It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

The Winds May Blow, But Who's to Know Exactly What It's Bringing (2)

Matthew opened it to find an email from a daycare he applied for some months ago with a job offer, albeit less than what was advertised.

True to her word, Audrey had been calling every place she could remember speaking to about Matt; he even sat in on one out of spite. She discredited herself and honestly, admitted to being jilted by him, throwing any potential career path back by years. She kept her word, and the floodgates were opening. Every other day was a new email apologizing for "the tardiness of their response" or offering something completely different than what Matthew applied for. Usually for less.

He was afraid. Terribly, terribly afraid. Matthew was terrified of the opportunities that could come his way, the things that could strike order into his life, putting the years of applying for jobs in the rearview mirror. Leaving Yang behind with the mess of the house. Leaving the kids behind to fend for themselves with a new nanny.

Matthew ran a hand down his stomach, grimacing at the shirt. "I'll just...order more? I guess?" He glanced down at the map of the museum. He drifted towards a model of a Mesoamerican city. The motion was interrupted when Matthew's phone buzzed in his pocket.

how're you doing today?

A part of him wanted to not answer Edward back, but the question was innocuous enough, and Matthew felt guilty for ignoring the last few texts.

Out of some obligation, something had compelled him to tell Edward what had happened, like throwing a lifeline into an empty sea. Matthew called him and told him. The subsequent hours after were such a blur that he barely remembered them – even now, his memories of the days after were foggy. Toby and Liza moved into the house. Edward was a growing presence. Matthew was never left alone, always at least one person was with him. Suddenly everyone was in a bubble with him, except Yang.

They actively avoided speaking about what happened. Matthew wouldn't give them the chance, anyway.

Not even the children knew.

Things could be better, I won't lie. He regretted sending it.

Edward's response came a moment later. do you want me to come?

The question sparked something in him that he knew was silly to get frustrated over. 'No. Gods, no. I can't keep inconveniencing everyone like this.' Matthew did not reply. Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he watched the children from a distance to not impose on their self-guided learning.

Eli plopped himself in front of a chimalli, sketching and erasing the circle over and over. Danny stood over him, tracing the outline of a ceremonial spearhead. In the distance, Lilly and Emily were pointing back and forth between what remained of a child's wheeled toy and some farming tools, discussing which one would be better to draw.

Matthew continued pacing, tuning out the world as he glanced into the next exhibit.

Emily fumbled with opening her notebook to a pair of 18th Century shoes. Crudely drawn as a whole, but the proportions were correct in many regards. Her chair at the museum's cafe wobbled. "This's from the colonial one," she said, pointing to the drawing. "I picked it because I liked the buckle."

Matthew cocked a brow, trying not to smirk. This was the kind of distraction he needed. "Tell me about its history."

Her expression faltered. She turned the notebook towards her and said, "It's from the 1780's, found in Massachusetts." Emily looked up. "I don't remember anything else from it."

He nodded his head. "I appreciate the honesty, Emily."

Emily, uncertain, smirked before closing her book.

Lilliana was already turning her notebook around, revealing a too-detailed drawing of a 1840's southern belle gown. "I picked it because it's really pretty and the details on it are super pretty and I want it. Also, I think it would make a good 'SWOOSH' dress, like the ones in the movies when the princess is running down a castle hallway and her dress is all flowy –

"Unless I'm learning how to sew – " Which Matthew did need to learn, even for small fixes. " – absolutely not.

"It's too floofy," Danny noted.

"You shush, it's beautiful," snapped Emily, offering a consoling pat on Lilly's shoulder.

"Booo," Lilly moaned. She pointed to the drawing. "It's from the early 19th Century, and was found in a slave plantation's attic. It's on loan from a museum with a long name in Connecticut." She glanced between Matthew, Audrey, and Toby. "How could people dress so nicely if they were enslaving people at the same time?"

Toby's eyes widened. He opened his mouth but snapped it shut a moment later. "That's a loaded question."

"I can answer it!" Eli said, shuffling onto his knees. "So European colonists abducted people from Africa and shipped them to here so they could work for free, and – "

"Mostly right, kind of wrong," Matthew sighed, "but A for effort."

"What's wrong about it?" he asked.

"Eli, what's your drawing you want to show?"

For a moment, the eleven-year-old's grunted, but the look that crossed his face suggested he forgot about it. Throwing open his notebook, he showed off a two-page spread of a musket, notes scattered all over the page. "I picked this gun."

"That tracks," Matt whispered.

Danny snickered.

"It's from 1576, and it was brought over by a colonist. At one point, it was hanging in the town's bar before being donated to a museum, before being donated to here."

"And I picked this," Danny interjected, opening the pages to a taxidermied iguana. "I liked the look in its eye. Like it's gonna pounce you if it was alive."

"Why didn't you do the rattlesnake?" Eli asked.

"Rattlesnakes're weird and I don't like them," his friend answered. "They don't have arms."

"Can I see?" asked Emily, reaching over Elliot.

"I like the shading," Lilly said, peeking over her friend's shoulder. "What else did you draw?"

Danny stood, and the children seemed to disappear into their own conversation as they shared their notebooks.

A minute later, Audrey appeared with the first of two trays of food. "Someone sort this," she said. "I need to go back for the next one."

Toby and Matt did as they were told, sorting the hamburgers with no lettuce and onions from the chicken tenders and the way too large single slice of pepperoni pizza. They did not sort the fries – enough were purchased that they were piled into a mound on the tray and were left to the wolves.

As the sun dappled through the windows overhead, casting glares into Toby and Audrey's eyes, Matthew couldn't help but feel a relieving warmth. He was glad to be out of that goddamned house. He could only imagine what monsters they were finding within the walls, like the house had a vendetta against everyone in it.

His phone started buzzing. His mother. Matt hung up and shoved a fistful of fries into his mouth.