3. I'm too busy moping around

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The weekend shift was infamously named the devil's incarnate. It was twice as much work, thrice as much abuse and I had half the will and motivation to get through it.

Add to that; Haven had been running short on staff the last few weeks, something that seemed to exponentially increase the workload for the poor lot that were actually on shift. This is what happens when people lead a life outside of work. Funny that.

Red on the other hand, didn't seem to consider taking days off work as a necessity and in fact during my seven year tenure at Haven - I have yet to see her take a day off. The gang all had bets on when the day would finally come. Over the years it had turned into something of an inside joke. Personally, I figured we had a better chance of spotting the Loch Ness monster or catching Bigfoot than ever witness Red partaking in human things like vacations.

I'm whizzing past tables and dodging annoyingly oblivious slow walkers all while trying to perform a three plate balancing act even Cirque du Soleil would be proud of. I just about manage to offload the plates at table sixteen without splashing soup and sauce everywhere.

I take a moment for a quick breather, wiping the sweat off my face and for once glad for the rush hour mayhem. The thing I figured was the more I worried about the food and the customers the less brain space there was for me to dwell on what I'd overheard on the playground.

Unfortunately, no matter how chaotic the place became there was still a slither of brain that kept zinging at me to speak to Alex about it. We hadn't really spoken since Gerry's - partly because our days hadn't been synced enough to actually see each other for more than an hour but also my active avoidance of talking to Alex other than benign chit chat.

But as the days go by I feel the anxiety weight growing heavier and heavier and I wonder whether I'd be able to walk by the time this shift ended. More forceful than necessary I jam the pin onto the order board as though that could ever compensate for my shitstorm misgivings.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by the bell indicating several orders were ready. It's like that for most of the day, me racing back and forth to the kitchen, the orders coming faster than I did in bed.

"Enjoy your food! I shout halfway across the hall, having forgotten my customary waitress spiel to the couple at table four.

By five the flood of customers showed no signs of abating.

Jesus, it was like sharks at feeding time - I might as well start tossing hunks of meat into the thrashing waters. I slide across a plate of steak decorated with dill and lemon at table three - glad for the fact that at least here there was no danger of my hand being bitten off.

"Enjoy your food." I didn't even get to fully commit to my fake waitress smile when I was rudely cut off.

"Where's the peppercorn sauce?"

It's a woman; well dressed and face twisted into that typical supercilious Upper East sneer. She doesn't even spare me a glance when she continues, "I explicitly asked for peppercorn sauce. How am I supposed to eat this now?"

Scratch that, I'd rather deal with actual sharks - at least they were well mannered enough to be grateful when fed.

"So what are you waiting for?" The woman's whining drags me out of my thoughts, "Now my steak's is going cold."

Does she not know I'm in a foul mood? Sadly for her though she has chosen the wrong day to assert her rude bullshit onto me.

I face her squarely, "As you can see I have two hands and it takes me two round trips to bring all your food to the table. Maybe I could have used my third hand? Or should I have carried it on my head instead so I could have spared you the traumatic thirty second catastrophe of a sauceless steak?"

"Okay…" She glances at my badge and addresses me by name - presumably a power move ploy. "Look Piper…Can I speak to the manager. I don't like your tone at all."

"Speaking," I lightly respond.

She furrows her brows in confusion, "What?"

"I'm the manager. What seems to be the problem?"

She's seething, nostrils flaring and looking curiously witch-like. I'm almost inclined to check under her chair for the broomstick and cauldron she must surely own.

"Is this a fucking joke? This is by far the worst service I have experienced, I'll be sure to write a-"

"Here." I slap down our complaints form in front of her, "That should speed things up."

She's momentarily speechless before she goes full throttle bitch mode, "Listen, you. I don't know who you think you are but I have never had such disgusting-"

"The form." I abruptly cut her off, "It needs to go on the form. Unfortunately it's Haven policy, we only accept the written form. I could get you a pen if you'd like?"

