“The only thing I really care to talk about is our divorce being final.”
“Okay, I guess now is as good a time as any.” He lowers his voice and extends his head in my direction across the table. “Kitty’s pregnant.”
“What? Did you not use protection?” I want to ask how far along she is, but it doesn’t matter. Maybe this is why he has been all over the place recently.
“She said she was on birth control. She still swears she was, but I saw the positive pregnancy test, so she went to the doctor this week.” He reaches in the inside of his coat and pulls out some papers and lays them on the table in front of him. He begins flipping the papers and uses a pen from his breast pocket to sign pages that are flagged.
“Are those the agreement documents?” At first, I thought he might be showing me a sonogram.
“Yes, my lawyer refers to them as the settlement. I’m sure he will not be happy I’m doing this. I have agreed to let you keep the last name Ripley. I will give you four thousand a month until Sawyer and Atticus turn eighteen. I have it written that I can have them every weekend and that we will alternate holidays. You can keep the car. I’ll keep the boys on my health insurance. I will pay your health insurance until you find a job that offers you some. Are you working any, Addy?”
“I’ve been writing.” I cannot believe he is giving me everything I asked for. There has got to be a catch. Oh yeah, he knocked up his mistress. “Are you going to marry her?”
“I don’t know, Addy. It’s the right thing to do, but that’s how we got into this mess.”
“Do you love her?”
He sighs as he shoves the documents in my direction. “Not really.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I am. I’m sad for her and for him and for their baby.
Stephen and I talked for a while longer about how we were going to split holidays and how he hates being so far away from the boys. I told him I’m not moving back there.
He left to go pick the boys up, and I’m driving around town with nowhere to be. I already told the boys bye earlier. I’ve never been away from them for more than forty-eight hours at a time. I think I might cry. It’s better if I’m not there when they leave.
Before I start to cry, I call Inez. I begin talking as soon as she picks up, “You’re not going to believe this. Kitty is pregnant, so Stephen is agreeing to the divorce now.”
“No shit?”
“I know. He still didn’t actually want to get a divorce, but there is no way in hell I’m staying married to him after he knocked his mistress up.”
“Wow.”
“Anyway, he signed the papers.”
“That’s great. I know you wanted it to be final by Christmas, but with it being so close now, it probably won’t be until after the new year before it’s final.”
“That’s okay. At least now I know it’s really going to be final.”
“Have you told Mac yet?”
“No, I was thinking of surprising him for Christmas.”
“Whatever you want to do.”
“I don’t know what else to get him, and he said he got me something.”
“Ask Diego.”
“I never thought about that. I’ll see what he says. Bye. Have fun with Juliet.”
“How do you know I’m with her?”
“Who else would you be with?”
I hang up. I pull over and text Diego.
Me: Do you know what Malcom got me for Christmas? And also, do you have any idea what I could get him?
Diego: For the love of futebol, quit calling him Malcom. And it’s a secret he swore me not to tell.
Me: What should I get him?
Diego: What about the sex coupon things?
Me: Diego.
Diego: Okay. Let me think.
I look up gifts to get Malcom while I wait. There isn’t anything that stands out for me to get him, but I order Atticus a glow in the dark soccer ball.
Diego: I got nothing. Just give him the sex.
Me: Really?
Diego: I promise he won’t be disappointed.
Me: You’re really no help.
I continue my search for the perfect gift.
It’s Sunday afternoon. The house is void of noise from Sawyer and Atticus. If it weren’t for Pops yelling at the television every few minutes, I’d think I was home alone.
I wrap up the gifts I had already gotten the boys and place them under the tree.
“You make a better door than you do a window, Addy.”
I found the perfect gift online earlier for Malcom, and Inez is going to meet me in the city to pick it up. It’s on the sketchier end of town. I hope he likes it. I messaged Diego about it, and he said it was cool and wished someone were getting him one. He still wouldn’t tell me what Malcom got me.
I message Malcom.
Me: Diego wouldn’t tell me what you got me. Can I have a hint?
Malcom: That’s because I never told him what I got you. He’s horrible at keeping secrets.
Me: Horrible?
Malcom: The worst.
Shit.
Malcom: I got you an inflatable raft.
Me: How did you know that was on the top of my list this year?
Malcom: I talked to Santa!
Me: Shut up. Give me a real hint.
Malcom: It’s pink and sings Trolls Just Wanna Have Fun
Me: Malcom. I’m rolling my eyes.
Malcom: I’m not telling you.
Me: Fine. Then I’m not going to tell you what you’re getting either.
Malcom: Fine.
Me: Okay then.
Malcom: Okay then, Sugar Tits.
Me: Ugh, why can’t you be normal?
Malcom: Normal is boring.
TWENTY-SEVEN
I’m all alone in the house today. Mom and Pops are at the store. Christmas is only a few days away, and they have extended their hours until Christmas Eve. Jenkins Hardware is closed Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I tried to tell them they could make some last-minute money if they stayed open for a few hours on Christmas Eve, but they said they’ve always been closed, and they aren’t going to change it now.
