Balancing Acts (18 page)

“Charlie has a boyyyfriennnd,” teased Sabine, as the women promptly burst into giggles.

“Shut up!” shrieked Charlie. She felt like she was in middle school. She looked at her watch.

“Shit, I have my next class in five minutes!” She ripped a chunk of her muffin off and popped it into her mouth. “See you ladies next week!” she sang as she promptly disappeared into the back room.

“Guess that's the end of that conversation,” remarked Naomi. “She is in no mood to be teased, huh?”

“Yeah, she's funny about him,” replied Felicity. “The attraction is so obvious, but she refuses to acknowledge it.”

“She's in love denial,” agreed Sabine. “Okay, I have to jet. See you gals next week!”

“I'm right behind you,” said Bess. “Bye!” They took off down the stairs.

“Hey Naomi, have you had a chance to mess around with some website ideas at all?” asked Felicity. Naomi froze. The truth was that she had completely forgotten about her promise. She had been wrestling with a bear of a project all week. Between that and her body anxiety, she just hadn't had the time.

“Some ideas have been marinating,” she replied, avoiding Felicity's hopeful gaze. “But I don't really have anything concrete yet.”

“Of course,” replied Felicity, her disappointment evident.

“But I promise, next week I'll have something. Some ideas, at the very least.”

“Oh, terrific! I am just so excited about this, I can't tell you,” she explained. “And grateful.”

“Please! It's no big deal, Felicity. Sorry it's taking me so long.” Naomi vowed to have a rough idea of where she wanted to take the website by next Saturday. It wasn't going to be easy—she had another (paying) project to finish up that week—but it would be good to get her mind off her mystery symptoms. Plus, this was a real creative opportunity for her. No client was dictating her style here. The Prana site could be whatever she wanted it to be.

Naomi put her hat on. “Okay, see you next week, Felicity. And tell Charlie I'm sorry if I embarrassed her with the whole Mario thing.”

“You got it. And don't worry about Charlie. She could use a good tease. Girl takes herself way too seriously most of the time.”

Naomi grinned. “Don't we all,” she replied. With a final wave, she took off down the stairs.

A
s Naomi headed home, she considered the website. In her head, she was assembling the home page like a puzzle—
copy goes here, photos go here, links go here. . .
Her train of thought was interrupted by the distinct vibration of her cell phone in her jacket pocket. She pulled it out to find a text from Cecilia. “Where are you?” Maternal panic enveloped her like a dense fog. Her heart raced as she dialed into her voice mail. Three messages?
Shit.
It was all she could do to not drop the phone and just take off sprinting toward home.

Message one: Noah had broken his arm on the monkey bars. Cee was taking him to Brooklyn Hospital. Meet her there. Message two: Where is she? Noah is hysterical. Should Cee call Gene? He needs a parent. Message three: She called Gene. He's on his way. Naomi hailed a cab to the hospital in a daze. Her baby had hurt himself and she was nowhere to be found. Worse yet, Gene had been summoned to console Noah. Naomi's anxiety level was at Code Orange.
Breathe
. She looked out the window of the cab at Brooklyn going by.
Breathe.

“Naomi!” shrieked Cecilia as soon as she set foot in the emergency room.

“Hi,” she answered curtly, shrugging off Cee's attempt to hug her. “Is he okay? Where is he? What happened?”

“He's fine, Naomi,” answered Gene, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. Naomi's blood began to boil. The fact that he was there before her, apprising her of the situation, made her want to scream.

“Thank you so much for the update,” she snarled. Gene looked surprised and then backed away slightly. “Cee, tell me what happened,” Naomi demanded.

“We were just on the playground,” she explained. “Typical Saturday stuff. Noah was on the monkey bars with his friend Sophie and well. . .he fell. On his arm.”

“Where were you?” asked Naomi. She knew that Cecilia had been close by, but she couldn't fight the need to blame someone for Noah's accident.

Cecilia crossed her arms across her chest defensively. “Naomi, I was right there, watching. Don't ask me questions like that. C'mon now.”

“I'm sorry, Cee. I just. . .I'm just so worked up right now. You're excellent with Noah. I'm just so worried.”

“I know you are, Naomi. But really, he just fell and his arm happened to get in the way. I brought him here immediately. They're setting it now.”

