Ethan’s smile was full of relief. “I’m very okay with that. My room smells like fried chicken.”
“You love fried chicken.”
“Let me clarify. It smells like fried chicken left in a dumpster that the rats thought was too gross to eat.”
“Mmm, delicious,” Ben answered, rubbing a hand over his belly. Ethan rolled his eyes and walked away.
At nearly six foot three, his son could definitely pack away the food, and Ben observed in some fascination as Ethan scarfed down a double stack of pancakes along with half a dozen pieces of bacon and some hash browns before even slowing down. No wonder the kid was two inches taller than he was. Even so, everyone said they looked alike, both with dark hair and the same smile. Ethan had Sophia’s eyes, though. A dark chocolate brown, whereas Ben’s eyes were what his ninety-three-year-old grandmother always referred to as the Chase family blue. No one else ever called it that. Just her. But she said it often enough to make up for the fact that no one else ever mentioned it.
Throughout breakfast, Ben shared with Ethan the plans he had for the house. Tearing out a center wall and opening up the kitchen to the rest of the house. All new appliances and flooring and fixtures and paint. Ethan nodded while he chewed, not really voicing an opinion other than to say, “That sounds cool.” He did like Ben’s ideas for putting in a bigger backyard patio and adding a firepit.
“Maybe we can even build one of those backyard pizza ovens or something like that,” Ben said. “Maybe a hot tub?”
“Can you add an outdoor TV screen so we can sit in the hot tub while eating pizza and watching football?” Now Ethan was finally getting engaged, but all Ben could think of was pizza clogging up the jets and drains of the hot tub. He might have to rethink this plan.
“Probably.”
“Cool. But, hey, Dad, before we head back to Casa de Caca, can I talk to you about something?” Ethan wiped his hands on a wadded-up napkin and tossed it on his now-empty plate. Something in his tone told Ben this wasn’t some run-of-the-mill topic. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“Sure. What’s up?”
Ethan stared at that napkin for a second before his dark eyes met Ben’s blue ones. He took a shallow breath before saying, “I know you have to do a bunch of stuff to the house, and that’s going to take a lot of time and all your attention and stuff, but I was wondering if . . . I want to live with you full-time. I don’t want to switch between houses.”
Ben tried hard to school his reaction, not wanting to immediately shout out a big hell yes, because this was a major development, and even though he’d rather not discuss anything about anything with Sophia ever again, they still had to coparent. They hadn’t worked out any custody arrangements yet because Ben had been living with his sister. In fact, they hadn’t even officially filed for divorce yet, because they’d agreed to wait until Ben had closed on his new house, and now that he had, they were about to begin the sure-to-be-unpleasant division of marital assets, not to mention the dissolution of Ben’s partnership with Doug. Things could get very messy very quickly once they started talking about money, and if custody was also on the table, messier still.
“I understand, Ethan,” Ben said calmly, “and I wish I could give you an answer right now, but that’s a decision your mother and I still have to discuss. Can you tell me why you’d rather live with me full-time?”
Ethan’s lips quirked into a half smile, reminding Ben of how his son had looked as a little kid. Impish and sassy and a bit too smart for his own good. “You’ve been talking to Aunt Kenzie again, haven’t you?” Ethan said. “I can always tell when she’s done the woo-woo therapy number on you.” He waggled his fingers over his plate as if something mystical were happening.
Ben found himself smiling back, because his son was spot-on. Kenzie was his go-to these days for all things divorce and parenting related. Thank God for her. She was available 24-7, she was extremely respected in her field, and best of all, she worked for vodka. These past few months while he’d crashed at her house, they’d gone through at least three bottles of Tito’s.
“I may have had some conversations with Aunt Kenzie, but I’d like to think I could have come up with that response on my own. So what’s your reasoning?”
“Because I can’t stand her.” Ethan’s smile faded, and all the lightheartedness in his tone escaped like steam. Ben felt a hot knife twist in his gut. For all the hurt Sophia had caused him, he was still surprised by the intensity of the anger bringing a flush to Ethan’s skin.
