Why It's Called a Goodbye

by T. M. Shivener

Me: I already blocked her number, but she has mine. I wonder how she got it. I wouldn’t think he would have given it to her if she thinks I’m the reason the divorce isn’t final.

  Inez: She probably snooped through his phone while he was sleeping or while he was taking a shower. That’s what I tell my other clients to do.

  Me: You’re horrible.

  Inez: Sometimes it’s the only way to find out answers.

  Me: I’ll let you get back to work. Let me know if you need anything.

  I message Stephen.

  Me: Please tell your plaything to leave me alone. I blocked her number, but somehow, she has my phone number now. I can’t change mine, so please tell her to leave me alone.

  Stephen calls instead of messaging. I answer, “I’m not going to argue about this. Please just tell her to not bother me.”

  “I will, Addy. I’m not sure how she got your number. I didn’t give it to her. I swear.”

  I dig in the kitchen cabinet looking for something to eat. “I didn’t think you did, but she has it just the same.”

  “I’ll talk to her.”

  I finally find the peanut butter, and I grab a spoon from the drawer. “I would have hoped you’d make better choices in who you chose to be with. She sounds very childish over the phone, begging me to sign the divorce papers, so you two can get married.”

  He protests, “I’m not going to marry her.”

  “I don’t care who you do or don’t marry, but you could agree to the terms of the divorce decree, which in all fairness, I didn’t ask for much.” Inez says I’ve been very generous, and if he doesn’t sign them soon, I’m going to take him for everything he has just for spite.

  “I know you didn’t. I just… does it have to end this way, Addy?”

  “I’m sorry, Stephen, but I don’t love you anymore. I don’t want to be with you and be miserable for the rest of my life.” I open the peanut butter and scoop out a spoon full and shove it in my mouth.

  “Were you really that miserable?”

  I try to swallow all the peanut butter at once, but it won’t go down. I mumble, “I didn’t realize it at the time, but yes, I was.”

  “I’m sorry, Addy. For everything.” He pauses. “Do you love him?”

  “Are you asking if I love Malcom?”

  “Yes.”

  “It doesn’t much matter. Either way, we still cannot work this out. It’s just not feasible.”

  I don’t know if he hangs up or there is a spotty connection, but the line goes dead. I go back to my peanut butter.

  In a lot of ways, I’m thankful Stephen cheated. I probably wouldn’t have left had he not. And I wasn’t happy. I realize that now. Our separation has really given me time to get back to my love of writing; even if right now I’m writing sappy romance novels, it’s a step in the right direction. Our separation sent me back here, back to my roots. I’ve had more time with my parents, more time with Inez, and I’ve even made a good friend in Malcom.

  I know Malcom says he won’t take Roxi back, but Stephen would take me back. I know it’s a much different situation, but if I let our relationship go further, one day he might change his mind, and then I’ll be all alone again.

  TWENTY-TWO

  I went over to Malcom’s this evening to roll my eyes, but Elsie was home. I was actually glad because I still feel like we have some more things to talk about. I don’t have enough willpower to say no to him. Even if I did say no, my body would be angry at me. I’d be angry with me too.

  I wanted to talk to him about Roxi, but I would never do that in front of Elsie. Instead we played board games, and she told me all about her time in Florida. They didn’t go to Disney, but she had a blast. Her face lit up with every story she told me of her grandparents, and I sat and listened to her tell one story at least three times.

  After he put her to bed, I told him I needed to be heading back home as well to make sure the boys were getting ready for bed. This morning neither one of them wanted to get out of bed for school. I was late dropping them off because I couldn’t get them to move. I will not be repeating that in the morning.

  He grabs my left arm from behind me as I attempt to walk out the door and spins me around, pulling me in for a hug. He swaddles me around my shoulders, and I snuggle into his chest. I really did miss him. I begin to sniffle.

  Malcom loosens his grip and tilts my head up by my chin. “What’s the matter, Sugar Tits?”

  I laugh through the tears. “You have to quit calling me that.”