“She called me only because she couldn't get a hold of you,” Gene explained. “I'm not trying to one up you, Naomi. I'm glad I could be here.”

“I know, Gene,” she answered, trying to maintain a composed tone of voice.
Suddenly he knows me so well that he feels comfortable calling me out on my insecurities? Jackass.
“This isn't about who's one upping who, though. My son. . .our son broke his arm. He's in a lot of pain. I wasn't able to be here as quickly as I would have liked so I'm a bit freaked out.” She exhaled, trying to release some of her anger. “All that said, I'm glad you could be here.”
But am I?
she thought. Part of her wished that Gene hadn't shown up. There was something about his maintaining his inefficiency as a father that was comforting to her, and realizing that made her feel awful. It was a very selfish way to feel when Noah was the one who would suffer. “Can I go in and see him?” she asked them both.

“I think so,” Cee replied. “Let's go tell the nurse that you're here.”

“He really is okay,” said Gene. “He's a tough little guy. I have to take off now, unfortunately. I was about to head to the airport for Paris when Cee called. I postponed my flight but my new one leaves in a couple hours.”

“Really?” asked Naomi, surprised. “Thanks, Gene. . .for coming. For being here.”

“It was no problem. You know, there's a reason I live nearby. Whenever you need an extra set of hands. . .I'm available.”

Naomi nodded. It was time for her to accept that fact. But why was it so hard to do so? “Tell Noah that Mini-Noah and I will call him from Paris. And that I'm proud of him for being such a soldier today, please.”

“Will do,” answered Naomi.

“Bye, Cecilia.” Gene gave her an awkward hug and took off, leaving the two women together.

“I'm sorry I had to call him, Naomi,” said Cecilia. “I just felt like I didn't have a choice and the doctors needed insurance forms.” Naomi nodded in response. She touched Cee's cheek. “I know. Now let's go see my baby.”

M
ama,” whispered Noah from his bed. He looked so tiny lying there, with his little arm encased in a giant white plaster claw. Naomi's heart surged upon seeing that he was indeed okay.

“Baby boy! I heard that you were the bravest boy on the whole planet today.” She sat on the bed and gingerly gathered him into a hug, careful to avoid his cast.

“I was,” he answered solemnly. “It hurts.”

“Oh, I know it does. Were you scared?” Noah nodded, his eyes filling with tears.

“Mama, where were you?”

“Oh honey, I am so sorry. I was in yoga class. I didn't get the message that you had hurt yourself until it was over. As soon as I heard, I ran here as fast as I could. Do you forgive me?”

“Yeah, I guess. I missed you, though,” Noah replied, his lip trembling.

“I know, baby. I feel terrible about it. Was it good to see your dad, though?”

“Yeah, it was good.”

Naomi brushed his hair back from his forehead. “He told me to tell you that you were the bravest soldier he had ever seen today, Noah.”

Noah smiled. “Is he here?”

“No, he had to leave for Paris with Mini-Noah. He said he'll call you later.” Naomi was proud of herself for relaying Gene's message without even the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“Okay. Can we go now?”

“Yeah, let's get out of here. We'll get you home and put you in bed. I'll make you a grilled cheese. Sound good?” Noah smiled weakly in response.

“And tater tots?” he asked.

“All the tater tots you can eat. A tater tot buffet.”

L
ater, at home, Naomi tucked Noah into his bed and sat for a moment in the living room with Cecilia. She put her head in her hands. The physical and emotional stress of the day had taken its toll.

“You okay?” asked Cecilia.

Naomi opened her eyes. In all the hubbub, she had almost forgotten that she was there. She smiled weakly. “Sure,” she answered. “I'm having a hard time with all of this, I guess.”

“With Gene?” asked Cecilia.

“Yeah, that's part of it, I suppose. I guess I never expected Gene to be a decent dad, you know? I kind of thought that he would half-ass his way through his weekly visits with Noah and then eventually fade out of the picture. Looks like he's serious about being a part of his life.”

“But isn't that good for Noah?”

“Well, of course it is!” Naomi was frustrated by Cecilia's tone. Sometimes Cecilia did this—acted like Naomi was one of her patients and not her friend. She supposed that was part and parcel of being friends with a budding psychologist, but she didn't like being dissected so obviously. “Jesus, Cee, I'm not a monster.”

