The After Wife

by Summers, Melanie

  Colton nods, still laughing. “Yeah, ‘cause that makes sense!”

  When we both calm down, I sigh, then pat him on the arm in a motherly way. “I owe you an apology, Colton. That was both dishonest of me and condescending.”

  “That’s okay,” he says.

  “No, it’s not really. We treated you like a child, but you’re not one.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that.” He digs into the large front pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a rolled-up piece of paper. Handing it to me, he says, "Speaking of adulting, I'm actually starting my own yard maintenance service. Mowing, weeding, and landscaping all spring, summer, and fall, then clearing snow in the winter. Now that I've had a taste of freedom …”

  "You'd like to have the whole meal?" I ask.

  He gives me a blank look. "I just meant I'd like to get my own place." He rubs the back of his neck. "Meals too, I guess."

  I bite the inside of my cheek so I can maintain a serious expression. Then I look over his flyer, noticing a couple of typos but managing to resist the urge to go in search of a red pen. "These look like very reasonable rates. And it's quite a comprehensive service package."

  "Yeah," he says, pointing to the monthly service plans at the bottom. "I figured it would be easier for me and for my clients. This way, all you have to do is pick one, then your whole yard takes care of itself and you never have to think of it again. Well, other than paying the bill, of course."

  "You have got yourself a client."

  "Really?" His eyes light up.

  Nodding, I say, “Absolutely. When can you start?"

  "If you need me to start today, I could, but my plan was to spend the next couple of days biking around trying to drum up business."

  "You should do that, then."

  "Should we say Monday? Your grass is getting a little long, so I should definitely come back by then."

  "Monday, it is."

  After Colton leaves, I get back to pulling weeds while I think about him. He may be young, but in some ways, he's got a lot more wisdom than I do. He's got a plan and he's going for it, even though it means explaining to every person in this entire village what happened in California. He’s going to get all the humiliation over with at once and move on with his life, free and clear. What a relief that would be.

  For the rest of the day, I add up the many ways I sidestepped embarrassment, and what that has cost me. How many things did I keep from my husband for that reason? Dozens? Hundreds? I never told him I didn’t like going to the symphony because I needed him to believe I was every bit as sophisticated as he was. I never admitted to loving Pink or Lady Gaga or Gossip Girls. I never told him I hated scotch—the smell, the taste, and the endless conversations about it.

  I let him believe I was someone I’m not and never will be. I tucked away who I was and morphed into the perfect wife—the one I thought he wanted. The sad part is, I never even bothered to ask. I just assumed I knew who he wanted, then went on pretending. I wonder what our marriage would have been, had I told him everything that was in my heart.

  Stronger? More fun? Over?

  No wonder I never want to fall in love again. Losing your husband isn’t the worst part. It’s losing yourself first.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Life is a succession of lessons which must be lived to be understood.

  ~ Helen Keller

  August has arrived, which means it’s been a month since Liam and I had our ‘moment’ in the kitchen. Since then we’ve both managed to maintain a more appropriate sense of decorum. It’s almost like he came to the same conclusion as I did as soon as it was over. Thank God we didn’t act on it because that would have been a hot mess of a situation, especially given how tangled up our lives are for now.

  Our easy friendship has returned, aided by Olive, who we’re both more than happy to focus on. Things are so comfortable that I’ve accepted an invitation to go out with them for the day on their boat.

  They’ve made it their mission to see a new spot every Saturday this summer, and yesterday, they invited me to join them. We’ll head out to the sea and lunch on a tiny uninhabited island. It all sounds so exotic, and I find myself so excited I can’t sleep. Instead, I get up ridiculously early to make a picnic lunch and get myself ready to go.

  Good thing I’m up early because choosing the right outfit proves difficult. Today, I’m in the mood to be sophisticated Abby—well, as sophisticated as I get. I select a striped boat neck (obviously) with three-quarter-length sleeves, and some capris. I hold the pants in my hand for a moment before I risk trying them on. It’s been over a year since I could fit into them, and although I know I’ve lost some weight after months of cleaning and weeding and babysitting, I’m not confident that it will be enough.