She's already gathering her things before storming off in a whoosh of angry fumes.

Oh fuck.

As much as that woman was in the wrong - that wasn't me. Yes, I have tantrums - even more volatile than Toby's but I have never ever lost my fuse at a customer before.

What was happening to me? Where had all that viciousness come from?

I stop in my tracks and contemplate - maybe it's something I've always had - something that would never be compatible with a skill like fine parenting. Was this an embodiment of the Carol Chapman legacy? I don't know but one thing's for sure, I gotta talk to Alex about it. Whether I liked it or not.

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"Mom! Look! I draw a dinosaur today…and the teacher said mine was the best. It's like big and-"

Toby launches himself at Alex from halfway across the playground, his little body weaving with surprising agility through the crowds of waiting parents.

We made it a point - well actually I made a point of picking Toby up together at least once a week, apparently it helps kids see their parents as a united front and be less likely to turn into rebellious little monsters and or psychopaths. At least that's what the two hundred different parent help books I've read always seemed to preach.

We both barely catch a few words among the lightning speed chatter. Toby speech had two categories: fast and even faster.

But Alex forever the patient one, scoops him up with both hands, and with exaggerated triumph holds him aloft, "Woah bud that's amazing! You definitely have to show me it when we get home."

"It's blue and green and yellow. But not green, because the green crayon was took by Connor."

"Taken." Alex corrects him, ruffling his hair.

We all pile into the car and are instantly stuck behind a growing queue of cars.

"Move!" The shrill sound of a car horn temporarily deafens me. "I'm sorry I didn't realise the road has all of a sudden turned into a free for all giant parking lot."

I make a beeline for Alex's hand just as she was about to press the horn again, "Jesus, Alex…really? Are you one of those drivers now?" I quickly glance back at Toby who looked much too excited by the unlikely entertainment to take notice of Alex's outburst.

"Only when these asshole drivers continue to exist." Alex answered, her voice low so that Toby couldn't hear in the back. "I bet you it's that Kirsty with that bratty kid, that woman must have had a stroke in the part that controls spatial awareness because that's the only explanation for that." She points at the double parked Porsche, and to add insult to the injury it was sat right under the no parking sign no less and now currently blocking most of late afternoon rush traffic. "That or she's just plain thick."

"Mom? Why are you beeping at that car?"

"It's okay, Tobes," Alex answers, "Your mom here is just putting out a reminder some people don't deserve licenses."

"What's a license?"

"Something that can apparently be picked up off the back of cereal boxes these days."

I'm supposed to be all indignant but I can't help but burst out into a fit of laughs, a few stray giggles escaping past my hastily covered mouth. It's an easier response than the gnarling of my stomach ever since I heard Kirsty's name.

Alex catches my eyes and throws me a wink, her smile all roguish, "See? Even your mommy agrees with me."

I playfully nudge her in her side, my heart not really into the banter, "Yeah...don't you dare make me an accessory in this."

"Mommy!" Toby turns to me, dragging me out of my thoughts, his face all innocent and expectant, "Can we get pizza, please please please!"

I suspect the giant Papa John sign we just drove past may have something to do with it. With the adorability factor cranked up like that, only a soulless witch would refuse…plus the thought of pizza now suddenly reawakened by cravings so I easily concede, "Yeah sure, why not."

"You're in a good mood today." Alex remarks, as she pulled through an intersection. "I'm glad."

I find myself smiling awkwardly and seriously consider whether this was the best time to bring up that but the right moment had already sailed past when Toby suddenly stops his incessant shaking of my shoulder and cocks his head in surprise, "Really?"

"Really, what?"

"Are you really saying yes to pizza? Like really?" Toby asks again, his face a picture of amazement.

Was it really that shocking that I said yes to something? What was going on?

I look out of the window, "Yes, really."

"But you always say no to everything."

"Well sweetie, I'm not now." I respond, more tersely than I wanted, I look to Alex whose gaze is deliberately set frontwards with an expression that said please don't involve me in this.

