Free Carpool Confidential by Jessica Benson

“Please?”
    Maria crossed her arms. “No. She’s dangerous.”
    Yeah, you could die of old age waiting for her to make her way out the door.
    â€œThere’s probably still a hipster or two left wandering aimlessly around Williamsburg now that the investment bankers have taken over,” Charlotte said.
    â€œBring her in here,” I hissed.
    â€œI’m not cleaning it if she has another accident,” Maria warned.
    â€œFine,” I hissed, hand still over the receiver. She opened the door wider, letting Cad amble in.
    â€œThey might as well just rename the whole place, you know those Welcome to Brooklyn signs you get when you cross the bridge? Change them to Welcome to the Borough of Domestic Bliss,” Charlotte drawled. “No entry without a stroller.”
    Cadbury threw herself down on my feet and went to sleep. “I can’t speak for anyone else,” I said, “but I don’t think you want my take on domestic bliss at the moment. And frankly, the sushi’s not exactly Nobu.”
    â€œWhat are you talking about?”
    â€œBlue Ribbon’s pretty good, but—”
    â€œBack up to your hit and run on the domestic bliss thing.”
    â€œRick left me.” The second time I’d said it out loud. It didn’t feel significantly better than the first, but I was at least already sitting this time. Would the thousandth time still bring the same misery? I tried to breathe my way through the agony.
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œGo ahead and tell me why you never liked him.”
    She laughed. I’d forgotten how great a laugh she had. “What makes you think I didn’t like him?”
    â€œI have that sixth sense,” I said. Then, “Maura Ginsberg told me one time after thirteen Appletinis.” Maura was another Columbia J School classmate.
    â€œMaura has a big mouth.”
    â€œMaybe,” I agreed, “but I still want to know.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause”—as I answered, I started to feel like I was almost poised on understanding—“he’s such a standup guy, everyone loves him.” Or everyone other than my mother, but I already knew the hows and whys of that. “As far as I know, this is the only shitty thing he’s ever done. I want someone to tell me something bad so I can see if it makes sense. I need help reconciling this.”
    â€œI still remember the first time I met him. Remember, you brought him to that awful party Ben Strohmeyer threw after he had his letter to the editor accepted by the Village Voice ?”
    I laughed. “Actually, I think it was an op-ed.”
    â€œWhatever.” She paused. “I wonder whatever happened to Ben. Anyway, Rick, I don’t know. You want this straight up, Cassie? Really?”
    I glanced out the window at the serene blue stretch of harbor under an achingly clear sky. Was my world about to unfurl even more? “Does it involve Rick hitting on you or anything?”
    â€œNo, nothing like that.” She was quiet.
    â€œThen, yes.”
    â€œOK. I always felt like he never wanted you to be more than an accessory to him and his life.”
    I knew what she was getting at and felt the need to defend him—both of us—here. “Me staying home was a mutual decision, you know, not anything he dictated.”
    â€œBut why not keep a hand in? Writing’s one of the few things you can do and stay home. Of all of us in our class, you probably had the most ability. Unfortunately it was coupled with the least belief in yourself.”
    â€œHow is that his fault?”
    â€œIt’s not. It’s just a shame you ended up with someone content to believe that too instead of pushing or encouraging or whatever it is you needed. You always wanted to be the straight reporter, which wasn’t what you were cut out for. You’re neurotic as hell, but it translates into something quirky and funny on the