Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (books for 8th graders .txt) 📕

about Andrew. A lot about what I liked about him. A lot about who he was. A lot about where we could go.

That consideration came at me full force one afternoon toward mid-September when I ducked out of work early to get Lexie to the pediatrician’s office.

“What are the chances our children would be sick at the same time?” Andrew’s voice echoed behind me as I stood in front of the receptionist. “And in September? December, I can understand. But summertime just ended...it’s fate.” Turning to face him, I hoped the heat flooding my cheeks wasn’t noticeable.

“Perhaps it is, Andrew.” I couldn’t hold back a smile at his flirtatious style.

The kids congregated in the play area and moved the child-sized chairs back and forth into rows. When they were finished, the space looked more like a private movie theater than the waiting area, sans the movie of course. Which apparently, the kids didn’t need.

“You’d never guess a few of them are sick, would you?” Andrew asked.

Nodding my head in agreement, I sat. “I’m pretty sure Lexie’s got an ear infection. She never cleared her cold, and she’s been waking up screaming in the middle of the night. They try not to medicate here, but today, I’m here for the antibiotic. I think they’ll give her one. In fact, if Lexie doesn’t have fluid on that eardrum of hers, I’ll owe you a coffee.”

My words surprised me. Practically inviting Andrew out for coffee. When did my conscience make that decision?

“Three kids and you can diagnose, right Doctor Mom?” Andrew’s words didn’t scoff me; they stated the facts. And it was true. After three kids and countless trips to the pediatrician, I’d learned a lot.

“Yeah, what about you? Sydney looks a little worse for wear. Lexie shouldn’t be tiring her out.”

“It’s my kid who shouldn’t be with yours because she might have strep.” Andrew leaned forward, as though he might pop out of his seat any minute to grab his daughter.

A quick shake of my head stopped him. “Oh, sorry to hear it. But it’s okay. For some strange reason, my kids don’t usually pick up strep. That’s one sickness I’m not versed in.”

“You’re lucky. It can be a pain, literally. I’m surprised she’s playing as much as she is. Sydney’s got everything: bright red throat, fever, stomach issues. I even felt the glands in her throat. Textbook case. If you ask me.”

“You’re very thorough.”

“I am when it comes to those I love.”

Andrew kept his gaze on the little ones as they played. But something in his chosen words registered with me, and an ache sliced through my gut. Then, he leaned in, over my armrest, so his lips were inches from my ear. His breath tickled the nape of my neck, which sent shivers down my spine.

“Jackie doesn’t gossip, you know that, but between what she’s said and what I’ve gathered, how’s life?”

As much as I wanted to turn toward him, to breathe him in, infuse myself with his essence, I was careful to move in the opposite direction from Andrew because he was still so close I smelled the soap he’d used that morning. I blinked away a few tears. Each day—keeping the facade intact, moving on with my oddly structured world—was so demanding, and here I was, in the doctor’s office with a man who showed sincerity. Thoughts twirled in my head and confusion mounted: what to reveal or what should I reveal? Keeping my answer simple and superficial seemed best. For my sake.

“We’re doing all right. Most days, we try to pretend everything is normal, but really, it’s not, and it hasn’t been for a while.”

“I can’t imagine it’s easy to be living in a situation like yours.”

He didn’t state specifics, probably because he didn’t have them. Even though we’d chatted and learned so much about one another—Andrew’s favorite color was blue, and he preferred no sugar in his strong coffee; he yearned to see social injustices rectified and hoped to retire by the time he was sixty-seven—I’d never offered too many details about Theo and me. Always referring to my “soon-to-be ex” seemed like a way to preserve the distance, helping me sever my heart from where it once had been.

“It’s an interesting one, and something I thought I’d handle. Now, I’m not so sure.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. For the most part we’re good: food on the table, cars in the garage, therapy appointments that aren’t always being canceled. But I wonder at times, if the kids shouldn’t also be seeing a therapist. I mean, how fucked-up—sorry for my mouth—is it that they see their parents living together but not?”

Andrew didn’t speak at first, a habit that meant he was thinking. “No family situation is exactly like the next one. Some are pretty, special, to say the least. And kids are resilient. But I’d listen to your gut on this one. We’ll be sending our kids to therapists for one thing or another, but if you don’t want it to be because of this and your—ex...ish?—then do something about it now.”

In the confines of the pediatrician’s office, my sick child’s laughter pulled at my heart. How long would the laughter last? Would my children be pulled into the darkness because of what we were doing? How was Theo’s behavior affecting them, and what would the repercussions be? Would there be any at all?

Andrew patted my knee, escorting me back to the conversation. “I’m sure it’s hard for your—”

“It is. It is. He’s still doing okay, for the most part, and he’s found a job that suits him. It’s just, he’s volatile, and some days, he’s an enigma. We’d decided on divorce for a reason, and I thought I’d experience some closure. There’s none involved when you still live together though. And I wonder about his psyche, his ability to hold it all together. I might not want to be married to him, but I still worry. About him, about the kids.” Swallowing back a lump in my throat, the