I let out an emphatic huff, "Okay, spill it out."

Alex shrugs her shoulders as she manoeuvres the car into the drive, "What? I have nothing to say."

"Well whatever your face wants to say."

I could read Alex's face like a book in the dark, she should really know this by now.

We're climbing out of the car, Toby running well ahead of us, when I give her a purposeful look, "And?"

Alex drops her head, hands shoved deep in her pockets, "Okay…please don't take this the wrong way, babe. But you've kinda set us up as the good cop / bad cop pairing. And it's maybe something Toby's picked up on, hence his surprise at the pizza thing. You know how kids are."

I obviously opt for the take it very personal route, "What do you mean?"

Alex doesn't answer, instead I follow it up with another question, "So I'm the bad cop in this I presume?"

My mind is running in cartwheels. Bad cop didn't mean a cop who was inherently bad at his job but one who was purported to be an asshole and liked to fuck around with his suspects - it's that that bothers me a whole lot - that specific connotation that apparently perfectly describes my motherly skills.

Alex squirms, clearly already hating the conversation suddenly veering into arctic lands. But I'm on a plight to find out in the utmost of details whether I am in fact turning into my own mother - or had I always been her? My brain latches onto the overheard comments from Kirsty et al - I feel myself going cold.

My dear mother, who favoured the military handbook approach in rearing kids; all crack of dawn drills and absence of emotion may have had more of an impact on me then previously thought.

I swallow back a roil of acid that seems to have funnelled its way into the back of my throat. I did carry half of Carol's genes and in the interest of statistical probability at least one or two of the shitty mom genes must have been passed onto me.

"No." Alex sighs wearily, "What I mean is…you can sometimes be a little much. And I think...I think it comes across as bad cop." She shrugs her shoulders, "It's not a big deal, Piper. Let's just drop it, yeah?"

I know I shouldn't take this to heart, but it fucking hurts, "So we've gone from a maybe to a definite. So which is it, Alex?" I come to an abrupt standstill at the door. Thankfully, Toby had already skirted inside.

Alex just purses her lips. She knows not to oil the flames of my temper but her undying patience just serves to ignite the brewing fire even further.

"I just want to know what you meant."

"What do you want me to say, Piper? You're clearly not happy with any answer I give."

"You expect me to not to respond to what you said? You can't say shit Alex and tell me to just forget about it." I force myself to keep my voice down, trying to keep it as far away from yelling territory, and instead stage whisper, "And while we're on the subject of good cop bad cop...of course when you're always playing the good cop it automatically always makes me the bad cop."

It's the first time Alex's face falters, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Is she really being that obtuse? "C'mon Alex, you know exactly what I mean. You treat Toby more as a friend than you do a parent for the most part. No wonder I'm seen as the bad mom in this."

Alex's eyes flash with annoyance, the softness vanishing in an instant, "I never said you were a bad mother. I don't know what you're trying to imply here but we both know you're talking utter fucking bullshit right now."

"Y'know that kid favours you more than me." My jaw is set tight, the ugly truth contorting my muscles, "I'm no mom and you're obviously yes mom."

Alex clenches her eyes shut, "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous?"

"Jealous?" I throw her an astonished look, nearly spitting the word out. "I'm sorry I don't want our son to turn into some kind of renegade runaway who happily defies the rules because he's never been taught the meaning of no."

Alex scoffs, "You're beginning to sound like your mother now." She starts to turn back into the house, "I can't deal with this right now, I'm going inside."

My eyes turn wide and my hand lashes out, jolting her to a stop, "Don't you fucking dare bring my mother into this."

Alex looks down at my hand still grabbing hold of her arm, before looking back up at me like she didn't even know who I was anymore.

"What do you want for me, Piper? I can read between the lines here and see you're there's clearly something else going here."

