Better Off Divorced

by Marianne Hansen

  “I would’ve been a very successful attorney. Thank you very much,” I said. “Or translator.”

  “That’s right. That’s right.” He stood as he spoke. “What other language are you fluent in?”

  “None,” I admitted while shuffling some papers. “But I’d taken a few years of Spanish and I had a job in Spain lined up before I decided loooove conquered all.”

  He grabbed my left hand; his thumb playing with my ring. “Our love will. Obviously.”

  “Obviously,” I agreed.

  He walked to the doorway. “What time will you be finished today?”

  “I think I’m heading to the deli this afternoon, so probably not until five.” My good mood from Simon faltered at this thought. “Do you want to come over for dinner?”

  “John has James tonight?”

  I looked at my calendar. “Yes. He gets him after dinner.” I closed my eyes remembering how the morning hadn't gone well. “It’s only for the night, though. James asked to go just for one night and John said okay.”

  Simon nodded. “I’ll come over at five and make dinner for everyone.”

  My smile came back. “You really are the love of my life.”

  He waved me off as he walked out the door.

  2

  My classroom door opened.

  “Ms. Harper?” a falsetto voice asked.

  I looked up to see Paul, my oldest, walk into the room. He was wearing his personal uniform of a t-shirt with a sports logo and jeans. I looked down at his shoes. The only time he tied them was when he ran track. I’d thought by the time he'd become a junior in high school, he’d have learned the benefits of a tied shoe. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. I spent my days parenting a teen who felt a good form of rebellion was to trip over his own laces.

  “And how may I help you, young man?” I asked. “Would you like me to tie your shoes?”

  “I’m finished with practice,” Paul said, in his regular voice.

  “Where’s Tyler?”

  He shrugged. “Can you take him home?”

  I looked at the clock. It was four.

  “Did your practice end early? Doesn’t it usually go until five?”

  Paul shrugged again. “I asked coach if I could bail out a little early, and he said it would be okay.”

  I nodded. “Did your Dad show up again?”

  Another shrug.

  “Tyler's okay with him there?” I asked. I stayed leaning back. I was not going to show Paul how frustrated I was with the situation. I was grateful Tyler could handle his father better even though he was a year younger than Paul, but I wished neither one of them had to deal with these awkward moments.

  “When will Tyler be finished?” I paused. “And if you shrug again, I’blondp you.”

  Paul looked up at me through his blond bangs. He kept the sides of his hair shaved, but let the top of his hair grow down to his chin. He had my magnificently shiny, blond hair. I hoped one day he styled it better.

  I fake smiled. He slowly grinned. “Today is just a normal practice, so it should be five.”

  “I need you to go straight home.”

  “Why?”

  I pulled out my datebook and opened it. “I have to call the deli for the reunion. I don't know how long it will take to fix our order. And I don't like James being alone too long.”

  “Isn’t James old enough to be alone by now?” Paul sounded perturbed.

  I put my fake smile back on. “Paul, he’s seven, and I don’t feel comfortable with him alone. I don’t know how long I’ll be, and Simon won’t be there until later. It’s a Mom thing. Go with it.”

  “Why do you have to do so much with this stupid reunion anyhow? It’s not your reunion.” Paul kicked at the ground.

  “Because I’m an amazing person.” I paused and looked at him for a moment. “And I don’t think you really care that I’m spending time working on a stupid reunion.”

  “It’s stupid to work on something that even you think is stupid.”

  “I’m not buying it,” I said.

  Paul looked at his sneakers and shook his head. “Dad’s such an asshole.”

  “Hey,” I pointed my finger at him. “You are not allowed to use language like that even when it’s appropriate to the circumstances.” Paul smirked at me. “Seriously. I may feel the same way, but it doesn’t show much creativity to call him that.”

  “And what would show creativity?” Paul folded his arms.

  I opened up the bottom right drawer of my desk, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Paul.