“She’s not the same, Dad. Ever since you left, she’s just . . . different. She dresses different. She goes out all the time. I heard her on the phone being all gross and flirty with that asshat she’s sleeping with.” His tone was full of distaste, with undertones of hurt.
Another twist in the gut for Ben, followed by a virtual kick in the groin.
“What makes you think she’s sleeping with someone?”
Ethan paused, staring at his dad with the OMG, yer so dumb expression that Ben chose to chalk up to standard teen attitude and not as a personal insult.
“Come on, Dad. I’m not a little kid, and Mom hasn’t been all that discreet. Even Addie figured it out, and I didn’t tell her. Isn’t that why you’re getting divorced? Because she’s having an affair?”
Ben wished he had Kenzie on speed dial right now, because he had no idea how honest to be. Ethan was nearly eighteen, technically an adult, but this was his mother they were talking about. Her betrayal to Ben aside, could he—should he—admit to their son she was indeed cheating? Especially with good old Uncle Doug, whom Ben had been in business with for the past ten years? If there was a handbook for this sort of thing, he hadn’t found it.
“It’s not usually one single thing that breaks up a marriage, Ethan. It can be an accumulation of things, but . . .” Oh, what the hell. The kid already guessed. “Yes, she is involved with someone.”
“Doug?” Ethan said as if on a dare, and Ben wasn’t clever enough to hide his reaction that time.
“I thought so,” Ethan said, falling back against his seat only to bounce forward again, his expression full of resentment. “He’s around all the time ‘helping.’” He made air quotes around the word. “He’s a total douche, and Mom is a nutcase, and that’s why I don’t want to live there. I’m sure Aunt Kenzie would tell you it’s an unhealthy environment. And anyway, once I turn eighteen, I should get to decide for myself where I live.”
Ben stared at his son, feeling a dozen different emotions. Anger at Sophia for putting them all in this situation. Sadness that their family and their lives were being dismantled piece by piece. And respect for Ethan for being bold enough to put it all out there. Ben would never have had this kind of conversation with his own father. In fact, he still couldn’t imagine it, and his father was seventy-one years old. Then again, no one challenged William Geoffrey Chase. It just wasn’t done.
Ben pondered this situation, moving the facts around like pieces to a puzzle that had no image to work toward. Maybe in some cases total honesty wasn’t the best policy, but it seemed like Ethan had earned it from him. He wouldn’t embellish, but he’d tell the truth. Consequences be damned.
“Okay, kid. Here’s the deal. I’d love to have you live with me full-time, and Addie, too, if she wants that, but your mom and I are just at the beginning of all the mediation crap, and that’s going to take some time. If I go at her saying I want full custody, she’ll flip her shit and then nobody gets what they want. Can you be patient and trust me to handle this?”
Ethan’s eyes lit up like Christmas morning. “You mean I can come live with you full-time?”
“I mean I’ll do my best to try to make that happen, but in the meantime, you and Addie will have to try and go with the flow. I know that doesn’t seem fair, because you guys didn’t ask for any of this, but I also know that your mom loves you and she’s going to want to see you as much as possible. Plus, school starts soon, and then hopefully we’ll
all get into a new routine.”
Ah, yes. A new routine. A new normal, as his sister had called it in therapistspeak. He wasn’t really sure what that even meant, but she seemed to suggest it was a deliberate attempt to cast aside all the old shit that wasn’t working in your life and focus on creating systems that did work. Again, he was kind of at a loss. What was going to work for him and his kids? How was he supposed to move on when all he really wanted to do was set everything on fire? Kenzie had said something to him about being patient, too, but patience was in short supply.
“I promise I’ll see what I can do. Now let’s get home, because you are on unpacking duty.”
“Or . . .” Ethan dragged out the word. “We could go golfing.”
Ben glanced out the window of the IHOP. It was sunny and warm and a great day to be outside. His son didn’t ask him to do things very often, usually preferring the company of friends, and next year he’d be off to college. Days like this would be numbered. Maybe the boxes could wait.
“Golf it is, but I’m going to kick your ass, just so you know.”
“Challenge accepted, old man.”
