Seven Year Switch (2010) by Claire Cook

house, I felt better. I carefully inhaled and exhaled a few cleansing breaths. “You’re almost there,” I whispered to myself.
    â€œNice music,” Seth said as I walked back into the kitchen. He retrieved his shopping bag and pulled out a bottle of red wine. “In lieu of Luau Punch?”
    I weighed the chance to say something mean against the fact that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a glass of wine.
    â€œOkay,” I said.
    â€œAm I allowed to look for glasses and a corkscrew?” he said.
    Anastasia watched our every move, as if she were at the zoo and we were the exotic animals she’d come to see.
    â€œWhat ever,” I said.
    â€œGreat,” he said. “But first…” He pulled out a wooden box and put it on the table in front of Anastasia.
    Her eyes lit up. She ran her hand across the top of the dark, intricately carved box reverently. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s just what I’ve always wanted.”
    Seth burst out laughing. “Don’t worry. There’s stuff inside.”
    Anastasia opened the box. It was filled with small cloth dolls. They were all about the same size, maybe six inches tall or so. Each one was female and completely unique. Their skin tones ranged from cappuccino to espresso, and a bold array of bright geometric print fabrics was wrapped around their bodies and knotted on top of their heads.
    Anastasia slid her plate back. She took them out of the box carefully, laying them side by side across the table.
    â€œYou’re probably too old for dolls now…,” Seth said.
    â€œNot this kind,” she said.
    â€œThey’re handmade Senegalese pocket dolls,” Seth said. “One of the things I did in West Africa was to help build partnerships between local artisans and fair trade organizations in the United States and Canada.”
    â€œI love them,” Anastasia said.
    I turned away to check on the rice. I grabbed the chicken off the counter.
    Seth looked up at me. “And this is for you, Jill….”
    I ignored him and walked out to the grill. I stood there while the skewers of chicken cooked, taking big deep gasps of air, not even caring that I was probably inhaling smoke and Huli Huli Chicken grease.
    I’d just finished turning the chicken, when the kitchen door opened and Seth came out. He was holding two glasses of red wine.
    He reached one out to me.
    â€œJust leave it on the table in the kitchen,” I said. “I’ll get it when I have time.”
    Seth took a sip from one of the glasses.
    I moved the chicken skewers around some more on the grill, just for something to do.
    â€œLook,” Seth said. “I know this can’t be easy for you.”
    I spun around fast enough to make myself dizzy. “ Look ,” I said. “You don’t know anything about me, so don’t kid yourself. You don’t know who I am, how I’ve changed, what I’ve been through. You don’t have any idea what I’m feeling or not feeling.”
    I reached for my wineglass. Seth let it go without a word.
    I took a big sip. “And listen ,” I said. “I love my daughter enough to know she needs you in her life, but it has nothing to do with the two of us. So get over yourself, okay?”
    He just looked at me. I took another sip, trying to taste the wine, but even my taste buds were numb, and it might as well have been punch. I turned my full attention to the Huli Huli Chicken.
    When the door creaked open, we both turned around. A Senegalese pocket doll appeared, followed by most of Anastasia’s arm.
    The doll danced back and forth like a puppet.
    â€œAloha,” it said in Anastasia’s voice.

15
    DREW’S FAMOUS HAWAIIAN LUAU PARTY MUSIC WAS cranked all the way up on the cheap plastic CD player in the community center kitchen. My Lunch Around the World class had spontaneously formed a conga line and was dancing around