  Paul read the title. “Shakespeare Insult Kit.”

  “It’s from MIT,” I said. “It’s probably the only thing I’d understand that was made at MIT.”

  Paul read: “‘To create a Shakespeare insult combine one word from each of the three columns.’” He looked up at me and I pointed at the sheet. He studied the lists. “Fine. Dad is a dankish, bat-fowling maggot-pie.”

  I swept my arms wide. “There. Doesn’t that sound so much better? It’s creative, descriptive, and makes you sound intelligent. All things the word ‘asshole’ does not.” I sat forward in my chair. “I have some pocket-sized versions being copied as we speak. I'll laminate one for you.”

  “You’re so weird,” Paul said. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket. “Most parents would just yell at their kid to never talk like that.”

  “You should always give a suggestion when you make a criticism. That’s what a good editor does. And my best parenting is based on editing. And the writings of Stephen King.”

  “Whatever. So can I go?”

  I looked at him for a minute. I didn’t know if I should talk to him about John or if I should just let it go. I never knew if I should talk to him about his dad. Would it help to talk about his feelings, or would it be better to let him figure it out on his own? My ex-therapist had told me that each situation was different, and I had to go with my gut. I decided my gut had systemic exertion intolerance disease because it was tired and telling me nothing.

  “Do you want to talk about your dad being bat-fowling?”

  Paul looked at me. Then he glanced at the industrial carpet. Then back at me. “It’s not the same now.”

  I thought I knew what he meant, but I also knew he needed to talk. Maybe my gut was working after all. “What do you mean?”

  “He had an affair.”

  “That hasn't changed.”

  “It didn’t hit me until this year.” He gave me a crooked grin. “Maybe I’m maturing.”

  I grinned back. “You’re doing magnificently well for a mangled, tickle-brained hugger-mugger.”

  Paul laughed. “Hugger-mugger?”

  “That's my favorite,” I said. “No matter how mature and tall you get, you will always be my hugger-mugger.” I hoped he knew how much I loved him. “But what does maturing have to do with it?”

  “I know what it means to have an affair, Mom.”

  I inhaled sharply. “And what does it mean?”

  Paul looked away. “He cheated on you. You were married and he started seeing someone else.” He glanced at me. “That’s not cool, Mom. It wasn’t cool when Ella cheated on Brian and they’re just my friends in high school. When I saw how hurt Brian was, I realized what Dad had done. He dated someone while he was married. That’s just not cool.”

  Brian was one of Paul’s best friends. They’d known each other since they were both in the same kindergarten class. I became good friends with Brian’s mom, Megan, because of their friendship. She’d stayed by me while I was trying to figure out what was happening in my life. She sided with me and knew when John’s name couldn't be used and called him Jackass instead. During all of this, Paul and Brian became even better friends. I was pretty sure Paul turned to Brian almost as often as I’d turned to Megan. I hoped they used better language than we did.

  Brian had been pretty sure he and Ella were the real thing. She became a fixture at our house just as much as Brian had. They had bee
n a cute couple, and I envied them at times even though I knew young love usually doesn’t last. But, then again, my “adult” love hadn't lasted very long, so what did I know? Paul accepted them as a couple and didn’t care that his friendship with Brian had another person in it.

  Then, when Ella met a college guy and became stupid, it all fell apart. Brian was crushed and Paul was angry. Ella tried to apologize, but Brian stayed away. He hung out with Paul and their friends. Ella was essentially ostracized. I encouraged Paul to talk to her, but his friendship had never been with her. He said he’d say hi when he saw her, but that was it.

  It was about this time that Paul told me he hated his dad and never wanted to see him again. I’d been busy trying to mend broken teen hearts and answer impossible existential questions, so he caught me off guard. He hadn’t been spending nights at John’s since high school started, but he’d occasionally go over for dinner. Then he just stopped and wouldn’t talk to me about it. Now I had papers to correct and a deli to yell at, but he was opening up so all that went on hold.