  Have courage, I tell myself. Then I laugh because trying on pants isn’t exactly a triumph of the human spirit.

  When I pull them on, I’m delighted that they make it past my hips. They’re a bit too tight, but I fasten the button on the front of the waistband knowing they stretch out while I’m wearing them. I put on some makeup—nothing heavy, just a little mascara and a dab of CC cream with sunscreen in it.

  Smiling at the woman in the mirror, I say, “Not horrible, Abby.”

  I pop on my white Toms because they are the closest thing to boat shoes I own, then hurry out the door.

  It takes me exactly six minutes to get to the docks, then another two to find a spot along the road to park. The water gleams in the early morning sun, and I am welcomed by the call of a few seagulls. The ocean has that slightly gray look that will turn to a deep blue once the sun is angled a little higher in the sky.

  I load my arms with a bag containing lunch and another containing sunscreen, towels, and my swimsuit. As much as I don’t love the idea of wearing it in front of them, I brought it anyway, deciding it’s part of the new honest me, because cellulite, while not pretty, is real.

  I walk down the sidewalk to the pier marked ‘Slips 11–20’ and step onto it. It bobs a little. I steady myself as I continue along. Tied to number seventeen is an older, good-sized yacht that Olive has told me is called a motor sailor. When I asked her what that meant, she said, “Well, Abby, you can either sail it or use the motor.” I grin at the memory. She can be surprisingly condescending for a not-quite-eight-year-old.

  Liam told me that when the boat went up for sale, it was in such rough shape, he got it for a song. But now it sparkles and speaks of the glamour of the 1920s. The mahogany cabin has been polished to a shine, and it bears the name “Sarah’s and Olive’s” in flowery letters. It tugs at my heart, but I don’t have time to feel the full weight of it because Olive is standing on the deck, squealing.

  “She’s here, Dad! Abby’s here!” I’m sure she could wake the whole neighborhood with the news, but she’s so cute, I bet no one would even mind.

  I wave to her and watch as she climbs down the ladder, her arms and legs a blur. She hops onto the dock and runs to me with her arms out. A few seconds later, Olive crashes into my legs, and I’m on the receiving end of a fierce hug, with her head tucked in just under my chest as she clings to me with abandon.

  Was I ever this carefree when I expressed affection? I think I may have been, but somewhere along the way, I learned a self-restraint that somehow seems pointless to me as I take in the glorious feeling of her little arms around me.

  She pulls back and takes my hand. “Abby, these are the tomato plants I was telling you about. See? They’re nearly ready to eat!”

  She directs my attention to a tiny garden wedged into the space directly in front of the boat. Liam has made a yard for her out of faded green wooden planks and some dirt. In addition to the two tomato plants, there are four bright pink geraniums in full bloom and violet wave petunias spilling over the sides.

  “This is lovely!” I remark, letting her lead me to the planter.

  She points, her voice an excited whisper. “Look. It’s my secret fairy garden.”

  I crouch
next to her and peek under one of the geraniums. There is a tiny wooden house with blue shutters and an open yellow door. I turn to her and gasp. “Does a real fairy live here?”

  “Yes! Dad says she must have a sweet tooth because I found a candy wrapper in front of the house yesterday!”

  “Are you serious?” I do my best to look shocked, and Olive gives me a proud nod.

  “Well, this place is a little bit magic,” Olive says. “Have you ever seen a fairy?”

  “No, I’m afraid not.”

  “Me neither. They’re very tricky, but I will someday,” she says with a confident nod.

  A shadow falls on the planter, and I look up to see Liam standing above us on the deck of the boat. “Hello, Abby. Welcome!”

  I straighten up and give my eyes a moment to adjust to the sight of him. He looks very relaxed in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt instead of his usual work clothes. I can tell by his expression that he is thinking I look different as well, and I find myself hoping he thinks it’s a good change. But only because he’s a friend, and it’s perfectly okay to want to impress our friends.

