The New Normal

by Brogan, Tracy

  Carli glanced over at the family portrait hanging above the bed, a shot taken several years ago of her and Steve with Tess and Mia in between, the four of them smiling from a Bell Harbor sand dune. The gold-framed picture had hung in that spot for so long she never even noticed it anymore. Or maybe she did but still cherished the memory of that day. It was yet another area of divorce that was hard to navigate—how to remember the good times without getting caught up in wanting to recapture them. There had been some good times. Magical times, even, but if she sat with those memories for too long, it just made her sad and remorseful. Not because she thought she and Steve should still be together, but because she wished they could have made those magical times last longer. Then she remembered the fresh hell that was her recent college tour with him and realized Erin was right. Those memories needed to be put in a box and stuffed into the attic.

  “I suppose I could do a little rearranging,” Carli said.

  “Screw rearranging,” Erin said, getting up from the floor. “You need to Marie Kondo the shit out of this place. Have a massive garage sale or just donate a bunch of stuff to charity and start over. Paint the walls. Get a new bedspread. Buy some throw pillows. All those knickknacks in your family room? They are all about Steve. It’s time for a purge.”

  Carli frowned at her, starting to feel defensive. Sometimes Erin was a little pushy under the guise of just being honest. “And how exactly am I supposed to pay for all new stuff? My new job hasn’t even started yet, and I’m a little more worried about fixing the broken air conditioner than painting the walls.”

  Erin blushed. “You know if you need money, you just have to ask.”

  Carli blushed as well. “I don’t need money. I appreciate the offer, but that’s not the issue. I can pay my bills, but I don’t have a lot left over for frivolous stuff like décor. I’d rather spend that money on my kids.”

  “But . . . ,” Erin said slowly, “maybe teaching your kids that putting your own needs first once in a while is an okay thing for a woman to do. You deserve to have a pretty house and a pretty bedroom. I’m not saying break the bank by buying a ton of new stuff, but a can of paint is, like, forty dollars. Tell you what, after brunch, let’s go to the home-goods store. I haven’t gotten you a birthday present yet, so how about I buy you a new comforter and some new sheets? Please?”

  Carli felt a stab of longing and forgave her friend’s pushiness, because a new bedspread might be nice. The one she had right now was tan microfiber with Sherpa fleece on the other side. It was at least ten years old and the only one that she and Steve could agree on, because he’d refused to have any girly, floral shit in his master bedroom. “My birthday isn’t until December.”

  “Okay, then let’s call it a congratulations on your new job present. And if you’re worried about paying for any new décor, you know you can sell the old stuff online. I made a tidy bundle with my stuff by doing that.”

  Carli chuckled as she swiped on a bit of lipstick, all agitation now gone. “I imagine your hand-me-down items were a little less worn, torn, dented, and chipped than mine would be, but it’s something to think about.”

  And think about it, she did. In fact, during lunch, it was practically all the four of them talked about. After the inevitable and much appreciated well wishes about her job upgrade, they spent the next two hours planning her home improvements.

  “Even the things you don’t get rid of, you can repurpose,” Renee said. “Recover the dining room chairs, paint the armoire, add trim to the lampshades.”

  Carli chuckled. “I can pretty much promise I’m not going to add trim to my lampshades. That’s just not me,” she said as they sat in the booth at the Chrysanthemum Café, a trendy little bistro in downtown Glenville.

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” Renee replied. “I have mad skills with a glue gun, and I’m happy to embellish anything you’ll let me at. In fact, I think we should make a girls’ day of it. I’ll help you sort through what you’ve got and sell the stuff you want to get rid of. I don’t have a project right now, so please let me help. You’d actually be doing me a favor, because Rob’s been picking up extra shifts and RJ never answers my text messages. I’m bored out of my mind. Let me help you purge and redecorate.”

  “You’re that bored?” DeeDee asked. “Jeez, as soon as you’re done with her house, will you come do mine? The only thing I seem to be good at getting rid of is husbands. I have way too much stuff in my house, and I’d love to unload some of it.”

