“A mistake?” I laugh and cry at the same time. “A mistake is he chose the wrong shirt to put on, or he picked up Coke instead of Diet Coke.” She glares at me. “Marrying another woman wasn’t a mistake. Living with her for eighteen months wasn’t a mistake. Painting her house and fixing up her house wasn’t a mistake. It was a choice. A choice he made because he was selfish.”
“How do you know he did all that?” she asks, and I just shrug.
“I’m assuming since he didn’t do them here, he must be doing it somewhere.”
“Well, that’s the problem; you’re assuming instead of knowing.”
I shake my head. “Well, he slept with her, he had sex with her, and he promised to love her forever. Am I to assume he didn’t mean that?”
“Maybe if you had stopped harassing him when he was home and had been more understanding, it wouldn’t have led to that.” And I’m gutted; I’m so fucking gutted I don’t even think I can breathe. Her hand flies up. “Maybe if you had been there for him and caring to his needs, he wouldn’t have gone elsewhere.”
I step back. My chest is heaving, rising up and down as if I ran a marathon. It’s almost broken; my heart is broken as I look at this woman standing in front of me who pretended to love me. “So Eric doing what he did was all my fault?” I ask her, and she doesn’t answer. “No!” I yell now. “It wasn’t my fucking fault that I was a single parent for the past eighteen months while he was off gallivanting and making himself another family. Without you guys, might I add.” I rub the tears off my face angrily. “It’s not my fault that he felt the need to lead two fucking lives. That’s on him.” I shake my head. “Now I’m here by myself raising two girls, trying to make it look like we can live without him. I’m trying to give them the normal that they need, that they deserve. That I finally deserve.”
“You were nothing before Eric.” And it’s at that moment I know she never loved me; she never cared for me. She never felt I was a part of her family.
I smile at her as I cry and break inside. “Wow, boy, was I stupid. Here I thought when you said I was just part of the family that you actually meant it, that you meant you loved me no matter what. That it didn’t matter what happened before because now I had you guys. You were right about one thing; I was nothing before him, but I’m something now. I’m a mother now. They are my life; they are my family. They are mine.”
“We’ll see about that,” she says, and she storms out of the house, slamming the door behind her.
I look at the paint, and nothing comes in me, not one piece of happiness is in me while I look at the paint. I take my phone out and send Blake a text.
I might be rethinking painting the room yellow.
I don’t know why I sent him a text. I don’t even know why I’m sad he doesn’t get right back to me, but I look back at the wall and see the yellow. It’s a change, and it’s my house. I look at the mess of the kitchen, turn around, and take a deep breath. Dipping the brush into the paint again, I continue to paint. The more I paint, the more I feel a little happier. Until the phone rings and when I walk over with a smile, it immediately disappears when I see that it’s Elliot.
“Hello?” I say.
“What the fuck did you do to Mom?” he asks right away, anger in his voice.
“I didn’t do anything to your mother,” I tell him.
“She just called me, and she is hysterical,” he hisses.
“She came to see me and saw that I’m painting the kitchen. According to her, it’s my fault that Eric cheated and married someone in secret,” I say, putting the brush back into the paint.
“I doubt she said that,” he says.
“Of course, you do, because according to your mother, I was nothing before Eric, so I mean, I can’t expect anyone to believe me or actually be on my side.”
“Sam,” he says quietly now. “She’s going through a lot.”
“Really, you don’t say?” I laugh. “I mean, it’s not like I lost my husband, and then my girls lost their father, and I lost the only family that I’ve ever known. I’m sure she is going through a shit ton.”
“I just think you should relax when you talk to her.”
“How’s this? I won’t talk to any of you since every single time I try to tell you guys how I feel, you just feel the need to let me know how perfect Eric was,” I say, finally sounding defeated as I just hang up on him.
I sit in the middle of the kitchen now, my legs crossed, looking around and seeing my little piece of happiness. I sit here, thinking about how the last time we painted the kitchen, he bitched the whole time—his shoulder hurt, he hated the color, he was tired. And I walked around on eggshells, trying not to piss him off. I had to take the kids to the park just so he could have peace and quiet.
My phone rings again, and this time, it’s Blake.
“Hey,” I say, smiling.
“Sorry I didn’t text you back. I had to save a cat.”
I throw my head back and laugh. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the fucking cat went into this tree and wouldn’t fucking come down, and then when I finally got to the fucker, he hissed at me and bit me.” I can’t stop laughing while I picture him in a tree chasing a cat. “Luckily, I had my gloves on, but yeah, so why isn’t yellow a good idea anymore?”
“My mother-in-law came in when I had just started painting.”
“Oh, fuck,” he says. It’s funny how he’s never really met me, and he doesn’t know any of us, but he knows it’s bad.
“Yeah, well, it went downhill,” I say softly. “I think what hurt the most was when she said I was nothing without Eric.”
Blake hisses, but I continue, “I grew up a child of the state, so I’m used to all the names. But I figure in twelve years, I loved your son and had his children, which are your grandchildren. I think I’m someone.”
