "Any miraculous breakthroughs today?" Lily asked with a grin.
    Sam sighed. "Well, he sat on the potty for about a half hour with Goodnight Moon . I think he taught himself to read, but that's about it."
    "You could've gotten me some milk while you were up," Greg said, frowning at his sister. "You never think of anyone b-b-but yours-s-self."
    Lily laughed, a few cookie crumbles spilling from her mouth onto her standard-issue navy blue cardigan, which Sam noticed was buttoned once at her navel, barely covering a Nine Inch Nails T-shirt. Sam marveled at the fact that Lily had been at Park Tudor School exactly two days and was already pushing the envelope on the dress code. Where did the girl get her nerve?
    "You lost the use of your limbs now, too?" Lily asked Greg. "You need occupational therapy now in addition to speech therapy?"
    "S-s-screw you, Lily."
    "Bite me, weasel."
    "Stop it!" Sam felt her entire body vibrate with regret. When did her beautiful little children become so caustic? When had they started hating each other? She remembered the two of them—just a year apart—playing Fisher-Price farm together, taking baths together, sleeping together. Until he was seven, the ultimate reward for Greg was the right to snuggle next to his sister in her double bed, where the two of them would laugh and talk until they drifted off to sleep. Sam had often checked on the two of them before she went to bed herself, observing how Lily's hand draped protectively over her little brother's forearm, their faces slack with the deep sleep of innocence.
    Her two oldest kids didn't look so innocent at the moment. They looked angry. They looked tired. They looked unsure. And she couldn't exactly blame them.
    "It's going to be all right, guys," Sam said, reaching across the table to touch them. "All I ask is that you give Park Tudor one grading period, and if by the spring you don't like it, I won't force you to go. I'll even send you back to Tech if you like, or anywhere else you want. We can even buy a house in the district you prefer."
    Lily blinked. "Seriously?"
    "Yes. I want you to be happy. But I also want you to have the best opportunities—art, drama, music, foreign language, you name it—and you have more of a say at Park Tudor than at Tech. You have more control over what you do. But if you're not happy, what's the point?"
    Lily and Greg looked at each other, then at Sam. Greg narrowed his eyes. "Is this child psychology or something?" Sam watched him get up from the table, open one of