by Marci Bolden
“It’s final,” she whispered. “We’re divorced.”
His face sank more and more with every word she said. When she finished, his mouth was hanging open, like she’d dealt him some reality he hadn’t been prepared to handle.
Dianna stifled down the emotions that were trying to erupt from her. She didn’t think she had any more in her. Her chest ached, her throat burned, and her head throbbed from the sobbing that had racked her body throughout the day. But here it was again, threatening to overwhelm her. She swallowed again, one more attempt to steady her voice before speaking. “I’m sorry, babe.”
“Don’t be. Dad’s a dick.” His voice was hard. “He always has been.”
“Sam.”
“No, Mom. Screw him. And his cunt fiancée.” He walked around the sofa and plopped down next to her. “You didn’t tell me not to say the C-word.”
She sighed. “No. I’ll let you call her that today. It’s fitting today.”
Sam stared at the pile of tissues on the coffee table. “When did you find out?”
“This morning.”
He was quiet. He always grew quiet when he was processing information. “Have you been sitting here like this all day?”
“I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.”
She bit her lip when she saw tears sitting on his lower eyelids, threatening to run down his cheeks.
“Don’t lie to me, Mom. I can handle it.”
She ran her hand over the back of his head. “I know you can. But you shouldn’t have to.”
He looked down and wiped at his face, and Dianna’s heart broke all over again. A sob escaped her, which triggered one from Sam. Nothing was worse than seeing her boys cry, and as much as Sam tried to laugh life off, he was sensitive. This was hurting him, which made it even worse for her.
He took a breath. “Do you need something? Coffee? Something to eat?”
Fresh tears fell from her eyes as she considered how proud she was of him. He’d picked up more hours at work so he didn’t have to ask her for money, he’d started taking out the trash, and over summer, he’d mown the lawn without her pestering him about it. He’d stepped up and helped her in more ways than she could have ever foreseen.
And now, as his world was coming apart, he was asking if she needed something. It broke her heart and filled her with pride at the same time. He looked away when she sobbed again.
“I’m sorry, Sammy. I thought I would be stronger than this.”
“You are strong, Mom.” His deep voice cracked. “You always have been.” He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and looked away from her. “I suck at this stuff. I’m gonna call Kara.”
“No. Honey, I love Kara, but I don’t need her hovering right now. I just don’t.” She ruffled his hair and took a breath. “I’m all right. I’m having a bad day, but I’m okay. We’re going to be okay. You and me and Jason. We’re okay.”
“Have you told Jas yet?”
She shook her head. “No. I wanted him to get through all his classes first.”
“It’s almost five. He’s been done with classes for a while. I’m going to call him.”
Dianna tried not to let her surprise show. Almost five? She really had been sitting there all day. A sense of defeat started edging in on her depression. “Are you sure? I don’t know how he’ll take it.”
“He’ll be okay. Dad probably already called him anyway. He always tells Jason everything. Can I use your phone? My battery died.”
She handed him her phone and watched him leave. Leaning back on the couch, she exhaled slowly. She had told herself that she wasn’t going to cry, she wasn’t going to fall apart, and more than anything, she wasn’t going to admit how broken she was. She’d done all of the above.
“Damn it,” she breathed as another round of tears found her. She curled up on her side as exhaustion surrounded her. She’d gotten through the worst of it now that she’d told Sam, and if she were honest, she was glad he was telling Jason. She felt guilty letting him do it, but she was relieved, too. It was one less time she’d have to say the words.
Paul brushed Dianna’s hair back from her face. “Di,” he said softly when she barely stirred.
She drew a deep breath before her eyes fluttered open. Her face was pale except for the dark circles under her red and swollen eyes. His heart broke for her. He’d give anything to take the pain from her eyes and see her smiling like she had the day before at Annie’s house.
He pushed more of her hair back and forced a supportive smile to his face. “Hey, sweetie.”
“Paul?” Her voice was slurred and cracked.
“Hi.”
Her lip trembled, and she took a gasping breath. “I’m divorced,” she whispered, and tears instantly filled and then fell from her eyes.
“I know. Sam called me.”
She closed her eyes. “I told him I’m fine.”
“Well, I can see why he disagrees with you. You most definitely are not fine.”
Her shoulders shuddered, and a muted sob rolled from her. “He took it so hard.”
Paul frowned as he wiped a tear from her eye, just so another could fall. In that moment, he wanted to hunt Mitch Friedman down and beat the crap out of him.
Stretching onto the couch with Dianna, Paul tucked her body against his. Once he was situated—one arm curled under his head because there wasn’t any other place to put it and the other around her back—he kissed her head. “Sam is going to be okay.”
She buried her face in his chest. “I couldn’t even comfort him.”
“He didn’t want you to comfort him. He wanted to take care of you. He just didn’t know how.”
“Where is he?”
“I sent him out for some dinner.”
“Oh, God.” Her body rocked with another cry. “I didn’t even feed my son.”
