by Kelly Myers
Chapter Nineteen
Amy doesn’t come to school Monday. Coward that I am, I’m relieved at her absence.
I’m worried about her, but I barely slept a wink the night before. I’m not up to a confrontation.
When I first notice she’s missing from the afternoon class, I feel a wave of panic. What if my actions have driven them to transfer schools? I would feel so bad if I’m the reason students have to go to a new school. Amy has friends here. She’s doing well. I can’t be the one to wreck all that.
I force myself to calm down and just get through the day. Missing one day does not mean a transfer is imminent. It just means that Amy needed some time to digest whatever she and her father spoke about over the weekend. Which is no longer any of my business. I’ve played my destructive part in this whole saga, now I have to get off stage.
Never in a million years did I think I would end up being a Wicked Stepmother in someone’s life. Not that I’m a stepmother. Not even a Wicked Girlfriend. Even so, it’s not a nice feeling.
The worst part is, I keep thinking that maybe I could have made it work. Given time and the right way of introducing the relationship, I think I could have been a really great figure in Amy and Kate’s life. I would never try to replace their mom, but I would have been good. Supportive. I would have enjoyed it.
It’s not good to think like that though. No matter what, my suitability as a motherlike figure is rendered moot by those disastrous minutes in David’s kitchen.
I keep cursing myself for waking up. And then for going downstairs to get a drink of water. I could have just gotten some water with my hand from the sink, but no, I had to be a primadonna and go thumping through the house.
When the day draws to a close, I pack up my desk. Tomorrow, if Amy’s not here, I’ll start to get truly concerned.
I knew nothing good could ever come from dating a parent. I knew that. I said it over and over like a broken record.
And then I did it anyway. I hate everyone who ever told me to loosen up, be more impulsive, try some spontaneity. I tried something spontaneous this one time, and it all backfired.
I know I’m being unreasonable, and I don’t actually hate my friends, but for now, I just need to blow off steam by venting in my head.
Once my bag is packed, I grab my phone from my desk drawer.
It’s been on silent all day, and I check the screen to see if I have any messages. I freeze when I see there’s a new text from Logan.
I sit right back down in my chair.
I haven’t thought about Logan in days, I’ve been so preoccupied with all the David stuff. But now that I cast my mind back, I remember the email he sent a few weeks ago. I got it right before David came in for that parent-teacher conference.
I wasn’t in the mood to read or respond to it right then and there, and I totally forgot. Logan wanted to pick up his stuff, so this text is probably about that.
It’s not like me to ignore an email from Logan. Even right after the break-up, I was polite and cordial with him. Bea and Zoe told me I was being weak, and I should freeze him out and send him nasty emails, but that’s not me. Marianne understood; I had loved him. I could never mistreat someone I had once loved. No matter what he had done to me.
I meant to respond to the email and give Logan a few times he could swing by to pick up his stuff, but I kept forgetting. Then David asked me out, and my life became consumed by my hemming and hawing and obsessing over him.
I frown and start to think about Logan. For the first time in a long time, there’s no gut-wrenching pain. I don’t feel the loss. I just feel reflective.
I cast my mind back to when we first met. Our first few dates. Was I ever obsessed with Logan? Yes, I liked him, and I was excited about him. He was nice and kind and cute, and we shared the same values. We liked the same music and movies, and we both loved the same pizza restaurant. He was peaceful. We didn’t bicker. There was no drama with Logan.
But was I ever obsessed? Did my knees ever shake at his kiss? Did my stomach ever flip in somersaults at the mere thought of him? Was I ever so smitten that I couldn’t get through a day without thinking of him? Did I ever spend hours going through every detail of a conversation?
No. Logan made me feel safe, and at the time, I thought that was far better than all the giddy roller-coaster of emotions.
So of course, I fell in love with him. And I know that love is real.
Of course, as Zoe once put it, I could fall in love with a broom in a plaid shirt. I love it easily. As soon as I felt safe with Logan, I let myself fall.
I thought Logan was the type of guy who would never hurt me. And he ended up yanking my heart out and ripping it to shreds.
When I met David, I knew he was the type of guy who could hurt me. I knew he was trouble. I knew it was dangerous how drawn I was to him. It was terrifying how obsessed I got. And now I’ve ended up hurt. Although, it wasn’t exactly David’s fault.
Still. Two very different men. Two very different reactions in me. And I’m still hurting.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I just have colossally bad luck.
A memory, sharp as a tack, hits me. Logan and I had been dating for about two years, and we were sitting in his kitchen on a weeknight, eating pasta. It was winter. I know that because it wasn’t that late, but it was pitch dark outside.
Out of the blue, Logan announced that he felt like the baseline of our relationship was “just fine.” We didn’t have drastic lows, but we didn’t have amazing highs either.
Of course, that made me tear up. No one likes to hear that her soulmate thinks she’s just “fine.”
I asked Logan what was wrong with being fine. I didn’t want horrible lows. I didn’t want to be up and down. Fine was comfortable. Fine was a speed at which you could live your whole life.
He just shrugged and told me to forget about it, it was just something he had been thinking.