  “So, you don’t want to talk to him because you realized what he did?”

  Paul nodded.

  When John left, all I wanted was for everyone to realize what a maggot-pie he was. Now that Paul was realizing it, it broke my heart. “But how he’s treated you hasn't changed. He’s been a good dad to you. I’d say he’s even been a better one since he married Trudy.” It killed me to say that. I’d spent ten years of my life trying to make a good family with John, but I never seemed to be able to do it. Then he had an affair with Trudy and seemed to changed. I couldn’t understand why. It hurt. I think him becoming a better dad with Trudy hurt me more than the affair.

  “It’s not just a mistake, Mom. A mistake is spilling some milk or breaking a glass. He got naked and had sex with Trudy.” He paused and looked at me to see if I would react. I kept my face frozen. I talked to my boys about sex often enough that we could converse freely on the subject, but talking about Paul’s dad sleeping with Trudy was not comfortable. “I may not be all that experienced.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “You can let out that breath now.” I forced a smile. “But I know enough to know it’s not like you slip on a banana peel and ‘oops’ you’re having sex.”

  “That's a relief,” I said.

  Paul picked up a pencil from my desk and tapped it on his leg. “You know what I mean. If I can stop when I don’t want to, then so could Dad. He didn’t want to stop, so he didn’t. He didn’t think of you or me or Tyler, and James wasn’t even born yet. He only thought of himself. How can I trust him knowing he didn’t care about me?”

  I couldn’t believe I had to figure out another way to defend John. Anger flooded over me. I had to push it down and answer. I swallowed and stuck to what I knew and still trusted about John.

  “He loves you. He has always loved you. I honestly don’t think he thought about the affect it would have on you and your brothers. He was angry with me, not you. He was looking for someone to replace me, not you.” I didn't know if I'd crossed a line with that one, but I was trying to defuse the situation. I hoped I wasn’t making it worse. “He has always loved you and your brothers. He was plainly confused about what makes a person happy. He thought he needed to look for someone else. But you and I know that we have to be happy ourselves. No one can bring us happiness. You should be glad you have a leg up on him and you’re only seventeen.”

  “You honestly think he didn't know he was destroying our family?” He tapped the pencil on his leg harder.

  “I don’t think he was thinking about that at the time.”

  “What could he have been thinking about?”

  “You’re going to give yourself welts if you keep hitting yourself that hard,” I said. Paul stopped. He tapped it on my desk instead. I closed my eyes. The sound aggravated me, but at least it wouldn't leave any physical marks. “To be completely honest, I don't think he was thinking with his head.” Paul rolled his eyes at me. “At the same time, I think he was trying to make himself happy and this is what he decided would do it. He wasn’t as involved a father as he tries to be now. I think the idea of losing his family brought it all to the front and he woke up.”

  “Then why did he marry Trudy?” He stopped banging the pencil on the desk and started chewing on the eraser. I wished I had a fidget spinner.

  “You’ll have to ask him,” I said.

  Paul gave me a dead stare.

  “If I were to guess,” I sighed. “I think he wanted to prove he made the right decision. And maybe he felt happier with her.”

  Paul snorted. “I guess he learned his lesson.”

  I stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Trudy left him for her physical therapist.”

  “What?” My mouth stayed open after I stopped talking.

  Paul nodded. “Yeah. Two weeks ago. She told Dad that he couldn’t support her growing needs and she needed someone who could.”

  “I thought she was doing well working at that gym.”

  “I dunno. I just know that Trudy’s been dating her physical therapist since the last time she went in for an appointment about six months ago.”

  “He must be really good at fixing her,” I said, hoping Paul didn’t add an innuendo to my words. “Your dad must be really upset.”

  Paul shrugged again. That motion was becoming irritating. “He’s been crying a lot lately. At least that’s what Tyler said. I guess he hangs onto James all the time and mumbles about his sweet little family or something. I dunno. But I have even less desire to talk to him with that going on.”