I’ve finished wrapping everyone’s gifts, and they are all snug under the tree. I need to see what day we are doing Christmas at Malcom’s. My boys come back Christmas Day, and they're going to formally meet Malcom the same day I meet his parents.
I finally found some inspiration for the ending to the novel about the beach, and I get to work getting the words out of my head while they’re there. I set myself up at the kitchen table with snacks and a pot of coffee.
An hour later my phone vibrates on the table.
Malcom: Read this email I got from Angie just now.
There is a picture attached. I open it. I skim through it. It says that Roxanne has left rehab and that no one is able to get ahold of her. Angie is unable to take Elsie for Christmas Eve now because she’s scared she’s going to get a call that Roxanne is dead, and she isn’t able to deal with her right now.
Me: Wow! I’m sorry. No one can get ahold of her?
Malcom: No, Angie said that an orderly at the rehab told her Roxanne had left with another male resident. They weren’t allowed to tell her any more than that and said they were breaking HIPPA by telling her even that much.
Me: That’s crazy.
Malcom: I tried to call her, but I can’t get ahold of her either.
I don’t really know what to tell him. I’m sure nothing I say will make him feel any better.
Me: She’ll eventually need money and stuff. She’ll call her mom.
Malcom: Maybe.
Me: I wish there was something I could do.
Malcom: If you want, you can come hang out with Elsie and me. We’re having a Christmas movie marathon. But I must warn you, Elsie gets to choose what we watch.
Me: Sounds like fun. I’ll be over later.
I go back to writing. I really want to get as much out of my head as I can while the words are flow
ing. I end up writing so much I finish the new ending to the novel. I send what I have written to the editor and get ready for a sleepover at Malcom’s.
I’m on my way to his place now. Mom and Pops made it home before I left. I still cannot believe Roxanne left rehab. She must not have really cared about her sobriety. And she left with a guy. I understand where her mom is coming from, being scared a sheriff might show up to tell her that her baby is dead. Roxanne seemed too vain for that. I don’t think she’d want to die.
She really hadn’t been in there long enough to get sober. Probably hadn’t even made it out of detox. I hope for everyone’s sake she checks in with her mom or Malcom soon.
Elsie opens the door before my car is even in park. She jumps from the top step to the gravel in one leap with no coat on, and it’s freezing out. Malcom stands in the doorway smiling at us as we dance around in the porch light. “You two better get in the house. Santa doesn’t bring sick girls presents.”
Elsie stops dancing and huffs as she stomps up the steps and in the house. I follow behind. As I duck under Malcom’s arm, I say, “I didn’t ask Santa for anything anyway,” and stick my tongue out at him.
I miss when the boys would play with me. They’re too old for it now.
Malcom turns on The Grinch and Elsie and I decorate her gingerbread house on the coffee table. I squirt some green icing on the roof, and she is using a spatula to spread it out before placing red candies on top. I turn to see Malcom is smiling at us like he’s enjoying watching us get icing everywhere.
I look at Elsie and hold up the icing in my hand. “I think your dad could use some decorating.”
Malcom holds his hands up, but Elsie and I have him pinned down before he can get up. I squirt some of the green icing on his nose, and she adds a peppermint. “Look, Daddy’s Rudolph now!”
I bought her a makeup kit for Christmas, and I can’t wait to see what kind of masterpiece she makes Malcom’s face look like.
Elsie and I go back to decorating the gingerbread house as Malcom stands and answers his phone. “Hello.”
I look at him as he holds his finger up and heads out on the porch. Elsie doesn’t seem to notice. I watch through the windows as he paces back and forth on the porch nodding and shaking his head a lot. At one point his face drops, and then he talks. I can’t read his lips.
The credits for The Grinch roll across the screen, so I ask Elsie, “What do you want to watch now?”
“Christmas Vacation.”
I’m surprised by her response. “You like Christmas Vacation?”
She shrugs her shoulders as the wreath on the door to the gingerbread house falls off. “Not really, but it’s Daddy’s favorite.”
I find Christmas Vacation laying close to the television. I put it in the Blu-ray player and go in the kitchen to make drinks.
I brought over some homemade chocolate bombs my mom’s friend made us for Christmas. There are three. I search in Malcom’s fridge for milk. I pour some in a pan I found in the dishwasher and turn on the gas stove to heat it up. I find us three coffee mugs and place one bomb in each. The directions say to pour hot milk over the bomb and it will make hot chocolate.
Elsie makes her way into the kitchen and sits on one of the bar stools. She pulls one of the mugs in front of her.
“I think we should wait until your dad is finished with his…” I stop when Malcom walks back in shivering. He had been out there this entire time without a coat. He’s the one going to get sick.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks.
“Look, Daddy, Addy brought us chocolate bombs.”
“Chocolate what?”
I laugh. “It’s hot chocolate.” I can tell by his eyes as he sits down next to Elsie whatever that phone call was about, he doesn’t want to talk about it in front of her.
Malcom takes Elsie to bed after we finish drinking our hot chocolate.
I clean up the kitchen and living room, and then I head into his room to get ready for bed. I steal one of his shirts from the second dresser drawer and a pair of his boxer briefs from the top. I leave the light on and get in on the left side of his bed.