  “I will do no such thing. What’s wrong?”

  “I just missed you, I guess, and I got an awful call from Stephen’s girlfriend.”

  “She called you?”

  “Yeah, I guess it wasn’t awful. She wants to marry Stephen. She can have him. The reason I’m upset is because I wish my divorce were final so we could really try to figure out what this is we have going on. And until then, I feel like we're at a standstill, and I can’t really give you all of me, and I’m scared you’re going to find someone new in the meantime.” I snuggle back into his chest, not ready to leave yet.

  His arms find their place back around me as he kisses the top of my head. “I’m not looking for anyone else. I know our situation isn’t normal, but who the hell cares? As long as we’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

  “I’m going to try to push for it to be final before Christmas. If he doesn’t agree, Inez said to push for more money than I’m already asking for, and then he will. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want people saying I’m a gold digger. I just want to be free of him. Well, I’ll never be free of him, but you know what I mean.”

  “I’ve been trying to stay away from your battle with him. You do what you think is best for you and your boys, and fuck what everyone else thinks.”

  “I do need to go,” I say, still not wanting to leave. “I’ve also been staying away from your relationship with Roxi, but I do have questions when you’re ready.”

  “Alright. I’ll answer them on a night Elsie isn’t here.”

  This week flew by. I’ve written most of the beach novel; I’ve titled it My Summer with Nick. I’ve been doing research on Christmas recipes online. It hit me earlier today that Mom has some great recipes, and I plan to have her go step-by-step on a dessert as I take notes. That will have to wait until a later time because the boys just left with Stephen, and I promised to help Malcom with Christmas shopping.

  He’s picking me up in ten minutes, and we’re heading to the city. I dress in a pair of skinny jeans with nude-colored heeled combat boots and pull on a matching nude coat that falls to my knees. My hair is up in a ponytail. It’s cold out, and I’m not exactly sure where he wants to go shopping, but I know there are several shops within walking distance from each other, and I don’t want to freeze to death.

  He honks his horn, and I head out and get in the passenger side of his Explorer. He’s wearing khaki pants, a nice dress coat, and his black rimmed glasses. He shifts out of park and into drive.

  “Do you have anything in mind you want to get for her?” I ask. I’m not sure if he asked me to come for company or because he doesn’t know what to get her. He’s made it eight years doing this whole girl dad thing on his own, so I’d say he has it figured out by now.

  He places his right hand on my left thigh. “Yeah, um, I’ve already finished Christmas shopping for Elsie. I wanted to take you on a real date. Somewhere where people won’t talk, and you’ll be more comfortable.”

  “I thought Malcom Murray didn’t date?”

  “Did I say that? I haven’t dated in a long time. I didn’t have anyone I wanted to take on a date, until you,” he says with the voice I could fall in love with and just might let myself.

  I know I shouldn’t be so caught up in his words, but I am. He wanted to take me on a date. If he keeps saying things like that, I’ll have no choice but to fall in love with him.

  I’m overly giddy when I ask, “Where are we going?”

  He
moves his hand from my thigh, and I frown. I liked it there. I’m chewing on my left index fingernail when he grabs my wrist and interlocks our fingers together. I could certainly get used to this.

  He turns the radio on using the steering wheel to a band I’ve never heard of called The Worn Thin. He said they're a small-town group, and he really enjoys their songs. I sit and listen in silence as my mind drifts.

  We pull up in front of a restaurant that has valet parking. I am not dressed for dining in a fancy restaurant with valet parking. This isn’t my idea of comfortable.

  I’m standing in front of the entrance. “Malcom, this is too fancy.” I don’t expect extravagant dates.

  He grabs my hand and gives a gentle tug. “Come on. I read the reviews online. The food is supposed to be amazing, and you know how much I love food.”

  I think in a former life he was a food critic or a chef.

  The hostess seats us in a large booth. One big enough for at least six people. The place is packed, and it seems odd they’d give us a big booth when they could have seated us at a small, two-person table. When she walks away, I say, “I think they seated us at the wrong booth. Unless someone is meeting us?”