  “Maybe your dad needs you more than ever.” I should win an Academy Award for the straight face I was keeping during this. Inside I was doing a merry jig. I was whooping and yelling, and I hoped I could keep my scream of vindication within myself until Paul left.

  I didn’t hate John completely anymore. It had been so long it was more of a dull feeling toward him. I was glad when he worked with me when it came to the children, and I was angry when he was pig-headed. Besides that, I did my best not to think about him.

  The whole thing had taken up too much of my life already. Cleo, Trudy’s ex-husband, had worked with John. We all became good friends until I noticed Trudy paid a little too much attention to John. I told her how I felt and asked her to take a step back, but she refused. She told me she was friends with John, and if he and I were having issues, that was our problem. I tried to get John to do less with them, but he’d invite them over without telling me. When I complained to John, he would shrug it off or turn it around on me; tell me it was all my imagination. I would get so confused. Sometimes I believed him and told myself it was my imagination.

  I found out I was pregnant with James the same week I found out John and Trudy were having an affair. John accused me of knowing about the affair and getting pregnant on purpose. I asked him on what planet did that sound like a good plan then asked if I needed to get tested for STIs.

  Looking back, I don’t know how I got through that pregnancy. I’d enrolled in an online school to get my teaching certificate. A month before James was born, John and Trudy eloped in Vegas. I felt like the biggest loser in the world until my teaching license arrived in the mail. Then I felt my back grow stronger. I stood taller. I no longer answered questions John should know about his children. If he needed something, he had to figure it out for himself. He could figure out all the schedules and clothes sizes and places the kids needed to go on his own just like I had.

  Instead, Trudy had swept in and taken over. She decided she was going to be the perfect mom. She made cookies with Paul and Tyler and had them bring me some. She watched as I had to happily accept what my boys had made me with her. When James began sleeping through the night, John demanded James spend the nights when Paul and Tyler did. Whenever John brought the boys back after that, Trudy would carry James to me. I hated her more than John. I can’t explain why. John was the one who vowed to love me forever and to forsake all others. John ha
d fallen for another woman, but I felt like Trudy had taken my boys out of spite. I don’t know if she was jealous of what I had or if she was just a maggot-eating bitch. Whatever it was, she was about to be out of my boy's lives forever. A warm feeling spread through my body. I had thought I didn’t care about her relationship with John anymore, but it sure did feel good to have John experience some of what I did.

  And now I was trying to tell my son to be kind to his fart-making father. Sometimes getting what you want comes with strings.

  “Why do I care if Dad needs me now? He didn’t care if you needed him when he left you. I remember you asking him to pay for half of my running clubs and he said no, because he hadn’t met the coach. You knew it was the one thing I loved, and you wanted to keep me in it. He just cared about money and Trudy.”

  I couldn’t argue. I was reasonably certain I had complained about this a few times in front of the boys.

  “People make mistakes,” I said. “I’ve made tons of mistakes. One I can think of right now is letting you hear me say things like that about your father.”

  “Why? It's true.” He shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pocket.

  “But we don’t know his side of the story. You were too young to ask, and you shouldn’t have had to ask anyhow. You were in the running clubs and you’re amazing out on that track. It’s no wonder your Dad wants to watch.”

  “He hasn’t earned it.”

  “You have to let him earn it.”

  Paul frowned at the carpet. “It's too late.”

  I put my hand on Paul’s back. “You shouldn’t let it ever be too late. One day you may make a mistake and need a reprieve. It's a lot easier asking for one when you've given them to other people.”

  “You’ve been reading too much, Mom. You’re starting to sound like the novels I have to read in English.”

  I rubbed his back and pulled him into a one-armed hug. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “Are you really going to marry Simon?”

  “Where did that come from?” I stood back and tilted my head. I wasn’t sure I liked where this question was going.