  “Hi, Liam.”

  “Ready for an adventure?”

  “I am. I was honestly so excited that I’ve been up since five-thirty.”

  “This one here shares your enthusiasm, I’m afraid. She was up at the crack of dawn.”

  I pick up the bags, and Olive leads me to the ladder. After I hand everything up to Liam, I climb up, feeling a little awkward, then stand back and watch while Liam and Olive make the final preparations to set off. He’s a whir of activity, and Olive seems thrilled to have me see her as his most capable first mate. He calls out for her to check the something and the other thing, which she quickly does, then hollers to him once the job is done. It occurs to me no matter how young we are, we all long to feel needed.

  Liam is now behind the large wheel, while Olive plucks a captain’s hat off a hook and brings it to him. It has gold braiding circling it and an anchor on the front, above the blue brim. She tells me she bought it for her dad with her own money. I can see how proud she is, and when I glance up at him, he doesn’t have even a trace of embarrassment as he dons the white and blue cap.

  “Thank you, my love,” he says, as he ruffles her hair. “Go get your sunglass clips, okay?”

  Olive’s shoulders slump a little and Liam gives her a knowing smile. “You were hoping your old dad would forget, weren’t you?”

  “Nuts,” she says, snapping her fingers before disappearing into the cabin.

  I take a seat on the bench to the right of the wheel and stare out into the horizon. The sea is calm, and the sun is up enough that the gray is gone from the water.

  “Abby, over there.” Liam points to the other side of the boat.

  I stand in time to see a small pod of what look to be black dolphins making their way along the shore. I shield my eyes with one hand so I can watch them as they cut quickly through the water. The sight is such a delightful surprise that I find myself laughing. “What are they called?”

  “Pilot whales. They’re looking for breakfast,” Liam says. “Probably a nice school of mackerel right around here. Maybe some squid.”

  They all disappear under the surface, their tails flicking the air as they propel themselves down.

  “Looks like they found something.”

  I glance at Liam as he draws a deep breath and turns the shiny chrome wheel slightly to the left. He’s handsome in his cap and sunglasses, looking relaxed and content and somehow younger than when he’s working. I notice that he’s clean shaven and decide that must be the difference.

  He turns to me and smiles. “Glad you decided to join us.”

  “Me too.”

  “Olive is certainly taken with you. She talks about you nonstop. ‘Abby told me the funniest story today,’ or ‘Abby had two dogs when she was a girl,’ or ‘Abby likes blueberries the most out of any berry.’ I know more about you than I do myself.”

  I grin at him. “I really love spending time with her. She has such a special little soul.”

  “That she does.”

  “I hope you don’t mind me saying, but I think you’re doing a wonderful job with her.”

  Liam narrows his eyes in confusion. “Now, why would I mind you paying me a compliment?”

  “I don’t know. Because I don’t have kids.”

  “Anyone can tell the difference between a well-behaved child and bratty one.” He’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “To be honest, parenting is kind of like sailing. You bob along with the waves, hoping you’re aiming in the right direction. Except with children, there aren’t any checkpoints to follow, so you have to guess and hope you’re going the right way.”

  “Well, from an outsider’s perspective, it look like you’re right on course. She’s a lucky girl to have you for a dad.”

  He shrugs off my compliment. “I’m the lucky one. She’s an easy child to raise.”

  “She didn’t get that way by accident. You had a hand in that.” I can tell by his expression that he’s about to rebuff the praise again, so I hold up a finger and give him a stern look to stop him. “Ah! Just accept the compliment, Liam.”

  “Bossy.” He says, narrowing his eyes so he looks annoyed. “I don’t know why I’m surprised by that, though. I should have figured it out the first time I met you and you bit my head off for trying to sit beside you.”

  I laugh and feel heat creep up my neck. “Correction, the first time you saw me, I was sitting at the bar with a beer foam moustache.”

