The class stayed outside for the rest of their playground time, until 10:45. While the kids continued to run around and play, Michael and Fiona sat on a bench on the side of the playground. Periodically a kid would come visit, tell them about his or her dog, stroke Fiona's hair, whatever. These drive-by interactions were a breeze compared to their last half hour.
Charlie finally acknowledged his aunt and uncle. He ran to them and crawled onto Michael's lap. Then he made himself extra comfortable, resting his head on Michael's thighs and stretching out his legs on Fiona. He crossed his legs at the ankles and rested his arms behind his head. All he needed was an umbrella drink.
"You having fun, Charlie?" Fiona asked.
"I wanted to get a flag," he said, pouting.
"I know you did, cutie. You and Uncle Michael and I can play again at our house sometime, all right? Maybe you can get a flag then." Charlie seemed satisfied with that answer.
As Charlie watched his buddies from the safety of his uncle's lap, Fiona looked at Michael and gestured with her head.
"What?" he mouthed.
"Talk to him," she mouthed back.
Michael looked down at Charlie, then back to Fiona. "Later," he said quietly.
Fiona huffed. "It's not hard," she whispered.
"Obviously it is to me," he snapped at a regular volume. He and she both looked surprised at his outburst. "I'll talk to him later," he said softly, refusing to look at her.
A few minutes later, everyone headed back to the classroom. The kids walked back in a line, except Charlie, who got a ride on Michael's shoulders. The teachers wordlessly sprang into action when they arrived at the room. Claudia shepherded the kids to the sink to wash their hands. Teresa pulled a large bowl covered with plastic wrap from the fridge. The ladies in the kitchen had cubed some cheddar and Monterey Jack cheeses and stemmed a bunch of grapes for the kids' snack. She doled out little servings on paper napkins. Virginia poured sixteen Dixie cups of water. By the time they had the tables set, hand washing was just about finished. The teachers helped all the kids get seated for their snack.
Michael and Fiona stayed out of the way. They watched this well-oiled machine in action and felt grateful they hadn't been in charge of snack.
Virginia reached back into the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of iced tea. "Would you like some?" she called to them.
"Please," Fiona said. She and Michael walked to the fridge, where Virginia handed them two adult-sized Styrofoam cups. "I don't know how you all do this," Fiona said, taking a sip from hers. "You don't even look tired. We're about to pass out."
"Aww, no, you're doing great. They had such a good time out there. They'll be talking about this for a month, easy."
Michael perked up at the word month. He smiled broadly at Fiona. She did not smile back.
"Listen, if you'd like to head out, it's just fine. They had a great time with you two."
"No, no, no, we're happy to stay for the rest of the time. 11:30, right?" Fiona confirmed.
"Right. The rest of the morning should be much easier. We're doing science today."
"Oh yeah? What are you doing?"
"It's actually a chemistry lesson for them," Virginia replied.
"Fabulous! I've got a background in chemistry," Fiona said.
"Oh, that's right, from cooking! What good luck."
Fiona looked like a deer in the headlights. "Mm hmm, from cooking," she stammered. "So what will they be doing?"
"Making volcanoes. Warm water, a little dish soap, baking soda, and vinegar. Wait. Baking soda or baking powder? I'll have to look. I always get them mixed up."
"Baking soda," Fiona told her. "It's sodium bicarbonate. The vinegar is acetic acid. They make carbon dioxide when they're combined, and the CO2 is what causes the eruption."
Michael nudged her with his foot and glared at her. She ignored him.
"Wow!" Virginia said. "Who knew cooking was so educational? I love it. Maybe we'll have you do the lesson!" She walked across the room to get supplies.
Michael kicked Fiona's foot.
"What?" she snapped.
"Dial it down, Einstein. Enough with the chemistry."
"Einstein was a physicist."
"Fine. Dial it down, Mendeleev."
"What's the problem?"
"You are supposed to be a regular person with a regular person's knowledge of chemistry. Your brothers taught you how to blow shit up when you were eight. Regular people's brothers don't do that."
She snorted. "Whatever, Michael. You're being ridiculous."
"Keep it up, Fi, and at some point she's going to ask you about actual cooking. And then what are you gonna say?"
She harumphhed, turned, and stomped away.
Forty-five minutes, three messy tables, and sixteen delighted toddlers later, Fiona and Michael said their goodbyes, kissed Charlie, and headed out.
If you're not used to it, spending time with a roomful of preschoolers will knock you flat on your ass.
Four minutes after they walked in their front door, they'd both peed and were asleep on their bed. This was the kind of nap where you don't even bother to take your clothes off, because that would rob you of precious seconds of sleep.
Michael woke up first. He blinked away the sleep in his eyes, moistened his dry mouth, and looked to his left. Fiona had such a little face under all that hair. She was lying on her stomach, her right cheek on the pillow and her hair splaying all around her. A little wet spot had formed near the corner of her mouth on the pillow case. Michael saw it and was struck, like punched-in-the-gut, fall-on-your-knees struck, with pangs of love. It's funny, isn't it, what will remind you how much you love someone. That square inch of dampness screamed out that Fiona is human. Fallible. Somehow frail.
So he stayed in bed for the next forty minutes, soaking her in.
Author's Note: A very quick wrap-up of the visit to Charlie's class. The next chapter is going to be a doozie. Originally, it was a part of this chapter, but the difference in mood was too great. Thank you all for the sweet comments, and please let me know what you think!