“I didn't mean to suggest that you were,” Cee replied, hurt by Naomi's interpretation. “Of course this is difficult for you. I can't even imagine the complications.”

“Sorry I snapped at you,” replied Naomi. “You're right, it is so complicated. Today's events just piled on top of the whole Mini-Noah fiasco. I was already feeling a little hurt that Noah asked Gene to help with the project and didn't even think about asking me. . .and now today, my baby breaks his damn arm and guess who is there to save the day?”
Not to mention that my body is falling apart.
She wanted to tell Cee, but not now. There was way too much going on and she was so annoyed suddenly—by all of it.

Naomi massaged her biceps in an attempt to release some frustration. They ached from that morning's sun salutations. She could barely straighten them.

“Mmmm,” replied Cecilia, reigniting Naomi's annoyance.

“What does ‘mmmm' mean?”

“Okay, I swear I'm not pulling some undercover psychotherapy shit. I'm just talking as your friend, okay?”

“Okay,” answered Naomi, fighting the defensiveness that threatened to envelop her like a shield.

“Why would Noah ask you to take on Mini-Noah if he knows that the assignment is all about taking photographs? I mean, photography is what Gene does for a living, you know? I can't remember the last time I saw you with a camera. Noah is a savvy kid, after all. From that perspective alone it makes sense for Gene to handle the assignment.”

Naomi felt like Cecilia had just poured lighter fluid over her most vulnerable spot and was now dangling a burning match over it. “Cecilia, what are you talking about?” she asked, her annoyance palpable in the tone of her voice. “I design for a living. Noah knows that. He knows what a visual person I am!”

“Hey, forget I said anything,” replied Cecilia, getting up to collect her things. “That was poor judgment on my part. It's obvious that you don't want to talk about this right now.”

“Talk about what?” challenged Naomi. “Just because I don't have a camera strapped around my neck doesn't mean that I'm not a photographer!”

Cecilia sat back down and looked directly into Naomi's eyes. “Naomi, any time photography is mentioned, you tense up like crazy. You might think that your discomfort with it is a secret, but you're kidding yourself. I'm not saying that Noah picks up on it—I have no idea what goes on in his head—but he is a pretty perceptive kid.”

“That's right!” Naomi hissed back. “You have NO IDEA. You're not a mother. You're not dealing with an MIA dad back on the scene. YOU H
AV
E NO IDEA.” She was surprised by the intensity of her anger. She was unleashing all of her anxiety on Cee and, although she knew that was wrong, it felt damn good to release it.

“I'm going to go now,” said Cecilia, her discomfort evident. She got up and gathered her bag. “Listen, I didn't mean to—”

“Please, just go,” said Naomi. She put her head in her hands. “I know I'm overreacting right now, but I can't help it. Please go.” Naomi closed her eyes and rubbed her temples in frustration. She heard Cecilia close the door behind her. The apartment was suddenly—blissfully—silent. She heard the shuffle of Noah's socks on the wood floor. He approached her hesitantly.

“Mama?” he asked.

Naomi took a deep breath and sat up. “Yes, baby?”

“Where did Cee go?”

“She had some work to do.” Naomi wondered how much he had heard.

“Oh. But she didn't say bye to me.”

“I know, she had to run. She told me to say good-bye for her. And to give you one of these.” Naomi pulled him close and kissed his ripe cheek loudly. Noah giggled and squirmed.

“Mama, can I have my tater tots now?” he asked.

“Yes you can, my friend. Tater tot buffet coming up for the bravest boy in the world! Get back in bed and I will bring them to you.”

“Grilled cheese, too?”

“Grilled cheese, too.” Naomi wiped her eyes as Noah scampered back to his room. She stood up, noting the ache of her hamstrings. She felt bad about being an asshole to Cee, but she really had picked the wrong time to pry.
I'll apologize later,
Naomi decided, thinking about how lucky she was to have her around. She dug around in the kitchen for the frying pan, thinking about her photography and what Cee had said. Of course, it was all spot-on.

Maybe it was time for Naomi to pick up her camera again. Especially now, when she felt so vulnerable. Her best photos always came out of her darkest moments. A few photos would be good for her. Maybe even great.