My Skylar

by Penelope Ward

  “Don’t worry.”

  After I hung up with Mitch, I drove back to the house and parked out front. The sun set into darkness and after two hours, still no sign of Kevin. He hadn’t answered his phone, so there was no choice but to continue waiting. I didn’t have anything to eat or drink, but my appetite was nonexistent regardless.

  Around 11:30, blinding headlights approached from behind my car. Kevin pulled into the garage and immediately closed the electric door. I knew he must have seen me parked out front.

  My mouth was dry, and I felt like I was going to pee my pants as I approached the front door and knocked. He wouldn’t answer. I started to bang on it until my knuckles hurt and finally yelled, “Kevin, let me in!” as a tear drop fell. I hated myself for hurting him.

  He still wouldn’t come to the door. I heard a window open on the second floor and then it started raining clothes. Kevin was throwing all of my belongings down onto the bushes and grass. As I moved toward the window, one of my skirts fell on my head.

  I screamed, “Please talk to me.”

  “There’s nothing to say. I want you and all of your shit gone.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was going to talk to you about it when I got back. Nothing happened before the trip.”

  Seamus was barking again.

  “I should let the bird out the window, too.” I heard him say.

  “Don’t!”

  He finally stopped and stuck his head out. His nostrils flared in anger. “I wouldn’t actually do that, Skylar. That’s the difference between us. I’m not a cold, heartless person.”

  After he seemed to have finished throwing every last item I owned onto the grass, he disappeared. I looked around in shame at my clothing strewn about. When Seamus stopped barking suddenly, the silence was deafening.

  My heart broke for Kevin. I was a terrible person.

  Suddenly, the front door creaked open slowly, and I walked over to it. Kevin leaned against it, blocking me from entering. His eyes were red, and his shirt was untucked. It devastated me to see him looking so disheveled.

  His voice was hoarse. “Did you ever love me?”

  Listening to crickets, I looked down at his shoes and thought about how to respond sensitively to that question. “I thought I did. I care about you so much. You’ve been my world for so long. I love you in many ways, just—”

  “Not the way you love him.”

  I started to cry. “No, not in the same way.”

  He shook his head and rubbed his unshaven chin. “I should have trusted my gut. I knew something was wrong for a very long time. I just tried to ignore it and hoped it would get better.”

  I had the urge to say a million things to try to make him feel better but knew it wouldn’t matter. Making excuses for bad behavior doesn’t change it. I cheated on him with the man I love. Last night, I had somehow justified it in my own mind because I’d mentally ended things with Kevin, vowing to tell him as soon as I got back. Explaining it that way wouldn’t help him, though. This was going to sting no matter what I said, so I chose not to insult him with my own sorry excuse.

  “I don’t want to look at your face anymore tonight,” he said. “You can take your clothes home…wherever that is now. I’ll pack up the rest of your things and drop them off at your mother’s. Please leave.”

  “I understand. I’ll go. Can I please just get Seamus?”

  He sighed and let me in. I walked up the stairs and when I entered the room, Seamus tilted his head at me. He squawked when I grabbed his cage and breathable blanket before carrying him downstairs. He’d been shuffled around so much, he was probably thinking, “not again.”

  Kevin was in the same spot at the door looking at me coldly when I returned. I put Seamus down just long enough to take my diamond off, placing it carefully on the small table in the foyer.

  I took one last look around at the house that never felt like a home and didn’t look back.

  ***

  Darjeeling tea warmed my throat as I sipped it by the window at my mother’s house and pondered what my life had become.

  It had been a month since the altercation with Kevin. We met one time for coffee after that, mainly because I begged him. I needed to know he didn’t hate me. I wanted to reiterate how much I appreciated our years together even if he felt I threw it all away. He didn’t say much as I rambled on nervously that day. He was clearly still bitter and had closed himself off to me. I understood. A part of me would never forgive myself for hurting him, but the meeting gave me a little closure. At least we were on speaking terms. That was more than I would have given him had the roles been reversed. I offered to help take care of the house while it was still on the market, but he declined. He moved to California the next day. His moving away hadn’t phased me, and that validated the fact that I’d made the right choice.

  If someone had told me a month ago that I’d be living at my mother’s house again, I wouldn’t have believed it. Mom was absolutely shocked when she found out what had happened. She knew nothing about Mitch being back in the picture and had really loved Kevin, probably more than I ever did. She didn’t try to push guilt, but things were tense for the first few days back here.

  Mitch had begged me to move in with him. I wanted nothing more, but we needed to let Henry get used to me being around before I invaded their space. There was no need to rush things. Living in their world would also mean someday possibly facing the one thing I hoped I would never have to: Charisma. What if she came to visit? Seeing her was what I dreaded the most. There were a lot of things that scared me but not enough to live my life apart from him anymore.

  In fact, over the past few nights, I couldn’t get enough of Mitch. I felt like a kid again. Waiting for his nightly text would make me giddy. After Henry would fall asleep, Mitch would message me to come over. He’d be waiting at the doorway, watching me cross the street. He’d take me into his arms before I even stepped foot inside. Candles would be flickering in the living room and a bottle of my favorite wine opened. We were forced to be quiet like a couple of teenagers sneaking around. We’d make out on the couch while watching something on Netflix, and that would inevitably turn into mind-numbing sex before the movie was finished. It was the first time in our lives we could just enjoy each other.