“You’re more that someone,” he tells me. “To those girls, you are the world. You’re showing them that you live even when it’s hard. You’re showing Lizzie that you can be sad and then dust yourself off and survive.”
“You think so?” I ask him. “Do you know I don’t even know what Eric’s least favorite color was.”
“Green,” he says right away. “He fucking hated green.”
“Fuck,” I say and laugh. “I wanted to paint my bedroom his least favorite color, but green …?”
He laughs now. “Yeah, I don’t know about that.”
I look at the clock. “Shit, I gotta get the girls,” I tell him. “I’ll call you later.” I disconnect and run to the bus stop, getting there at the same time as the bus pulls up. The girls and I walk back to the house, and I know right away I made the right choice because my girls love the new kitchen.
So all the doubts are gone when I get to see the smile on Lizzie’s face as she does a circle in the room and her eyes light up. Totally worth it, I decide as I smile to myself and not once do I think about Eric.
We end up making grilled cheese for dinner while I finish painting, and when it’s finally done and everything is put back into place, I take a picture and send it to Blake with the title, My Sunshine.
I put my phone away and smile as I fold my arms across my chest and take in what I just did, and by myself, no less. I smile the whole time I walk upstairs and take a shower and then smile even bigger when I see that Blake has sent me fifteen Pinterest ideas for a green room.
I call him as I get into bed. “I think you should go with mint,” he says softly when he answers.
I laugh. “Well, if I have to pick between the moss green and the mint, I would pick the mint.”
We talk about our days, and I tell him how happy the girls were when they came home. “See, you hang the moon to those two.”
“If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?” I ask him when we both yawn.
“That we found Frankie’s cancer earlier,” he says without skipping a beat. “What about you?”
“That I found out about Eric before
he died,” I say softly, and we are saved by the bell when he leaves for a call and disconnects.
Blake
Blake
“I can’t believe we sold everything,” Hailey says to me as she puts her bag in the front seat of her car, and I follow with her two suitcases, putting them into the trunk. In the past week, she has donated Eric’s clothes to the homeless shelter, sold her house, and had that yard sale where she sold everything except Eric’s tools. She gave those to me under protest—I didn’t want them—but then I thought about who I would give them to, and I knew that it would be only right to give them to Samantha. If she didn’t want them, she could give them to the girls.
Samantha, who like Hailey, is trying to purge Eric from her system, has single-handedly repainted her whole house. After her kitchen, she painted her living room. That conversation still makes me laugh.
“I’m moving on to the living room, and I think I’m going to take the picture of us down,” she said late one night, later than usual since I was out on a call.
“Did you talk to the girls about it?” I asked her as I lay in bed thinking about her in her own.
“Not yet,” she answered with a yawn. “I’m going to take it down to paint, and we can talk then.”
“What color did you choose?”
“Well, according to Google …” She laughed as I closed my eyes and silently laughed. “Muted blue is the coziest color.”
“So yellow kitchen, blue living room. Mint green bedroom.”
“It sounds like a Skittles commercial,” she said laughing, something that she did more and more. I smiled at her, and then she hit me with another one of her questions.
“If you could change one thing in your life, what would it be?” She’s asked that same question every night before we hang up.
“That I didn’t marry Frankie when I wanted to,” I said without missing a beat. “What about you?”
“Not following my gut,” she said softly. “Good night, Blake,” she said and hung up.
I looked at the ceiling as I thought about how she was doing with no family and no support; she literally had no one. Not one person except her girls. The burning in my stomach set in; if I ever got five minutes alone with his brothers, I would pound the shit out of them. Good thing my father was a lawyer.
The next day, she painted the whole living room a soft blue, and it looked fucking awesome.
Shutting the trunk, I snap out of my memory. Hailey comes to hug me around my waist. “What am I going to do without you?” she asks me as tears start to form in her eyes.
I smile down at her. “You know I can be there in eight, maybe seven hours. Just call and I’ll be there.” She nods her head and then is taken aback when Crystal arrives and informs her of what we all knew. There was no way she would let Hailey go without her.
Hailey turns to us, letting us know she is going to do one last walk-through of the house and wants to do it alone. We both look at each other as she walks up the stairs, and I turn to lean back on the car.
“You guys going to be okay?” I ask Crystal as she leans next to me.
“I think so, but it all depends on her.” Crystal shrugs her shoulders. “She decides she wants to come back, we come back.”
“What about your job?” I look over. Crystal shrugs her shoulders again. “Will you tell her about Samantha?” I hold my breath.
“Yes”—she puts her head back—“when she’s ready.” We look up then as she comes out of the house with tears streaking her face. Crystal rubs her arms while she goes to the driver’s side door, leaving me and Hailey alone.
“Here is the key.” She hands me the key to the house. “The real estate agent will stop by the firehouse at three p.m. to pick it up.” I grab her around the neck and pull her to my chest where she sobs.
I hold her and comfort her till she steps away. “How did you do it?” she asks me, and I know she’s talking about Frankie.