  “Nope, no one is meeting us. I reserved this booth. I wanted to sit next to you instead of in front of you.” We scoot to the middle of the seat.

  “Okay, now what?”

  He laughs. “Look at the menu and pick something out to eat.”

  I’ve eaten at enough fancy restaurants with Stephen to know they usually only have one or two things I like. The only time we ever went out together was for work-related parties. Usually I’d have to sit and listen to some other doctor’s wife complain about how her manicure wasn’t right or the spray tan she got was blotchy. I would have to pretend like I cared when I didn’t. He never took me out with just the two of us, not unless I begged, or he was making up for forgetting our anniversary.

  The waitress introduces herself, and I order, “I’d like a sangria for my drink, the fettuccine alfredo with shrimp and some garlic toast if you have it.” Malcom orders a beer and steak per usual. The waitress leaves, and Malcom is staring at me with his bedroom eyes. “Quit looking at me like that.”

  “Like what?” he asks.

  “Like you want to bend me over this table.”

  He squints beneath his glasses and gives a mischievous smile.

  “Stop it, Malcom. That is never going to happen.”

  He frowns. “You’re crushing my dreams, woman.”

  “Maybe one of your females will allow you to bend them over a table in the middle of a restaurant, but it won’t be me.”

  “Will you stop it with the your females? The only females who have my attention are your other personalities, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Did you call me crazy? Cause I can be crazy if you want.” I act like I’m going to jump up and cause a scene.

  He grabs my thigh. “Chill. I was joking.” He pauses and smiles again. “Kinda.”

  “Okay, I’m hard to deal with. I know I have nothing to worry about, but I can’t help it. I still worry.”

  “Well quit it. Let's talk about something that’s more important.”

  “What’s more important?” I ask. Then it clicks, we’re in a fancy restaurant, and he’s dressed up. Oh. My. God. He’s going to propose. I need to tell him you cannot ask a married woman to marry you until after she is no longer married. “Malcom, no.”

  The waitress sets our drinks in front of us and asks if we need anything else. Malcom shakes his head no making sure to not lose eye contact with me.

  “What? I was going to ask you what you got me for Christmas?”

  I shove his arm as he laughs. “Shut up. I thought you were going to… never mind. I thought we agreed to not get anything for one another?” I know we specifically had this conversation earlier this week that we weren’t buying anything for each other. I haven’t gotten him anything. “Please tell me you haven’t bought me anything.”

  “I couldn’t help it. I saw it, and I had to get it for you.”

  “But I haven’t gotten you anything, and now I’m going to have to get you something because you got me something and I have no clue what to get you,” I whine.

  “You could wrap yourself up and lie down under the tree.”

  Ha.

  “I know what I’ll get you.” I’m going to buy him all the dad gifts he probably hasn’t gotten over the years since he’s been single. He’s getting new underwear and socks! I’ll figure out something else too, but he’s definitely getting those.

  The waitress brings our food, and we begin to eat.

  What could he have possibly gotten me? We know very little about each other, and yet I feel like we’ve been together for a lifetime. I know he says he never cared about popularity back in high school, and maybe he didn’t. Maybe I was the one who couldn’t see past cliques. Most of us grow some as we age.

  After we finished our meal, Malcom ordered us two red velvet cupcakes. They came with two miniature mugs of milk. It was the best cupcake I had ever eaten. I ordered one to take home to Mom.

  We did do a little shopping after we left the restaurant. Malcom bought a candle for Angie. I bought the boys some video games he helped me pick out. We’re on our way back to Malcom’s now. He hasn’t let go of my hand the entire trip. Every few minutes he kisses the back of it, and it sends chills up my arm straight to my heart.

  He pulls into his lane. It’s close to midnight now, so we’re both tired. When we reach his house, there is a powder-blue convertible parked in his usual spot.

  “Shit. Roxanne’s here.”