  This particular afternoon, when I got up to put my mug in the kitchen, I noticed a piece of white paper had been slipped under the door.

  Meet us at the basketball hoop at three.

  It made me chuckle, realizing he was recreating the first note he ever left me when we were kids.

  My watch showed the time as 2:50, so I went back to the window to wait. About 2:55, Mitch and Henry came outside. Mitch was carrying one of those plastic kids’ basketball hoops. He placed it down in the middle of the concrete driveway as Henry ran around in circles. Mitch was struggling to get his attention, but Henry wouldn’t stop. Finally, he grabbed his son, lifted him up in the air and placed him in front of the hoop. He demonstrated how to throw the ball in, but Henry continued to be more interested in looking down at the ground and running. Mitch lifted him up again and held Henry’s hands around the ball, guiding them into the hoop. When the ball went in, Mitch clapped excitedly while Henry started jogging around him in circles again, completely disinterested in the game.

  Looking defeated, Mitch stood there with the ball under his arm. It made my heart hurt to see him trying so hard. He was such a good father. There was something about that moment, watching him standing there, facing the challenge alone. I really wanted to be a part of it…not tomorrow, not next year…but today and forever. I loved him so much.

  I grabbed my jacket and ran across the street.

  “Hey, you.”

  Mitch’s face brightened when he noticed me. “Hey, you. You’re right on time.”

  I wrapped my arms around him, and he kissed me.

  “I’ve been watching you guys for a while.”

  “Yeah…Henry is more interested in chasing his own shadow
in the sun than playing basketball.”

  “That’s okay. Everyone has their thing.”

  He leaned into me with a smoldering look. “What’s your thing?”

  “You’re my thing,” I said, grabbing his shirt.

  He kissed me again, teasingly nudging at my bottom lip slowly with his teeth and grunted. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He lightly pushed me away. “Alright, get away from me. I’m getting hard.”

  I laughed as he moved the plastic hoop to the side. Henry continued to run around in the middle of a patch of sun closer to the garage door.

  I walked over to him and stooped down to his height. “Hi, Henry.” He wouldn’t stop or look at me.

  “He’s in rare form today,” Mitch said.

  “If that’s what he wants to do, then he should be able to.”

  Mitch passed the ball to me. “You wanna play?”

  “Sure.”

  He wiggled his brows. “Do you remember the rules to our game?”

  “I made the rules to our game, Nichols.”

  “True.”

  We took turns throwing the ball into the hoop, and I was the first to miss.

  “Alright,” he said, scratching his chin. “Name one thing you love about me.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You have to.”

  “There are too many things to name one. I love what an incredible father you are. I love that you never fully gave up on us even when I had. I love how your face lights up whenever you see me. I love how you know your way around my body like no one else. I lo—”

  He cut me off with a kiss and said, “I’ve never felt so lucky in my life.”

  I wasn’t finished. “And I love how you cry like a baby when you come.”

  “Ah….you like that? I’ve dubbed it the weeping orgasm. I’m thinking of turning it into a cocktail. It can be the signature drink at our wedding. We’ll make up the ingredients, and only we’ll know the true meaning behind it.”

  “Our wedding, huh?”

  “Yeah. You okay with that?”

  I felt my eyes watering. “More than okay.”

  “Good. Because I’m never letting you go again.”

  I played with the zipper on his hoodie, contemplating what I was about to propose. “I think we should move in first. How about today?”

  He planted his hands on my face and his eyes widened in excitement. “Are you serious?”

  “Yeah. I’ve decided to take you up on your offer. I’m ready.”

  Mitch let go of me. “Go! Grab your shit and come back here, then. I want you in my bed tonight.”

  “I just have a question.”

  “What?”

  “Do you take birds?”

  “Only old perverted ones.”

  As I was laughing, my eyes wandered to where Henry was playing. He had stopped running around and had picked up the basketball that rolled over toward him. “Check this out, Mitch.”

  Mitch turned around to look.

  Henry walked over to the kid’s hoop and casually dumped the ball in. Mitch shook his head. “He’s got a mind of his own, I guess.”

  “That’s a good sign.”

  Seconds later, he was back to chasing his shadow.

  Mitch tugged at my jacket. “Come inside. Let’s make dinner together. Then, I want to have you later for our celebratory dessert. I’ll help you move in your stuff tomorrow.”

  “Let me just go across the street and get Seamus and some pajamas.”

  When I returned to Mitch and Henry, I laughed at the absurdity of officially moving out of my mother’s house with nothing but a caged parrot and a handful of clothes.

  Seamus started flapping his wings like mad when he saw where we were.

  “He seems excited. You think he remembers this place?” I asked.

  “I think he’s looking forward to crapping all over me later. That’s what I think.”

  Henry came over to the cage and peeked in.

  Mitch tousled the boy’s hair. “You see the bird, Henry? That’s a bird. His name is Seamus. Say, ‘Hi, bird.’”