I couldn’t forget about it. That comment haunted me for ages, but then time passed, and he never said it again, so I told myself it had just been a mood.
I should have been more distressed. I shouldn’t have worried that I was boring. Instead, I should have been worried that he thought I was boring when I thought he was the love of my life. If I had thought over that telling conversation more, I might not have been so blindsided by the break-up.
It doesn’t make me sad to think of the break-up. Before David, I was always regretful. I always wanted Logan back.
As for his T-shirts that still remain at my apartment, I haven’t even thought of pulling one out to sleep with since I met David.
That’s one silver lining about this whole mess with David: he managed to banish all thoughts of Logan from my head.
Maybe, if I’m going to say that everything happens for a reason, which I do believe, this is the reason I met David. He’s not the One. He’s not my soulmate. But he came into my life for the purpose of helping me feel a depth of emotion I have dodged for years. He has helped me move past Logan. I finally was brave enough to want someone else.
I furrow my brow. That doesn’t quite feel right. It’s so ridiculously unfair to David to say that his purpose in my life has anything to do with Logan. He feels so separate. David never felt like a rebound or a way to get a break-up out of my system. He was always his own entity.
To say that David only came into my life to help me get over Logan. Well. It doesn’t begin to do David justice. I hate even connecting the two men in my mind.
Logan broke my heart because he was too scared of confrontation to tell me he was feeling unsatisfied and restless with me until the very last minute.
David broke my heart because he is a good father with other responsibilities. There’s a difference.
I look back at my phone, and suddenly a text message from Logan isn’t all that terrifying. What can he do or say to me that hasn’t already been done?
I open the text, and it’s a let down.
Can we meet soon? I want to talk.
I roll my eyes. This is new. Over the last six months, he met with me a few weeks after the break-up, but that was at my request. I wanted closure. I didn’t get it. In fact, his lackluster answers and his clear discomfort at looking at my weepy face over coffee made me think that closure might not even exist.
Logan has only reached out with requests for me to stop using his Netflix account (I honestly forgot I was auto-signed into his on my computer) and to pick up some stuff. He has never wanted to talk.
I shove my phone in my purse and head for the door. I’ll respond later, but I don’t really have time for Logan right now. I may have ruined a twelve-year-old girl’s life this weekend, so clearly I’ve got bigger issues than my ex.
Besides, I know Logan is dating someone new. My friends told me to block him on all social media, but that felt so immature. Like something a high schooler would do. We parted on mostly good terms.
And, maybe I have a streak of masochism because seeing some of his posts have been about as pleasant as getting my nails yanked out one by one.
The worst, by far, have been the posts about his new girlfriend. I’m not sure if they are official as he has never used the term “girlfriend,” but she looks pretty official to me. They took a cute photo by the river a few months ago. Then there was the long weekend trip to go hiking. And most recently, they were toasting cocktails to the nicer weather.
If it looks like a girlfriend and talks like a girlfriend, I call it a girlfriend.
I’m not as bothered now. He’s moved on. That’s fine. I almost moved on.
I wince as I walk down the street. I really could have been happy with David, but it was always a one in a million chance. Things were so complicated, and there were so many factors. At least it blew up in my face sooner rather than later.
Either way, I can’t imagine what Logan wants to talk about since he has clearly found someone a lot less complicated than David.
I’ll respond to Logan later. Once I’ve processed what happened with David, and once I’ve stopped panicking about Amy’s mental state.
Then I’ll deal with whatever my ex wants.
Chapter Twenty
By the time I get back to my apartment, I’ve received another text from Beatrice. She announces in our friend group chat that she doesn’t care if I think I need more time, she’s swinging by my apartment this evening no matter what, and I can’t stop her. Marianne has a rehearsal, and Zoe has to stay late at work, so they both applaud Beatrice’s decision and text that they will be with me in spirit.
I’m happy to see Beatrice. I do feel like I could use some more time to work out things, but I have to admit, talking to myself is getting old.
I’m glad it’s Bea too. Marianne wouldn’t understand the gravity of Amy discovering me in the kitchen. To Marianne, all kids under the age of fifteen aren’t interesting. She thinks their brains aren’t complete, and she would probably try to argue that Amy won’t even remember seeing me in the kitchen by next week.
Zoe would agree that the turn of events is catastrophic, but she would be all doom and gloom about it. She would be too blunt.
Beatrice may make light of the situation, but at least I can count on her to make a joke or two. And, after the day I’ve had, I’m sorely in need of a laugh.
I’ve only been home for about five minutes when Bea texts me that she’s outside. I buzz her up, and she appears outside my door in a matter of seconds, not even winded from running up the stairs. Bea loves cardio exercise. As for me, no matter that I walk up those stairs every day, I’m always huffing and puffing by the top.
“You look wrecked,” Bea says.
I open the door wide, and she strides into my apartment. I touch my hand to my hair and look down at my outfit of a plaid skirt and a white blouse. It’s simple, but it’s together. I actually was proud of myself this morning for not looking like a total mess.
“Your outfit is adorable as always.” Bea tosses her bag on my bed before sitting down and lending back on her hands. “But you look like you haven’t slept in days.”