Paul tightened his hold on her. “Stop. He’s fine. He’s doing okay. I may be in trouble, though,” he said, trying to lighten her mood. “I gave him cash and told him to get whatever he wanted and to bring something back for us.”
“He’ll probably come back with nothing but junk food.”
“That’d be okay, huh? At least for tonight.”
Dianna exhaled loudly before pushing her face deeper into Paul’s chest. “I fell apart. I completely fell apart.”
“It was a rough day.”
“It’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.”
“It’s still hard.”
“How can I not be married anymore? How can it all just be over?”
He hugged her closer. “Because he’s a goddamned fool.”
He held her close, brushing his hand over her hair until she finally stopped crying. When she was quiet for a few minutes, he whispered, “Sam should be back soon. Why don’t you clean up before he gets home? Show him you’re going to be okay.”
She nodded and then tightened her hold on him before he could get up from the sofa. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.” He rolled to his feet and then reached for her. When she was in front of him, looking up at him with raw desperation, he cupped her face in his hands. “You’re going to get through today, and then you’ll get through tomorrow and the next day. You’re going to be okay.” He hugged her one more time.
She held him as well and took a few deep breaths before easing away from him. He walked with her, his arm over her shoulder, until she went upstairs, and then he walked toward the back of the house. In the kitchen, he pulled out three plates and utensils. He’d just finished setting the table when Sam walked in with a bucket of chicken and a bag of sides.
“Mom’s favorite comfort food,” he announced, setting their dinner on the table. “How is she?”
“She’s all right. She’ll be down in a minute.”
Sam shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a handful of bills. “Here’s your change.”
Paul lifted his hand in dismissal. “Consider it a delivery fee.”
&nb
sp; Sam hesitated, but only for a moment, before shoving the cash back into his pocket. “Thanks. And thanks for coming over. I didn’t know what to do, and she didn’t want to see Kara.”
“I’m glad you called. Really.” Paul pulled glasses out of the cabinet and filled them with water.
“It’s been forever since we’ve had fried chicken. Mom better hurry before I eat it all.”
Paul put the glasses on the table. “I’ll see what’s keeping her.” He left the kitchen and trotted up the stairs. He knocked on the only closed door and slowly pushed it open when he didn’t get a response. He stuck his head into her bedroom. “Di?”
She stepped out of the master bathroom wearing a tattered robe over a T-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. Her hair was pulled back and her face was clean, but her eyes were still red.
“Sam brought chicken.”
“I don’t know if I can eat.”
“You can.” He took her hand. “You have to. Deep breath.”
She did and then let it out slowly. As she did, her tears returned. “Thank you for being here.”
“You’re welcome.” He pulled her gently, but she didn’t budge.
“How can I face him?” She shook her head. “I’m such a failure.”
“Hey,” he said sternly. Putting his hand to her chin, he forced her to look at him. “I know you feel like the world is crashing down on you right now, but you are stronger than you realize. And you are showing Sam what it means to be strong.”
“By falling apart?”
“By not giving up. You’re overcoming a gigantic obstacle right now. And he sees that. You didn’t fail him. You didn’t let him down. You’re proving to him that his mother can get through anything, even if she has a bad day now and then.”
Her lip trembled as he slid his hands down her arms and clutched her hands.
“Come downstairs,” he whispered. “Show him you’re going to be okay. Then we’ll get you tucked into bed, and when you wake tomorrow, you’ll get up and you’ll do it again, knowing that eventually, it’s not going to hurt this much.”
She nodded, and he led her down to the kitchen.
She hugged Sam as he stuffed a chicken breast into his mouth. “Thanks for dinner.”
“It was Paul’s idea,” he said around his mouthful.
She sat in the chair between them as Paul served her. “Did you talk to Jason?”
“He’s okay,” Sam said. “Dad had left him a message.”
“A message? Like a voice mail?”
“Yeah. Jason was pissed about it, but he was okay.”
“God.” She planted her elbows on the table so she could rub her temples. “Who leaves a message like that for his kid?”
Sam tossed his chicken down as he frowned.
Paul set a plate in front of her. “You can’t control what he does,” he said softly.
She nodded and smiled weakly at Sam. “I’ll call Jas later. Thanks for checking on him. I really appreciate it. And thanks for the chicken.” She pulled her plate closer and poked aimlessly at her potatoes.
Paul filled his own plate as he asked Sam about school and college, trying to steer the conversation as far away from Mitch and divorce as he could.
“I guess he asked to use my phone so he could call you,” Dianna said after Sam went upstairs to finish his homework. She sat at the table while Paul put their plates in the dishwasher. He had refused her help so she could call Jason, who insisted he was fine and he’d have to talk to her another time since he was on his way out. Dianna wished she could believe him. She knew better, though. He just didn’t want her to know he was upset.
“I think so.” Paul put the last of the dirty utensils in the rack. He closed the dishwasher and ran his hands under the faucet to wash them. As he leaned against the counter, he dried his hands on a dishtowel.
She laughed softly at the image of him dressed impeccably in slacks, a dress shirt, and tie while he did her dishes. It was so out of place it was amusing.
