“Thomas, we really need to cut your nails.”

“NO!”

“It’s ok, mama,” says Bea, “Some people have long nails.”

I give her a look as though to say, “You’re not helping matters,” but instead I say, “Like who?”

“Like Poppa’s girlfriend.”

I pause, and for a moment I think she’s telling me that her grandfather is having an affair. She catches my confusion and says, “Andie.”

“Andie is Poppa’s wife.” I am thrown off course by the fact that Andie has been married to Bea’s grandfather for Bea’s entire life; why would she think otherwise?

“But Grandma Jan is Poppa’s wife,” says Bea.

“Was,” I correct her. “They got divorced a long time ago when daddy was still a kid. Poppa is married to Andie now.”

I look back down at Thomas’ fingernails, willing the moment to pass but knowing exactly what will come next; I can practically see the wheels in Bea’s head turning as she looks into space, thinking, considering, doing the logics.

“Mama, will you ever get married again?” She sounds a little panicked. Now her brother, who has been paying only partial attention to our conversation, worried as he is by the prospect of the nail clipper, looks at me quickly. “No!” he blurts.

I think of how I’ll be lucky merely to have a date again. I think of sex – fleetingly, but I do think of it. I think of how unappealing the “M” word sounds right now, and yet how I’ve told myself that if I do it again, I’ll get a  nice dress this time and feel good about myself. I wonder if I could ever meet anyone who I’d want to let get close to my kids. 

“I don’t know, honey. I really don’t. But if I meet anyone, you’d have to like him, too.”

“I hope you don’t,” Bea says. Thomas agrees. And we go on with our night.