I sigh and sit down beside her, my shoulders slumped. “Pretty much. I was running on caffeine all day today.”
“How was teaching Amy?” Bea’s eyes, usually so sharp and mischievous, soften as she takes in my dejected posture.
“She didn’t show today.” I blink back my tears. “I feel so awful. If I’d only been a little more careful at David’s, she would never have seen me. I’ve traumatized her for life.”
“Ok, first of all, the girl has lost her mother, so she’s survived a bigger trauma than seeing you without pants.” Bea sits up straight and holds up her pointer finger. “Second of all, it’s not your fault. David invited you over. You were just getting some water.”
I shrug. “I just keep seeing her shocked little face. I was her favorite teacher, and I hopped right in bed with her hot dad. You’re telling me that’s not going to stick with her for the rest of her life?”
“Well, I have daddy issues too.” Bea smirks and nudges my shoulder with hers. “And it’s what makes me interesting.”
I laugh. Leave it to Bea to be able to joke about her dad walking out on her when she was a baby.
Bea takes her hand in mine and furrows her brow. “It was bad, though, huh?”
“It was dreadful.” I look up at her and shake my head. “I could tell just by David’s face that Amy was so not ready to know about us dating, and it was like things were going well for one second and we messed them up. As if the universe was telling us, no way, we were not supposed to even try.”
Bea winces in commiseration. “Please tell me that T-shirt was at least long enough to cover you?”
“Yes, thankfully.” I twist my mouth into a wry grin. “It covered most of my thighs, but still, it had the name of David’s Med school across the front. And of course it was one in the morning. There was literally no excuse I could come up with.”
“You could have said the school board is enacting teacher check-ins to ensure homework is getting done,” Bea jokes. “Kids are gullible.”
I laugh despite myself. “Not that gullible, trust me.”
“It is a little funny.” Bea flashes me a grin. “It’s almost like something out of a sitcom.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I shrug. “Ask me in a few years, and maybe I’ll find it a little more funny.”
Bea’s face grows serious as she regards me. I try to cheer up a bit for her sake. I’m aware that I’ve been Miss Mopy for half a year, and I want that to end. I don’t want to be a depressing friend anymore.
“Are you hungry?” I ask. “I was going to treat myself by ordering in. Burgers sound good?”
Bea readily agrees, but she keeps a wary eye on me. She can see right through my false cheer, but I chatter away about menu options and place the order anyway.
While we wait, Bea kicks off her shoes and gets comfortable on my bed.
“So.” Bea leans forward and forces me to meet her eyes. “What are you going to do about David?”
I gape at her for a second. “Nothing. Bea, there’s nothing I can do. I have to just forget about it and somehow get through the rest of this school year.”
“I get that he’s complicated, but that’s not always a bad thing.” Bea purses her lips. “In fact, sometimes complicated just means he’s worth going the extra mile for.”
I cock my head and try to soften my voice. I don’t want to argue with her. “You and Zach were complicated. Me and David – we’re impossible.”
“Why?” Bea crosses her arms and her face settles into a stubborn expression. “He’s older than you, but that just means he’s more mature. He knows what he wants, and it seems like he wants you. And you clearly have strong feelings for him or else you wouldn’t be this upset.”
“You’re right.” I lean back against my pillow, and Bea jolts her head back at my quick agreement. I smile at her expression. “You are. I have strong feelings, and that’s why I chose to go on that second da
te with him despite my reservations.”
“So why not give it another try? Just one more shot?”
“I want to.” I look down at my hands, clenched in my lap. “Seriously, I really want to. But he’s a father. His daughters have to take priority.”
Beatrice furrows her brow. I don’t blame her for being confused. My friends and I don’t have kids, but I spend all day with children. For Bea and Marianne and Zoe, children are just vague concepts. Something for the future. I understand children as a reality, even if I don’t have any of my own.
“David and I as a couple, we make Amy uncomfortable,” I say. “If she hadn’t caught me in the kitchen, we could have put off that issue for a few months while we tried to see if a relationship between us would even last. But now that we know, there’s no point in trying.”
Bea opens her mouth to interrupt, but I hold up my hand and continue. “I’m not saying that to be a pessimist. David will always choose his daughter’s happiness over his or mine, and that’s a good thing. That’s how it should be. That’s what makes him a good father. And to ask him to be with me – that would be asking him to set aside Amy’s wellbeing, and I would never do that to him. He would never do that. If he was the type of father who would do that, then he wouldn’t be David.”
Bea looks saddened by my words, but I can tell she understands.
We sit in silence for a while, and then Bea takes my hand again. “I don’t really know David, but he sounds amazing. And I think you really deserved a guy like that. We all wanted that for you, that’s why we’ve been so gung-ho about the David Train.”
I smile and nod. I know my friends’ enthusiasm came from a place of love. “I wanted it too.”
The food arrives, and we yank ourselves out of our melancholy funk to dig into our dinner.
I tell Bea about my silver lining theory that at least David came into my life and helped me to get over Logan. She’s also not into it.
“You didn’t need David to get over Logan,” Bea says. “You just needed to realize that Logan was as interesting as vanilla ice cream.”