“Be careful, Di,” he said, tossing the towel down. “You’re smiling.”
“You must be tired,” she said. “You’ve had a long day.”
“Not as long as yours.” He crossed the room and held his hand out. “Come on.”
He bypassed the living room where she expected him to take her and guided her upstairs. “Get ready for bed,” he said as they entered her bedroom.
She considered arguing but didn’t. She brushed her teeth and returned to her room. He’d tugged the blankets back and stretched out on her bed, leaning against the headboard as he looked at his phone.
“That’s my side,” she said, her tone teasing.
He grinned before sliding to the left side of the bed. “My apologies.”
She crawled into the bed beside him, and he moved down to lie behind her. He curled around her, his body pressed against hers. They stayed like that, him spooning her, holding her close without saying a word, for a long time.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered.
“You’re welcome,” he said just as quietly.
She closed her eyes when he kissed the back of her head and entwined her fingers with his. “I don’t think I could get through this without you.”
“Yes, you could,” he said softly. “You’re stronger than you think.”
She laughed flatly. “You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
She rolled over so she could face him. The light coming in from the streetlamp was dim, but she could see his face. “I don’t know what to do, Paul. I just don’t know what to do.”
He hushed her as he pulled her to him, hugging her against his chest. “You don’t have to know what to do right now, Dianna. All you have to do is keep moving forward. The rest will come.”
She exhaled slowly and wrapped her arms around him. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.”
Closing her eyes, she listened to his heartbeat as she drifted off.
Chapter Nine
The Monday Dianna had painters scheduled, Paul had handed over a prepaid credit card and made her promise not to do anything contemporary to his home while he stayed with Matt for the week.
By Thursday, the entire interior of his home had new, lower-key colors. The living and dining rooms were now a soothing blue shade, which contrasted against the new bright white wainscoting and trim. The kitchen and bathrooms were almond with the same bright white on the cabinets. The almond color carried into the guest room as well. His room, however, was a deep saffron yellow that he’d picked out.
By Friday, Dianna was putting the finishing touches on his home. The only photo he’d had out was of him with his sons, but it was several years old. She’d asked Annie to e-mail a few newer pictures. Those were now printed and framed and hanging on the living room wall where Michelle had previously hung box shelves filled with statuettes.
The room looked completely different. It looked homey and comfortable. It looked like a room where Paul belonged.
One final walk around the house, and she was confident in the work she’d done. The last touch was the Christmas tree she’d set up in the corner of the living room. He hadn’t had a single sign of the holiday in his house, and she was determined that he not let the season pass by ignored as he’d tried to do with Thanksgiving.
The doorbell rang, and she checked her watch. She wasn’t expecting Paul until after five, and it was just after three. She smiled when she spotted Annie standing on the porch. Dianna pulled open the door. “Hey.”
“I’m being nosy.” She stepped in and looked around the living room. “Holy shit, Di. This is amazing.”
“Do you think Paul will like it?”
“He’s going to love it. This color is fantastic.” Annie wandered through the house, commenting on various touches Dianna had added. In Paul’s bedroom, she stood at the foot of the bed and nodded. “So. When can you start?”
Dianna creased her brow in confusion. “Start
what?”
“My freelance decorator keeps screwing me over. Once you start, I won’t need her anymore. Of course, you realize you won’t be staging houses full-time. I need you to help in the office mainly. Answering the phone and scheduling appointments. Nothing you can’t handle. You’ll basically be an assistant to the agents.”
“Oh, Annie, it’s very sweet of you—”
“I don’t do sweet. I do practical. You need a job that pays better. I need an office administrator who can decorate. I can’t be everywhere at once. You’re one of the few people I’m not related to that I actually like. I have a low tolerance for bullshit. I trust that you’re not going to give me any bullshit.”
“Look, for whatever reason, Paul has taken me under his wing, which, believe me, has saved me more than once in the last few months, but this isn’t a familial obligation. He has some kind of unfounded guilt over Mitch leaving me high and dry, but my post-divorce hardships are not his problem. And they certainly aren’t yours.”
Annie looked at Dianna for a few moments before starting out of the bedroom. “Has Paul ever talked about our parents?”
“Just that your mother passed away when you were all fairly young.”
“Did he tell you that I turned into a mother hen and just about drove them crazy?”
“Yes. But he said it with love.”
Annie snorted. “I bet.” She stopped in front of the bare Christmas tree and looked at the boxes of ornaments and ribbons. “Dad was a drunk. Not a mean drunk, just a drunk. He couldn’t hold down a job to save his life. Or to feed his family. Paul was just twelve at the time. He took on two paper routes to try to make enough to feed Matty and me. I took over cooking, cleaning, and worrying, and Matty did whatever he could. We had this kind of silent pact to take care of each other because, even if we never said it, we all knew Dad couldn’t raise us. Paul grew up working and negotiating to keep a roof over our heads and the utilities on. He was always taking care of us. He put himself through law school because he didn’t want any of us to have to go without again.”