“Don’t do what I did. Don’t shut yourself off from the world. Live,” I tell her honestly, only now regretting some things I’ve done. “Promise me you’ll live.” She smiles as she places her hands over my hands on her cheeks. “You have to listen to me. I’m older,” I tell her, and she laughs.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says to me as my hands leave her face, and she nods. “Promise me the same.” I nod this time, putting my hands in my back pockets as her blue eyes stay shaded and protected.
“Get out of here,” I say to her as I walk back to my truck. “See you next month for sure.” She nods at me, climbing in the passenger side. I watch the car drive away before turning and making my way to the station. Walking in, I check in with the captain, who is getting up to get his coffee.
I pull out my phone and send Samantha a text, not sure what time she gets up.
Today is going to suck.
I don’t expect her to text me back, and she doesn’t. Instead, she calls me, the sleep apparent in her voice. “It’s too early to know that.”
I laugh, grabbing a cup of coffee for myself. “I just feel it.”
“Does that mean I should paint the bathroom before going green in my room?” I shake my head at her, smiling. “You know what color came up when I Googled?” she asks me, giggling, and I turn the sound up then as that was the best thing I’ve ever heard.
“No idea,” I say, thinking maybe red.
“Seafoam green.” She laughs out loud, like belly laughs, and I have to laugh with her. “Fucking seafoam green.”
“There it is, painting the bathroom green,” I say. “He would hate it.”
“See and you said today wasn’t going to be a good day. Lies,” she says, and I hear a little voice, “Mommy, I’m up.”
“Come here, baby girl.” It’s the first time I’ve heard her talk to her kids, or that I’ve heard the voice of them.
“My alarm just rang,” she says, and I hear kissing and then giggling. “A blue-eyed monster just put her cold feet on me.” She laughs, and then I hear her again. “I’m not a monster; I’m Daisy.”
“You’re right; it’s going to be a good day,” I tell her as she disconnects and goes to do her mom thing. She sends me a picture ten minutes later. It’s the first time she’s sent me a picture of herself, but it’s really not of her, it’s of a coffee cup in front of her lips, hiding what looks like a smile, her eyes cut off. I laugh when I see what the cup says,
‘It’s a great day for a great day.’
I text her back right away.
You might be right. Happy painting.
The rest of the day goes by so fast, we have four calls, one car accident, and then another fucking cat call. I don’t even see my phone till it’s way after eight, and I see that I have a couple of messages. I open the first one from Crystal.
I need you to go to Nanny’s house and kill her. This fucking house is nothing like the picture, nothing.
I laugh and then click the picture she sent me of inside, and I gasp. I message her right away.
Come Back Home.
I check my second one from my father.
Can you come over this weekend and help me in the shed please?
I answer that one also with two words.
Roger That!
Then I see Samantha has sent me five messages, and I laugh when I scroll through them.
There is no nice seafoam green.
I even tried to combine two greens. Looks like snot.
I can see why he hated green.
I’m buying it anyway.
Then she sends a picture of her hand on a paintbrush while she paints the wall.
I guess it isn’t that bad, if you’re Shrek.
I laugh and then call her.
“Hey,” I say when she answers, and I hear yelling in the background. “Where are you?”
“I’m at the park. Elliot called and wanted to see the girls. So I brought them to the park.”
“Are you with them?” I ask her.
“Nope, I’m sitting by myself while they
run around the playground.”
I picture her sitting on the grass all by herself with the sun shining as her blond hair moves. “How is the painting going?”
She laughs now. “According to Daisy, we should only do one wall, and I agree with her wholeheartedly. What about you? Was your day better?”
“Yeah, Hailey moved today,” I tell her, and she says nothing. “Is it weird talking about her?”
I don’t see her smile, but I hear it in her voice. “You mean weirder than talking to my dead husband’s fake wife’s brother!”
I laugh. “Say that fast ten times.”
“The kids are yelling for me. I’ll call you later,” she says as she disconnects. I look at the phone, and I’m not sure what to think. I’m not sure what is going on, and I don’t have time to think about it because another call comes in.
This time, it takes two firehouses to put out an apartment building up in flames. By the time we get back to the house and shower, it’s too late to call her, and I see she tried to call me twice.
She sends a message.
Going to bed. Hope you’re okay.
I close the phone and head to my cot where I dream of every single color of green. When I get up in the morning, I’m so fucking happy it’s the last day of my shift. I get up and look at my phone and see that she hasn’t called me. So I call her and it goes straight to voicemail. I don’t bother leaving a message, and by the time I get home, she still hasn’t called. I’m going to be honest—she’s got me worried. I wait till it’s after nine and try again.
I call her back, and this time, she answers. Gone is my bubbly girl, and in her place is the devastated person she was before.
Samantha
Samantha
“I really hope they sleep well after that,” I tell Elliot as we walk home from the park. We, or better yet, he just spent two hours running around the park with them.
“It’s good to see them,” he says as Daisy and Lizzie walk in front of us. “Daisy’s getting so big.”
“No one is stopping you from seeing them,” I tell him. “I would never do that to them. Family is very important to me.”
Love Series (Complete Series) Page 47