  TWENTY-THREE

  What? Why would she be here? I thought she went back to Malibu. If she’s in town, shouldn’t she be hanging out with her daughter?

  “Just stay in the car, and I’ll get rid of her,” Malcom says as he exits the vehicle.

  This cannot be good. He left the car running. I push the window’s down button slightly until there is just enough of an opening for me to hear. She opens the front door and storms out after him before he gets to the steps.

  At least this time she’s wearing some pants. Although it’s like it’s one extreme or the other. Tonight, she’s entirely covered up, as if she’s about to tread through three foot of snow. There isn’t even one snowflake on the ground. Her puffy jacket and snow boots make her look like she’s a teenager.

  “What are you doing here, Roxanne?” Malcom asks. His back is to me. I cannot see his facial expressions, but I can tell by his tone that he is upset.

  Her hands are on her hips. “Trying to figure out why you pawned Elsie off with my mom.”

  “I didn’t pawn her off with Angie. Elsie wanted to spend time with her.”

  She points in my direction, and I sink into the seat. “I see her in your car, ya know.”

  “And? I’m allowed to have a life.”

  “I thought you wanted me?”

  “Cut the shit, Roxanne. You don’t want me. I’m beginning to wonder if you ever really did. Why don’t you go spend some time with your daughter while you’re in town? She misses you, you know.”

  “Uh, I was, I was on my way over there if you must know,” she barks out as she walks past him toward her car. She swings open her car door and sniffs the air. “I have a boyfriend back home anyway. I don’t need you.” And then she slams the door shut. The engine to her car roars as she reverses out of the space. If she doesn’t calm down, she’s going to wreck. I watch in the side mirror of Malcom’s car as her car swerves back and forth across the lane on her way down the road.

  I stay seated, unsure of what to do. He might want to take me home after that. She was not happy that I was with him. Malcom walks over to my side and opens the door. “What are you doing?”

  “I just thought you might want to be alone after that…”

  He moves close to me and says, “Nope. What I want is for you to come inside, and I’ll tell you all about her. That is if
you still want to know.”

  I thought he was going to try to kiss me, but he leans across me and turns the engine off.

  Of course, I want to know, but I don’t want to seem overly excited. I use one of his tactics. “Only if you want to tell me.”

  When we get in the house, I remove my coat as Malcom pours us both some kind of amber liquor on ice. I don’t know if the story of her is that bad or if he just really has a hard time talking about these things. We sit on the couch in silence. Maybe he’s waiting for me to ask a question. Where do I begin?

  “I don’t remember going to school with Roxi, but her mom lives down the road from my parents. Why don’t I remember her?”

  “They didn’t always live here. They moved here when Roxanne was thirty. I was only twenty-two when I met her. I was caught under her spell. I couldn’t believe this beautiful older woman wanted anything to do with me. I was still in college, and she said she was an interior designer. She said she lived with her mom because she was helping her mom pay bills. I believed her.”

  “Did she lie about a lot of things?” She sounds like a pathological liar. I take a tiny sip of the liquid and force myself to swallow. It’s horrible.

  “When we first met, she told me she was a recovering addict, but that she had gotten her life squared away. She was on some type of medication, and she went to meetings. I was naive, I hadn’t really been around anyone who was on drugs. My parents had really sheltered me. Anyway, she relapsed after about six months of us dating. We broke up.

  “Then she said she wanted to get clean, but she needed my help. I had no clue what I was doing. I was thinking more with my dick than my brain. I knocked her up, and while she was pregnant, she did stay clean. Mostly. Even after Elsie was born, she was clean for about a month.

  “Until one night I found her passed out when I got home from soccer practice. Elsie was in her crib crying, and she had pooped and gotten it everywhere. I have no clue how long she was passed out for before I got home, but I woke her up and kicked her out.

  “We were on a cycle of me kicking her out and her coming back for about two years of Elsie’s life until she just disappeared one day to Malibu, and now she only comes around when she feels like it. She thinks she’s doing enough as a mom.”