“That’s my side,” Malcom says as he stands in the doorway.
“If you want it, you’re gonna have to fight me for it.”
He crawls from the end of the bed up my body until his face is inches from mine. “I think I’ve had enough drama the last few days. I think I deserve to have something I want now.” He pulls on my hips until my torso slides under his body and my head is flat on the pillow.
I kiss his lips and then say, “Stephen signed the divorce papers. You can have me soonish if you still want me.”
He rocks his hips into mine, and I feel how much he wants me without him having to say a single word.
I gave in and let Malcom have his way with me while Elsie was here. We made sure to stay quiet, and the one time I moaned too loud Malcom shoved his thumb in my mouth to muffle it.
He’s looking at his phone, and I’m slowly drifting off to sleep when I remember I never asked what his phone call was about earlier. I roll over to face him. “Who was that on the phone earlier?”
“Roxanne.”
“Oh.” I wonder why he hadn’t let her talk to Elsie, but I’m sure he has his reasons.
“Her mom made her call me after she showed up there with her guy friend. Roxanne said she left because supposedly the counselors were fucking the patients. One of them supposedly asked her to come live with him and his wife, and he is in his sixties. I don’t know that I believe her, but that’s what she said.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah and she asked to see Elsie tomorrow. I’m dropping her off at Angie’s first thing in the morning.”
“Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t know, but if it keeps her from getting high or dying over Christmas…”
I don’t get it. I wouldn’t let the boys around Stephen like that. I think I wouldn’t anyway. I guess I’m in a similar boat with Stephen; he just doesn’t do drugs.
“Have you given any more thought about contacting a lawyer and taking her to court?”
“Maybe after Christmas,” he says, and I can tell he really isn’t in the mood to go into the subject any further.
I roll back over, and Malcom turns the light off and snuggles up against me. He pulls my back tight to his chest and lets out a deep breath.
He begins snoring before I can get my mind to shut up. It’s racing about Roxanne and how her actions are affecting Elsie’s life. It’s racing about Stephen having a baby with someone else and how Sawyer and Atticus are going to have a new sibling. It’s racing about what mine and Malcom’s next step will be after the divorce is final.
I can’t live with my parents forever. I’ve looked at a couple of homes nearby. I don’t want to move in with Malcom, and there isn’t enough space here for all of us anyway. I’ve been saving up the child support and I’ll get enough money when the divorce is final to buy a home outright.
I want the boys to want to stay with me. I may let them help me choose a house. One they like just as much as I do.
TWENTY-EIGHT
It’s Christmas Eve, and Malcom’s parents arrive tonight. He invited me over for dinner. I left this morning after we woke up; I didn’t want to be there when they arrived. I don’t know how they feel about their son being with a married woman or if they even know much about me at all. Malcom hadn’t said if he’d told them anything about me.
I know their names are Peter and Martha. I only know that because I asked Elsie before I left this morning. Malcom hadn’t talked about them much, and when he did, he always referred to them as Mom and Dad.
Elsie was sad when I left. She wanted to come with me. She said her dad was boring, and I laughed. I guess all kids feel their parents are boring. She asked if I’d be back. Her eyes dropped for a second when she asked the question like maybe she thought I might say no or that even if I said yes, I wouldn’t. But then she sm
iled and skipped to her bedroom. I’ve had an ache in my chest for her all day.
Malcom was taking her to her grandmother’s to see her mom for a few hours before picking her back up after his parents arrive. He hadn’t told her yet. He didn’t want to get her hopes up in case her mom had already left before they got there. I still do not think it’s a good idea for her to be seeing her mom just yet, but she’s not my kid, and if Malcom seems okay with it, then I’m not going to question his parenting any further.
I’m not exchanging gifts with Malcom until after they leave; he said they are staying at a bed and breakfast for the next three days. He also said he offers them his bed every time they come up, but they insist on staying at the same bed and breakfast. It must have some great amenities.
I’m staying at Malcom’s tonight to watch Elsie open her gifts in the morning, and then I’m meeting the boys at the house to bring them to meet Malcom. I cannot wait to see them. By the pictures they have been sending, I can tell that they seem to be having fun.
I check my email before I head out, and there’s one back from the publishing house saying they would like to interview me for the position after the first of the year. I’m trying to not get my hopes up, it’s just an interview. I haven’t gotten the job yet, but I do a little jump anyway.
His parents are sitting on the couch when I walk through the door. The same couch we have made love on several evenings. I want to tell them to get up because it seems dirty now and that I need to clean it. I don’t because then they’d ask why it was dirty, or they’d say it wasn’t dirty and think I’m a crazy, delusional woman.
I wave at them instead of saying hello. They’re not mute. Why am I acting so strange? I muster up a small, “Hi.”
Malcom wraps his arm around me and says, “Mom, Dad I’d like you to meet Adaline.”
His mom takes a step closer to me and says, “So you’re the girl that has my little boy smitten…” I can’t quite tell if she has skepticism in her voice or not. I mean if she thinks I’m anything like Roxi, she might not want Malcom to be smitten with me. She shakes my hand and says, “My name is Martha and that fella behind me is Peter.”
Why It's Called a Goodbye Page 17