  Renee’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’d let me do that?”

  DeeDee laughed. “Let you? Hell yes, I’ll let you.”

  After lunch, Carli went home and strategically strolled through her house with a (mostly objective) critical eye and realized Erin was right. She was so right! The artwork on the walls, the knickknacks on the shelves, even the furniture and the color schemes all said Steve. He liked earth tones like rust and beige and chocolate brown. Staring into her family room as if for the very first time, Carli had a realization. Or perhaps it was a full-blown and final acknowledgment of something she’d known, deep down, for a very long time. She frickin’ hated earth tones. She might not have minded them at first, and she’d wanted to be a good sport and a supportive wife, so she’d let Steve have his way with most of the choices—it was just easier that way—but this was her house now. Just hers, and it was time to make some changes.

  By the time her daughters got home from school, Carli had loaded dozens of things onto the dining room table to have Renee sort through to sell or donate, including a set of tarnished brass candlesticks that Steve’s grandmother had given them as a wedding present. Carli had always thought they looked like weapons from the game Clue, but Steve insisted on displaying them because they looked expensive. She’d stacked up all the biographies about dead presidents he’d purchased but never read. Those books hadn’t fooled anyone. Everyone knew he never read anything except Golf Digest. There was the buffalo figurine he’d bought during a business trip to South Dakota, the metal B-17 bomber replica he’d built when he was twelve, and a set of bookends shaped like peacocks his mother had given them for Christmas the first year they were married that Carli had hated from the first second she’d seen them.

  She scooped up all the rust and beige accent pillows and the brown plaid throw blanket that always hung over the back of the sofa and took down most of the artwork. Pictures of the kids she left in place, with plans to update them, but the prints of flying geese were history. Carli was on a roll, and she wasn’t stopping now. She could hardly wait to get up to her bedroom and take down that picture over her bed. This place was no longer Steve’s castle. It was Carli’s castle.

  “Wow, Mom,” Tess said that afternoon, walking into the family room and spinning around slowly to take in the absence of what had once been there. “What’cha doing?”

  “Just a little redecorating.”

  Mia wandered in behind Tess, her eyes surveying the now nearly barren room. “Cool, but I think you might be taking the minimalist look a bit far, Mom.”

  “I plan to get replacements and paint the walls,” she said. “Maybe get some new pillows and area rugs. You guys don’t mind, do you?” She suddenly wondered if she should’ve asked them first. It was her house, of course, but it was also theirs. Maybe they were emotionally attached to that cheap-ass print of the goose flying over a stone bridge that used to hang by the front door.

  “Mind?” Tess said with a chuckle. “I’m thrilled. This place always looked like Grandma and Grampa’s house.” Then she blushed. “I mean, I’m sorry. That sounded really rude.”

  But Carli laughed right along with her, because Tess was right. It looked like Steve’s parents’ house, right down to the heavy, ostentatious curtains and the fake Persian rug under the cherrywood dining room table. This place wasn’t her style at all. How had that happened? How had her own personality been so thoroughly subdued in her own house? And why had she let it happen?

  “Someti
mes relationships are like two balloons inside a shoebox,” one of the marriage counselors had told Carli during a private one-on-one session shortly before Steve had moved out. “There’s only so much room inside the box, and as one balloon gets bigger, the other balloon has to shrink or one of them will pop. From what I’ve seen between you and Steve, he’s one of those larger-than-life kind of people who doesn’t like to yield much space, either physically or emotionally. You’ve chosen to get smaller to accommodate him.”

  Carli had bristled at the time, saying, “I don’t think I’ve exactly chosen it.”

  But the therapist had gone on to explain, “It probably doesn’t seem that way because you didn’t deliberately choose it, but you’ve allowed it, and I don’t mean that to sound judgmental. You allow it because it’s how you’ve learned to function within the framework of your relationship. If a day comes when you decide you deserve to thrive rather than just survive, Steve will have to adapt. If he can.”