  “Oh, right. I forgot about that.” He lets out a loud laugh. “The best part was when you swiveled the stool so hard, you snapped back like a rubber band and planted your hand in your dessert.”

  We’re still laughing when the door slides open, and Olive appears, looking frustrated. “Dad, I can’t find my sunglass clips.”

  His expression changes from jovial to stern in an instant. “That’s because you left them by your fairy garden last night, so I hid them in the bread bin.”

  “Dad!”

  “Don’t you ‘Dad’ me, young lady. You need to learn to take better care of your things.” He softens his expression to let her off the hook. “Now, go get them, and I’ll let you be captain for a bit.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, we find a place along the rocky shore of a tiny island to anchor the boat. It’s small enough to see the width of it without turning my head. Liam stands knee-deep in the water, and we hand him what we’ll need—folding beach chairs, a blanket, the food, and some drinks. Olive slings on her backpack, telling me it’s her explorer’s bag. She has been on the lookout for mermaids since we left the pier, and she’s certain that even if we don’t see any actual merfolk today, we will most definitely find evidence of them.

  She’s all business as she tallies the contents of the bag for me. “I’ve got binoculars, a magnifying glass, specimen jars, and a notepad and pencils to record my findings.”

  “Impressive. I had no idea you were a serious scientist on the weekends.”

  She gives a slight nod at the acknowledgment. “Well, it’s true, Abby. I am a very serious scientist.”

  She climbs down the ladder while Liam and I exchange ‘my God, wasn’t that adorable’ grins. A moment later, it’s my turn. I take off my shoes, as my hosts have done, and toss them onto the beach. I then make my way down the ladder.

  Liam holds out his hand to help me navigate the small leap from the boat to the beach. His palm is rough and warm against mine, and I find myself wanting to continue holding it after I’ve landed safely on the shore. Instead, I let it go quickly and collect my Toms. Olive is scrambling up the bank, like a puppy who has just been released from a crate, and the sight of it warms me as much as the sun ever has.

  Liam and I set up a small picnic site, facing the shore from which we just came. It’s wonderfully strange to be in a place inhabited only by crabs and insects and shorebirds. It feels like a trip to prehistoric times be
fore humans arrived and changed everything to suit ourselves.

  When lunch is set out, Liam calls Olive to come back, then the three of us sit on the picnic blanket to eat. I’ve made a pizza sub for her, and turkey on rye for the adults. Small plastic bowls containing berries and cut-up apples bring a delightful array of color to the faded orange blanket that serves as our buffet table.

  Olive is too excited to sit still, having discovered a small tidepool that is in immediate need of a thorough scientific investigation.

  “Go on, you can take your sandwich with you,” Liam says, “But stay clear of the open water.”

  We sit in a comfortable silence, watching her for a few minutes. Suddenly, she turns. “Dad! I’ve made an exciting discovery!”

  He gets up and makes his way to the shore, and I see him examine whatever it is she’s put in her jar. He tucks a piece of hair behind her ear, and she grins up at him. The sight tugs at my heart and I feel unexpected tears behind my eyes.

  I want this.

  Through my blurry vision, Liam has become Isaac, and Olive has become our child. And for a moment, I feel a beautiful sense of contentment as he picks her up and swings her around. I imagine that they’ll come running back to me to show me what they found, then he’ll lie beside me, propped up on one elbow while we watch her go off again.

  But that won’t happen.

  I reach up and play with Isaac’s ring while a profound sense of loss sweeps over me. Why didn’t we do this? I remind myself it was because we never wanted children. Except that suddenly I’m not so sure. The decision was made so long ago, I can’t remember which one of us was more adamant about it. I know it was Isaac’s suggestion, but he was only voicing what I wanted, wasn’t he?

  I wipe my eyes, and they are Liam and Olive again. Liam is walking toward me with a perplexed look on his face. He sits on the low beach chair next to mine. “You all right?”