There's an unpleasant unfurling in my stomach, "You're the one who's painting me as some kind of sociopathic tiger mom, Alex. Don't you think I've noticed that over the years? Don't you think I've seen the way you roll your eyes at how I do things? So don't try to turn this back onto me."

"What? You're being plain ridiculous now."

"Am I?"

"You're imagining things and it's making you believe things that are not real."

I let out a disbelieving laugh, angry for not being taken seriously, "You know what? Fuck you, I'm done with this"

Alex holds her hands up, her tone full of sarcasm, "Sorry if I'm not as pedantic about raising kids like you. Just because it's not your way doesn't mean it's the wrong way."

I jab my finger at her, my skin prickling uncomfortably, "I didn't realise setting boundaries for kids is what's classed as the devil's work these days." My voice kept rising and rising, "I guess I'll have to take a leaf out of your book of yes fucking mom 101 to know I'm doing things right."

Alex pauses and rolls her glasses into her hair, "Ah I get it. This is about you…not me. This is about you projecting your insecurities and fucking confidence issues onto me. This is about you all worried Toby likes me more than he does you…which is so fucking ridiculous a concept, Piper. I don't even know what to say."

I reeled back, momentarily silenced by the unexpected verbal blow. It's much too close to the truth and I shouldn't even be surprised but it still caught me completely off guard. I couldn't find the words to respond with, couldn't decide, couldn't access them.

I've got tears jabbing at the backs of my eyeballs, which is just stupid but more to the point embarrassing. God, I hope I'm coming onto my period because PMS would be the only rational explanation as to why I just want to fucking bawl my eyes out.

Alex was right, maybe I'm not as good as a mother I thought I was. Maybe I'm just destined to carry on the legacy of my parents and I should just stop resisting the powers of genetics. I wrap my arms around me, feeling dejected and cold all of a sudden.

"I'm going inside. It's getting cold." I mumble, desperate to make it to the end of the sentence without bumbling into a heap of tears.

Alex, surprised at my unlikely deference looks all tense, her eyes glinting with rising discomfort.

My hands are shaking so I ball them into fists, the nails digging into my skin. Nobody says anything when we both enter the house, the silence vying for our attention. Fortunately Toby was too engrossed in the cartoon show playing on TV to notice anything amiss with his parents. But we both have our automatic happy face on reserve in case he was to glance our way.

Alex follows me into the corridor and gently runs a hand over my arm, "Listen, Piper…-"

"It's fine, Alex. Really." My voice wavers dangerously, "It's getting late and I should…" I end up gesturing the last part of the sentence by pointing towards the bedroom.

She's searching my face for encouragement but when none comes, fully turns to me, "I'm sorry I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry. Shitty things are said in the heat of the moment-"

Wow, I felt like an actual piece of shit. Of course if wasn't her fault. As they say the truth hurts and this one hurt like a fireball of a bitch.

"I said it's fine." I mutter in what was the most unconvincing declaration of I'm fine ever, "I don't really want to talk about it anymore. Let's leave it there, please." I find myself pulling away from her, "It's…it's getting late and I'm super tired..."

I can sense Alex hesitate beside me but to her credit she doesn't press any further. There's an awkward period as we walk through the corridor, the blaring tunes of Power Rangers creating a sort of discordance that made the air around us even more agonising.

I'm stood at the foot of the stairs about to climb up, when Alex asks, "Are you going to come down for pizza later?"

My eyes don't leave the floor, "No…I mean yeah." I try to shake the buzzy fog my head seems to be in, "I don't know. I uh…I'll let you know."

The silence stretches between us.

It's Alex who eventually brings it to an end. She leans forward, squeezes my hand which isn't helping with the remaining stoic thing and says okay in a hopeful voice that breaks my heart into smithereens.

I'm so fucking stupid and selfish.

I've not even spent a second mulling around in the bedroom before I'm hit with that unfortunate truth bomb. My pacing halts. The room suddenly feels hot and uncomfortable, the walls starting to close in on me. So I head to the balcony and step out, glad for the night air cooling down the stress heat no doubt emanating from me.