  Her words had stung at the time, and they’d left Carli with a sense of dread rather than hope, so she hadn’t gone back to that counselor again. Now she realized the woman had been right on the money. Any time Carli tried to assert herself, to make herself bigger or even equal, Steve had squashed her. Once, when the kids were little, Carli had wanted a new bike. A cute bike in a pastel color with a wicker basket. Steve kept insisting she get a ten-speed. Something with gears that she could shift to make pedaling easier, but Carli had been twenty-eight years old at the time, and if she wanted the turquoise-blue bike with the tan wicker basket, then damn it, that’s the one she was going to buy. They’d had a huge argument in the bike store with all the salesclerks surreptitiously observing until Steve finally blurted out, “Fine. You know what? Get the blue bike. I’ve decided I’m going to let you make this mistake just so you see how wrong you are.”

  She’d been so stunned and humiliated at the insult she’d walked out of the store without another word. And without either bike.

  For her birthday a few months later, Steve presented her with the ten-speed along with an assurance that it was the right bike for her. She should have driven over it with her car and given the mangled metal back to him for his birthday, but he’d given it to her with such elaborate ceremony and with the kids watching, and so she accepted it graciously. Because she thought that was the mature thing to do. But every time she rode that damn bike, and every time she shifted the gears, she thought of how she’d felt that day in the bike store. Stupid. Small. Voiceless.

  But she wasn’t voiceless, and Steve wasn’t here anymore, and now she could grow as big as she damn well pleased. And if she wanted to get a floral bedspread and paint her bedroom pink or orange or lime green, it was her choice. She crossed her arms and surveyed the nearly empty living room and decided she liked this house better already.

  “So, girls,” she said as they walked into the kitchen. “This weekend, we’re going to the paint store. And the home-goods store. And maybe the furniture store, too.”

  “I like what this new job is doing to you, Mom,” Tess said. “Can I paint my room, too?”

  “Absolutely,” Carli answered without even hesitating. “Mia, how about you? Would you like to paint your bedroom?”

  Mia shrugged as she took a container of soy yogurt from the fridge. “Sure, I guess. Except I’ll be moving to college next fall. Is it worth it?”

  Carli refused to let that reminder sink her good mood. She’d cross that bridge later. “Yes, of course it’s still worth it. That’s almost a year away, and I think we could all use some fresh, new colors around here.”

  “I want my color scheme to match my Nolan Hart poster,” Tess said with a giggle. “And then I want to hang the poster on my ceiling.”

  Carli smiled. “Who is Nolan Hart?”

  “Don’t you remember? He was on the Disney Channel, and then last year he put out an album. You know that one song, the ‘Love You for Forever’ song?” She hummed a few bars, but Carli shook her head.

  “Sorry, still not ringing any bells.”

  “Alexa,” Mia said loudly, standing in the kitchen and eating her yogurt. “Play ‘Love You for Forever.’” Seconds later the room filled with music.

  “Oh, that song,” Carli said. “Yeah, I like that song. Not sure about you putting a poster on your ceiling, though.”

  Tess pulled out her phone and tapped on the screen. “Let me find a picture of him. You might change your mind. He’s so hot he makes Ethan Chase look like Shrek.”

  Carli laughed, and as the music played, and her daughters began to sing along, she felt a new sort of peace. She felt like she was standing on the bubble of optimism again, where all was right with the world. It might not last, but she was going to enjoy it for as long as it did. Then Tess showed her a photo of the infamous Nolan Hart, and damn, that was one good-looking kid. If it wouldn’t be so unseemly for a woman of her demographic, she’d put a picture of him over her bed, too.

  Chapter 13

  “And this is your room,” Ben said to Addie as they walked to the end of the hall. “You can pick out whatever color scheme you want. The carpet will be installed next week, and we’ll get you a desk and obviously a bed. I would’ve gotten one for you before, but I thought you might want to pick it out yourself. I know the house is still kind of rough, but I’m working on it.”