Chapter 3
Getting the oil changed in her car had turned into an unexpectedly expensive endeavor and included a new air filter, new windshield wipers, and four new tires. Carli wasn’t certain if she should be proud of herself for being proactive about her car’s maintenance or feel foolish because a service mechanic had just sold her a bunch of stuff she didn’t really need. He’d said she needed it, but weren’t mechanics prone to selling you things that weren’t essential? She had no idea. Steve had always handled the car stuff, just as he’d handled all the repair stuff around the house. It was frustrating to not know how to do certain things that needed doing, or to not be physically strong enough or tall enough to handle the more standard tasks, like trimming the damn shrubs. The forsythia bushes on the side of her house were about nine feet tall right now, and even though she had trimmers and a ladder, there was no way she could reach where she needed to reach. Hiring someone would cost a stupid amount of money, and although she knew she could summon one of the neighborhood husbands, she hated asking for favors. Especially nonemergency favors.
Gus shimmied in the passenger seat next to her. In addition to the car repairs, she’d also just paid a bundle to the dog groomer to give him a thorough (and essential) bath, thanks to his doggie misadventures yesterday. He’d run away into the woods behind her house and somehow managed to find the one and only marshy spot within a hundred-yard radius. Although she was grateful he’d come back when she called, he’d had more than enough time on the lam to roll around in the muck and returned covered in mud from the tip of his shiny black nose to the opposite tip of his gummy, goop-covered tail. She’d hosed him off as best as she could, dousing herself in the process, and he’d spent the entire evening in his crate making all sorts of sad puppy faces at her. She’d even made him spend the night in there, but now he was clean and fresh again and seemingly eager to be home. Then again, he was a dog. He was always eager about something. She lowered the window, and he stuck his nose out to show off his fancy shampooed head and spent the rest of the drive home barking at other cars.
It was late afternoon as Carli pulled into her driveway, and she sighed at the sight of meddlesome Lynette standing outside. At just five feet two inches tall, her neighbor had expensively maintained breasts that nearly doubled her body weight and white-blonde hair cut in an I’d like to speak to the manager style that, unfortunately, suited her perfectly. Carli didn’t have the time or energy for her right now. She also didn’t have the time or energy for the messiness of her own landscaping. Everything was overgrown, and if she didn’t deal with it soon, she’d get a strongly worded letter from the homeowners’ association. Maybe trimming the forsythia was an emergency. They had standards here in Monroe Circle, after all. Grass taller than six inches for more than three days would get her a warning, and wildly misshapen hedges would result in a personal letter from the board. Half the reason Carli maintained even a lukewarm friendship with her neighbor from across the street was because Lynette sat on the board and wielded her power with an overzealous enthusiasm. Pissing her off could mean a nasty note about those dandelions near the mailbox, and since Lynette was, at this exact moment, staring at Carli’s house, it couldn’t be good news.
“Hey, Carli!” Lynette called from the end of her driveway and trotted over before Carli could close the garage door. Sensitive about her vertical challenges, Lynette always wore high heels. They slowed her down, but not enough so that Carli could escape. She was wearing a white tennis skirt and a white tank top with a V-neck that amplified the length of her cleavage. That wasn’t by accident. Clackity-clack-clack. Lynette’s shoes on the pavement were like Morse code for I’m coming to get you.
“Hey, Lynette,” she said blandly, wrapping Gus’s leash tightly around her wrist. He had a habit of bounding from the car as soon as the door opened, and as much as she might enjoy letting him plow forward and knock Lynette over on her well-cushioned ass, she thought better of it. She eased her way out instead, and he jumped at the first chance, pulling her along until they’d reached the grass, where he stopped to pee. Lynette flinched at the sight of him, then said without preamble, “I’ve met the new neighbor, and I’m not impressed.”
“Not impressed? Why?” Carli glanced over at his house. The garage door was open, and she could see the area was full of boxes and old carpet. The moving van was gone, and a shiny black sedan remained. She had no idea what kind of car that was, but it looked expensive. And it probably didn’t smell like cold french fries and sour soccer cleats, like her car did.
