Agency

In Which a Grisly Discovery is Made

later that same day

Her wrists strung with grocery bags and her girls' school bags slung awkwardly over her shoulder, Berenice struggled to fish the front door key out of her purse. Behind her, the girls (carrying nothing) were bickering over a Hatchimal that had been snuck into school against the school's unambiguous no-toy policy.

***

When Berenice had arrived to pick the girls up, the teacher pulled her aside.

"You're aware, of course," the young teacher frowned prettily at Berenice, "That the children are not allowed to bring toys from home on regular school days. They find it very distracting. So we ask that home toys stay at home."

"Yes, I understand the policy," snapped Berenice, glaring over the teacher's shoulder at her eldest. "I didn't encourage her to bring the toy."

"But in future, could you check to make sure she doesn't have any? This isn't the first time," the teacher pressed.

Berenice switched focus back to the young woman before her. She felt her face heat up.

"Are you suggesting I should frisk her every morning before we leave the house? Don't be ridiculous."

The teacher looked embarrassed but held her ground. "Of course not, frisk. Of course not. But, maybe remind them of the policy and enforce it consistently. Noemi told me that her father said it was okay for her to bring it, in fact."

"I think you've been told a fib. Her father wouldn't have said any such thing." Berenice stopped herself from drawing on her personal grievances about her husband's lack of engagement in parenting matters.

"Well," the teacher continued, "I've told Noemi that next time, she'll lose a point on our class reward chart."

Berenice stifled a laugh. She knew her daughter, and she knew that her daughter wouldn't give a punishment like that a second thought. Good luck to you, lady, she thought to herself. Hoping to disengage herself from the conversation then, she offered, "Well, that certainly sounds like a fair punishment. I'll leave that with you then, Miss."

***

The bickering behind her escalated into shoves as she continued to struggle with the groceries and the door. Lucille started to cry, immediately achieving that particular pitch that is genetically designed to pierce the parental brain.

As the key finally turned and Berenice shouldered the door open, she shouted angrily, "FOR GOD SAKE STOP IT BEFORE I KILL THE BOTH OF YOU!"

"Hello, Berenice," said a voice from inside the unlit living room.

Berenice dropped her bags in surprise and pushed the girls behind her. She wasn't expecting anyone to be home. Her mind jumped to prowlers lying in wait, a serial killer waiting to add her family to his list of horrors, driven to violence by the lunar cycle and a terrible childhood. But then it was only 4 pm. The sun was still out. There was no evidence of a break-in.

"Who is that?" she called into the dim hallway ahead of her.

"It's your father in law," came the reply. "Here to stop you from killing the two most adorable girls I know." The bear-like figure of James Ross lumbered into the hallway. He bent down awkwardly over his sizeable middle with his arms outstretched. "Come say hello to your Granda, you skinny little things."

The girls dropped the Hatchimal and ran, delighted, into Jim's open embrace.

***

In the kitchen, Berenice was busy making tea (in a pot) the way Jim required it to be made. He sat, supervising her movements, awkwardly perched on a breakfast bar stool.