Ыоуве Been Warned   ::   Patterson James

I really feel that Dakota and Sean need this. Especially Dakota. And so do I.

First things first, we have a total pig-out breakfast at Sarabeth’s, our favorite restaurant in all of New York. Blueberry and chocolate-chip pancakes, with loads of syrup, for everybody. Then we head off to Central Park with only one purpose in mind: to get absolutely filthy dirty, to be real kids for a change, to have a blast.

For three hours, we run and jump and scream our brains out, play tag, play catch, play keep-away, and I don’t have a single crazy thought, don’t smell anything bad, don’t even see any dead people.

We end up at a little concrete playground with swings and slides, and Dakota and Sean are grimy dirty – which I love, and they love too. In fact, I’ve never seen such big smiles on either of their faces.

Of course, I have to take photographs of the kids. Dozens and dozens of beautiful shots. So cute, so picture-perfect.

And then – disaster strikes!

Sean catches his bright red Keds sneaker on the ladder at the top of the slide, and he literally goes head over heels. I watch and I can’t believe what I’m seeing as he tumbles way too fast, then hits the pavement with his face. I swear to God, with his forehead.

Ten minutes later, we’re at the emergency room at Lenox Hill, and amazingly, miraculously, Sean is totally okay and doesn’t even need a stitch. He even gets a lollipop, and so does Dakota.

It’s quiet in the cab from Lenox Hill going home, and then Dakota leans into me and puts her head on my shoulder. I wish I could take a picture of the two of us.

“It’s all right, Miss Kristin. It’s all right,” she says. “We won’t tell.”

“Promise,” says Sean. “We won’t tell. We love you, Miss Kristin.”

And I love these kids so much.

I just love Dakota and Sean to death. Who wouldn’t?

I also feel guilty, and I don’t know how to get away from that. Not about playing hooky for one stupid day, which was great – but about everything else.

And I mean everything else.



Chapter 75



HELL, I SHOULD JUST TOSS my alarm clock out the window. What’s that joke Sean likes to tell? About seeing time fly?

Really, what’s the point of an alarm clock when I’ve got this dreaded dream to wake me every morning? I get the feeling it’s going to be with me for an awfully long time. Like forever.

Same for all the other bizarre stuff filling my days.