“I found him very rude,” Lynette said. “I took the time to make him an apple cobbler, and I delivered it while it was still warm—still warm, mind you! But when I offered to tell him more about the neighborhood, he told me he was too busy. And then, when I gave him the flyer for the End of Summer Barbecue, he hardly even glanced at it before practically kicking me out of his house. So rude! He is handsome, though. I’ll give him that. Have you met him yet?”
“I haven’t. It’s only been two days. I’m sure he appreciated the cobbler, but he’s probably pretty busy with moving and everything. Looks like he’s tearing up the carpet.” She nodded at the garage full of scraps.
Lynette arched a heavily microbladed brow. “Well, you’re nice to defend him, but you weren’t there. He was abrasive. He practically shut the door in my face.”
Little did Lynette realize that everyone wanted to shut the door in her face.
“I’m sorry,” Carli said, tugging on Gus’s leash so he’d sit down.
“You don’t need to be sorry. You weren’t the one who was rude.” Lynette glared over at the neighbor’s house as if it had been rude.
Carli felt compelled to say I’m sorry again, but she didn’t, because Lynette’s intense gaze moved from the neighbor’s house to Gus, and she knew the woman hadn’t really forgiven him for chasing her precious maltipoo into a cluster of thorny rosebushes almost two months ago, even though that ratty little dog was a terror in her own right. Lynette’s dog, Mitzee, was eight pounds of yappity-yap-yap, and the only reason Gus had chased her was because she’d egged him on from the edge of her own yard until he couldn’t take it anymore. At least that’s what Carli had decided. She’d give her own dog the benefit of the doubt. And now that she thought about it, maybe it was good that she hadn’t gotten her daughters one of those little tiny dogs that went yappity-yap-yap all the time. Mitzee and Lynette had a lot in common.
“How is his training going?” Lynette asked, tilting her head in Gus’s direction while looking skeptical. “That Mrs. Stern is a miracle worker. She’s trained my little Mitzee to pee in the same spot in the yard every single time and to sit politely when people come to the door. Of course, that’s Mitzee’s personality, too. Mrs. Stern can only do so much.”
Lynette did the pseudosympathetic tsk, tsk, tsk, but all Carli heard wa
s clackity-clack-clack and yappity-yap-yap-yap. “His training is going fine. He just needs to mature a little bit. He still has all that impulsive puppy energy to outgrow.” Dear Lord baby Jesus, please let that be true.
“Hm,” Lynette said dismissively, her eyes scanning the perimeter of the yard as if she was literally looking for something to complain about. And, of course, she found it. “You are going to do something about your bushes soon, aren’t you? Do you want me to have Mike come over and trim them? If those things get any taller, you won’t be able to see your roof. We have bylaws to adhere to, you know.”
Carli tamped down a sigh. She was well aware of the bylaws, and she did kind of want Mike Barker to come over and trim them for her, because he was the antithesis of his wife—cheerful and generous and he never complained about anything—but then Carli would owe Lynette a favor, and the thought of it rankled her.
“Um, maybe. I’ll let you know. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Of course. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to have your husband just up and leave you without so much as a hint of warning. If Mike ever did that to me—not that he would, mind you—but if he did, I’d make sure my substantial alimony covered the cost of a landscaper. A sexy, young landscaper.” She laughed as if her clever quip were such a very clever quip, but it wasn’t, of course, and Carli was left to wonder if her comments were supposed to be helpful. Supportive? Tone-deaf? Passive-aggressive?
She cleared her throat and shrugged them off, because educating Lynette was a waste of time, and she’d learned over the past months to not take these kinds of comments too personally. If she did, she’d spend all day, every day analyzing and agonizing over clueless people’s thoughtless observations. The uninitiated had no idea the amount of legal and emotional untethering the end of a marriage required, or how delicate the balance of power became when you were talking about things like alimony and custody. Or how draining the whole experience was. By any standards, Carli knew her divorce from Steve had been about as passionless as their marriage, but even so, it was the worst thing she’d ever gone through. Having a sexy landscaper wasn’t going to change that.
The New Normal Page 3