  Suddenly, Henry started mimicking Seamus’ flapping. It was quite a sight, the two of them flapping at each other. Henry started to laugh and even looked back at Mitch for a reaction.

  Mitch was beaming. “I’ve never seen him this pumped about anything non-electronic.”

  Seamus seemed to be encouraging Henry by flapping his wings faster. When the parrot started bopping his head, Henry let out a belly laugh then started to copy that, too.

  Mitch and I smiled at each other.

  “Well, I think this bird finally found his calling,” I said.

  When Mitch lifted the cage to bring Seamus inside with us, Henry squealed in protest. “Buh…”

  “What did he just say?”

  Mitch’s eyes were glowing. “I think he’s trying to say bird.” He put the cage back down. “Henry, you want to stay outside with the bird?”

  “Bud,” he said.

  I gasped. “He is saying bird!”

  “I think that’s his first official word.”

  This was definitely a day to remember for multiple reasons.

  “Holy Toledo!”

  Mitch and I looked at Seamus in unison.

  “Mitch, he hasn’t said that in years. That is so weird.”

  “Son of a gun. It’s like he knows things are back to the way they should be.”

  That’s the thing about true love. It can rise from the ashes because at its source, it’s indestructible. Layers can be stripped away and lost, but if you’re lucky enough to find them again and put them back together, the end result is stronger than ever.

  That was all I could think of as I stood there with Mitch in our basketball court. After all we’d been through, we found ourselves starting a better life in exactly the place where it all began.

  EPILOGUE

  SKYLAR

  We couldn’t have gotten better weather for a Saturday backyard party. It was warm but dry with low humidity. Mitch was busy cleaning off the outside tables and setting up a makeshift bar in preparation for our guests. Janis was babysitting, so we could get everything ready.

  When the postal delivery truck drove off, I walked down to the mailbox in my flip-flops and sorted through the stack of bills and coupon flyers. An international envelope with the words airmail stamped on the front immediately caught my eye. It was addressed to Skylar Nichols. The return address was London. The waffles I had just eaten for breakfast felt like they were coming up on me.

  Not today.

  There was no way I was going to let this ruin our day.

  I looked around as I entered the house and ran to the upstairs bathroom, shutting the door. She’d better not be trying to make trouble for us. Charisma hadn’t been back to the states once in the years since Mitch and I reunited. I never had to face her like I feared.

  The envelope sliced through my hand, causing a paper cut as I rushed to open the letter. It was hand-written on expensive-looking stationery.

  Dear Skylar,

  I suppose I’m the last person you want to receive mail from. I fully understand. This letter is more for my benefit than yours.

  I’ll get to the point. Certain life circumstances as of late have caused me to reevaluate my actions over the years. I’m facing a health crisis, and while I will spare you the details, let’s just say we now have something else in common besides a history with Mitch.

  I’m writing because I feel as though I need to apologize to you before it’s too late. I’m sorry for the hurt I intentionally caused both of you. My actions were immature, selfish and cruel. I don’t expect you to forget, because that is likely impossible. I am, however, asking for your forgiveness.

  I also want to thank you for giving my child the type of mother he deserves. I realize that I have all but abandoned my son. It’s partly because I was never well-suited to be a mother and mainly, because I’m fairly certain he’s better off with
out me.

  Congratulations on your marriage. I really do wish you the best. Although I suspect you won’t believe that, it’s the truth. You and Mitch undoubtedly belong together and are evidence that fate will always get the last laugh. So will karma. I’m living proof of that.

  Regards,

  Charisma Warner

  My eyes remained glued to the letter in my hands. I didn’t know what to make of it. A vague feeling of sadness caught me off guard. I did pity her. She would never know the kind of joy I experienced with Henry on a daily basis, helping him learn and celebrating every single stride he makes. Moreover, he loved me and showed it in his own special ways. I was the only mother he’d ever known.

  I folded the paper, closed my eyes and said a prayer. If there were any true sign of forgiveness, it would be praying for the well-being of your worst enemy. After that, I experienced an inner-peace that couldn’t have come at a better time.

  Mitch wouldn’t find out about this letter today. I didn’t want to upset him because this day was too important to both of us. I took the envelope into the bedroom and tucked it inside my drawer, vowing to show it to him tomorrow.

  We’d been married now for almost three years. About six months after I moved into his house, he asked me to sit down one night to a movie after dinner. When he pressed play, what really showed up was a montage of pictures of us that Angie had taken over the years. All of Me by John Legend played in the background of the slideshow.

  I was dumbfounded. There were shots of just our hands holding together and from when we were teenagers of Mitch looking at me adoringly when he didn’t know his picture was being taken. The love was written all over his face even back then. There were shots of him kissing my head when I was sick, prom night and the Lake George trip. The five-year gap was painfully obvious, though, before photos that he had taken of us together with Henry appeared. At the very end, the words To Be Continued popped up on the screen, followed by Will You Marry Me? I’ll never forget that moment when I turned to him and looked into his eyes. He was fumbling and nervous as he took the ring out of his shirt. Like I would ever say no.