Is There Still Sex in the City?

It would be cooler. And less buggy. And not subject to the perils of rain.

Nope. The boy wasn’t having it. He began ordering his father to put up the tent. I offered to help but was shooed away by the boy.

I went back into the house, poured myself a glass of rosé with ice, and congratulated myself on my luck. Obviously the boy had plans and they didn’t include me.

Which meant my relationship with the boy would be simple: I’d be a sort of camp counselor/Airbnb landlady.

Day Two

I woke up the next morning to quiet. Max and t

he kid were sitting on the couch, silently going through the kid’s bag.

I made myself a cup of tea and joined them. Max had slept badly in the tent, and finally at 6:00 a.m. he and the boy had gotten up. They’d already walked to the deli and fed themselves, as evidenced by the greasy paper bags and food wrappings on the table.

“Here,” Max said, handing me an envelope.

“What’s this?” I said.

“It’s a note. From Glotis.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Glotis. His mother,” Max hissed.

Oh. Right. Glotis.

“Dear Candace,” she wrote. “Thank you for looking after my son. I know this will be a once-in-a-lifetime experience for him.”

Awwww. That is so sweet. See, Tilda Tia, I wanted to point out. The mother is trusting me with her son. I don’t know why she is, but maybe she has a motherly instinct that being around me will somehow be good for him.

The father and I went through his clothes. “Why does he only have two pairs of shorts?” I asked. Max shrugged.

“I guess Glotis doesn’t have much money to buy him clothes.”

I may not know much about children, but clothes I did know. And in this case, I knew exactly what to do.

Max would take the boy shopping and I’d go along to help.

Mommy and Me

Luckily, there were loads of kids’ shops on Main Street. There were, I also noticed for the first time, loads of kids. And parents. Families. Falling into step, I wondered what it would be like if this really were my life, if Max and I were married and had a child. It was a bit far-fetched but not impossible I thought as we followed a pair of attractive, early-fortysomething parents and their adorable children into the surf shop. If this really were my life, would I be happier and more content?

Assuming that clothes shopping is “women’s work,” Max immediately sat down on a couch, leaned back against the cushions, and started texting.

I wasn’t bothered. Max’s input would only make the situation more confusing and besides, I knew way more about fashion than he did.

“Hey, kid. Look at this,” I said, pulling out a yellow T-shirt as I tried to lure the boy toward a circular rack of colorful clothing.

He just stood there, staring at me. Looking lost.

“Okay,” I said brightly. “How about . . . sneakers?”

Again, that look. As if he had no idea what I was talking about or why I was with him. A look that said: “You are not my mommy.”

Too true. I’m not even Mommy adjacent. I had no authority over the boy and we both knew it.

Luckily, the saleslady came to the rescue. “What a cute little boy,” she exclaimed. “What are his sizes?”