  He was nervous. He wanted her to like it here, but so far, the visit wasn’t going all that well. His daughter’s wavy light brown hair hung halfway down her back. She’d grown over the summer, and in spite of her new height, or perhaps because of it, she was as reed slender as ever. And significantly less chatty than he was used to. Thus far, his fourteen-year-old had yet to express any kind of opinion on the house. Or about anything else, for that matter. He’d picked her up from Sophia’s almost three hours ago, and so far all she’d said was that school was okay, her friends were nice, and she was fine. Even for a woman of only fourteen, he knew that fine was typically indicative of virtually anything other than fine. Logically, he also knew that seeing this house might be hard for her. Kenzie had warned him that she’d see it as proof that he and Sophia probably weren’t going to get back together.

  “Fathers and fourteen-year-old girls rarely speak the same language,” Kenzie had told him. “So don’t try to use dad logic with her. She won’t buy it. Just listen and nod your head and keep asking her how she feels about stuff. She might have trouble articulating it, but she just needs to know that you’re willing to listen. And don’t be surprised if she treats you like the enemy.”

  “Me? I’m the enemy?” he’d said. That couldn’t be right.

  But Kenzie had explained it this way. “To her, you’re the one who moved out. You’re the one who let Sophia down. It’s bullshit, I know, but Addie won’t really be able to separate her emotions from her need to get things back to the way she wants them to be. And at her age—shit, at any age—it’s hard for kids to understand all the layers. Just give her time. Be patient.”

  That’s how all his conversations with his sister ended these days. With her reminding him to be patient. So that’s what he was trying to do, but Addie sure wasn’t making it easy. He’d been at this house for over a month now, and this was the first time he’d been able to convince her to even come see it.

  “So,” he prompted. “What do you think? You got the room with the best view of the backyard so you can see the trees. And if you want, I can hang some bird feeders out there, and maybe we can attract some hummingbirds.”

  Her expression suggested that she thought she was the one being patient with him.

  “I’m kind of over the hummingbird thing, Dad. I haven’t been interested in them in, like, a year.”

  He nodded. “Okay, what are you interested in?”

  Her shrug was minute, a visual indicator of her total indifference. Patience, Kenzie had said. He needed patience.

  “How about ice cream? Are you interested in ice cream?”

  “I guess. Not sure wh
at that has to do with my room.”

  “Nothing, but I’ve really missed you, so I feel like being together is something to celebrate.” He could see the wheels turning in her head, and he had no idea if bribing her with treats was the way to go. She was fourteen, not four, but at least he got a nod out of her.

  “Ice cream sounds okay.”

  “Awesome. There’s a place not too far from here. There’s a theater, too. Feel like watching a movie? Have you seen the latest Avengers yet? I heard it’s pretty good.”

  “Um, yeah. I saw that a couple days ago with Mom and Doug.”

  His stomach clenched like he’d taken a hearty punch to the gut, and Addie immediately added, “Oh my gosh. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Dad.”

  “It’s okay.” God damn, it’s so not okay.

  “No, it isn’t,” Addie said, reaching out to touch his arm. “Mom shouldn’t be hanging around with him all the time. I didn’t want to go to the movies with them, but . . . I really wanted to see the Avengers.” Guilt swirled over her expression as her face fell.

  He covered her hand with his own, noticing how small and delicate it was. Addie was a strong girl, and yet she’d always be his baby. “You don’t need to apologize, honey. And you don’t need to hide anything from me, either. You’re stuck in the middle of something that you didn’t create and that you don’t have much control over. Honestly, right now none of us have much control over this. We all just have to kind of ride it out and try to be patient.” There was that word again, but Addie didn’t seem to be a fan of it, either.

  “I don’t like Doug. I mean, I used to, but I don’t get why he’s over all the time. I mean,” she said again, “I do get why he’s over, and that’s just gross. So gross.”

  Ben agreed. It was gross. And inappropriate and unfair, and it made him want to punch his fist into a wall while simultaneously scooping his daughter up into the tightest hug since the invention of hugs. He chose the latter, and having her in his arms felt bittersweet.