I slump into one of the deck chairs and ponder over the last ten minutes that may as well have been a hundred years. Of course it wasn't Alex's fault I have unresolved inadequacy issues and she sure as hell didn't deserve my passive aggressive let's take it personal drama. And in the usual Chapman standard operating procedure I do a runner when things became even marginally heated. I basically had a PhD in melodrama.

I glance up and try to distract myself from the doom and gloom thoughts swirling inside my head by counting the stars dotted in the night sky. That quickly came to an end when I could count only three, the rest of the constellations washed out by the bright glare of city lights. Easily resigned, I lean back and let out a long frustrated sigh - I could always count on New York's light pollution to sabotage any escape from my thoughts.

I take a deep breath and try and reign my emotions in but it only made me feel lightheaded and sick. I was starving and the smell of pizza drifting in through the nooks of the closed door was definitely making my hunger pangs turn from tiny little churns to full on giant icicles piercing my stomach walls.

But I couldn't face going downstairs and look into Alex's eyes.

Truth be told I felt like a failure, an embarrassment - the rational and logical me knew that was stupid but the emotionally driven heart was having none of that.

Suddenly the door flies open and it's not a hot second later when a familiar little bundle of energy clambered onto my lap.

I somehow manage to drag out my cheery mom voice, "Hey honey!"

He looks up at me; dark tufty hair sticking out in all directions and looking extra levels of cute. God bless that untainted unconditional love kids possessed. I clutch onto him even tighter. I mean who knew how long that was going to last for.

"We had PIZZA! I had the one with tommy and cheese."

My fingers absently run through his hair, "I think you mean tomato and cheese, Tobes."

"Yeah, tommy and cheese…but mommy why didn't you come for pizza?"

I feel myself hesitate, "Mommy wasn't feeling too hungry."

"Really?" He cocks his head in complete amazement, presumably shocked at how any human being could reject the entices of pizza.

"What about you, did you like yours then?"

"Uh huh. Mom let me have two whole pieces." He held up his fingers up to emphasise the number, "And I finished all of them, except the hard bits."

"The crusts?"

"Yeah the crushes…they hurt my teeth."

A smile creeps up my face, five year old's speech was just the greatest.

We sit like that for a while when Toby nudges me in the side, "Mommy?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is mom mad at you?"

The comment instantly snapped me out of serenity. I tilt my head down and look him in the eyes. His curiously expectant expression a carbon copy of Alex's. It felt like the best and worst thing in the world right now.

"Why? What makes you think that, sweetie?"

"He shrugs and rubs his eyes, looking all uncertain, "I don't…I don't know.

"Hey, hey." I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a tight hug, "Your mom and I love each other very much and that is never ever going to change. And we both love you very much too…more than anything in this whole world."

He snaggles his way free, "More than pizza?"

I can't help but laugh, "Oh yeah, even pizza." I glance at the clock, "I think it's time for bed, young man. Go brush your teeth and I'll tuck you into bed."

He climbs of my lap, his face all sullen, "Do I have to?"

"Yes."

He looks like he's on the verge of crying, "I hate it so much."

There's that bad feeling again, that almost panicked doubt when faced with such innocuous decision making. It's absurd but these last few weeks and especially the last hour is making me overthink and over-analyse every bit of my interaction with Toby.

Is this too Carol or is this too bohemian earth mother?

Now the dilemma was my son's not going to like me if I force this onto him or concede and accept he'll have seven cavities by nine years old and be toothless by his teens.

If only there was a degree in mothering - I'd major in what the fuck do I do and minor in please help me.

Before I've made my decision he's already ran out of the room - probably to Alex - and I'm once again left alone.

I make the executive decision to get ready for bed and forfeit returning downstairs altogether. I somehow manage to convince myself it was the right thing to do. It was flimsy but it held just enough to allow me to eventually fall into a restless sleep.

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AN / happier times are a-coming...I promise