Seven Year Switch (2010) by Claire Cook Read Free Book Online Page B

was strong. I was invincible.
    I let out a roar and thrust upward as hard as I could. Hard candy rained down on my head, surprisingly painful.
    â€œWhoa, baby,” T-shirt Tom said. Somebody whistled. The class broke into cheers and applause.
    When I pulled off my blindfold, Seth was standing in the doorway.
    Ethel reached for my broomstick, as if she were afraid I might ride off on it. “I knew it was a boyfriend,” she whispered through her orange lips.
    Â 
    â€œ SEE YOU NEXT WEEK ,” I called, in what I hoped was a peppy, optimistic voice.
    â€œWhere are we going next time?” T-shirt Tom asked, probably so he could choose a coordinating shirt.
    â€œYou’ll have to wait and see-eee,” I managed to say, though I could feel the words sticking in my throat.
    Just about everyone stopped to bend down and grab a handful of candy on the way out the door. Too late, I remembered the paper lunch bags Anastasia had helped me paint in bright fiesta colors to use as candy bags.
    A few of my students stopped to talk to Seth as they passed him.
    â€œNice to meet you, honey,” Bev said, even though she hadn’t.
    â€œYou, too,” Seth said.
    Ethel fluffed her orange hair as she walked by. “Take good care of our Jill.”
    â€œShe’s a real catch, that one,” T-shirt Tom said. One of his sidekicks nodded.
    â€œMmm,” Seth said noncommittally.
    When the last student was gone, I glanced in his direction, keeping my eyes just to the side of his face.
    â€œSit,” I said.
    Seth sat. He chose a place way down at the opposite end of the long rickety table, about as far away from me as he could possibly get, not counting Africa.
    I took my time picking up the last of the candy. Finally, I stood up and actually looked at him. His hair was still long, butit had been recently cut. He was wearing dark dress pants and a white button-down shirt with sage green pinstripes. And shoes, shiny leather ones that tied and everything.
    I took a moment to blow on my blistering knuckles.
    â€œAre you okay?” he asked.
    I looked at him. “A little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”
    He took a deep breath and gripped the edge of the table. “Okay, let’s get it over with,” he said. “Just say it. All of it. Get it all out.”
    â€œRight,” I said. “You take off for seven years, I yell at you for seven seconds, and we’re even.”
    He stared at me with flat eyes. “Then tell me what you want me to do. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”
    I wanted him to find a way to rewind the last seven years, to make it all go away. I wanted to wake up together on a lazy weekend morning in our old apartment, with the most beautiful little three-year-old in the world. I wanted to curl up in bed together and read the Sunday paper, while Anastasia colored all over the comics with her new fat crayons.
    Seth was the official weekend breakfast cook, so eventually he’d get up and make pancakes on the secondhand griddle we’d found at a flea market. Not just any pancakes, but pancake works of art. For Anastasia, it might be pancake circles linked together to create Minnie Mouse ears, with sliced banana eyes and a frozen blueberry smile. Maybe a big pancake heart for me, covered in blueberry bumps. Seth was endlessly creative, and the best part of breakfast was not knowing whether he’d come back with a family of pancake dinosaurs or a bouquet of pancake flowers.
    â€œGood job, Daddy,” Anastasia would say, and we’d all dig in. Eating breakfast in bed with a toddler was a messy proposition, but blueberry-stained sheets seemed a small price to pay for mornings like that.
    What I wanted, what I really, really wanted, was for Seth to find the place and the time—the exact moment—right before he decided to leave us. Then I wanted him to make a different decision, so we could still be a family, and I wouldn’t