“Yes, I’m sure I can. Thank you, Molly,” Stephanie said, tears welling. She hugged Molly, saying softly in her ear, “I do love you. Now, go find someone who deserves you.”
Molly squeezed Stephanie tightly, whispering low, “Save your family, Steph, for both of us.”
Stephanie watched as Molly Kincaid walked out of her life, again. This time the parting was bittersweet for both of them. Stephanie couldn’t help but think about the road not taken. What would her life have been like had she been able to love Molly enough? Stephanie gave her heart to someone else, but the sexy lawyer strolling confidently out the door would always have a special place there, saved just for her.
The moment passed, Stephanie turned her attention back to Mo. Molly’s scolding left its mark on Mo’s expression. Some of the wind had been knocked out of her sails. She couldn’t make eye contact with Stephanie. The other lobby occupants, who had been eavesdropping on the confrontation, returned to their previous pursuits. Debra and Randy looked on, anticipating the next segment of the drama. Stephanie was tired. Her head was beginning to throb and her stomach to sour. She’d had enough excitement for one evening.
“Mo, I’m going to fill out this paperwork. Then I want to see our son and take him home. I don’t much care what you do, at the moment.”
“Well, I do.”
Stephanie was startled by Colt’s voice. A nurse was pushing his wheelchair through the double doors, his right leg in a cast to his knee. Stephanie rushed to him, well as fast as she could, slipping and sliding on the too tall heels. After two steps, Randy grabbed her elbow and helped her the rest of the way. She held on to the arm of the wheelchair and squatted down in front of Colt, which wasn’t easy in that dress, not to mention the shoes.
“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry they couldn’t reach me. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Colt barked, “or I will be after physical therapy.” He wasn’t finished. “I’m not going home with you. I’m going with Grandma. I’m not coming home until you and Mo get your shit together.”
Mo stepped in. “Hey, watch your mouth.”
Colt must have been on painkillers. Stephanie was sure of it when he spat back at Mo, “Hey, don’t cheat on my mother!”
Randy took charge. “Okay, big man, let’s get you in the car.”
He rounded the back of the wheelchair, relieving the stupefied nurse of her charge, and wheeled Colt away from his equally stunned parents. Stephanie’s mother patted her on the shoulder.
“He’ll be all right.” Debra turned to Mo. “I’ve never been involved in your relationship with my daughter other than to approve. I love you as if you were my own, but you’ve made a mess here and I think it’s high time you clean it up.” She kissed them both on the cheek and followed Randy out the door.
After a moment of dazed silence, Stephanie dug in her small clutch for her ID and cell. She stored all their information on her phone, including scans of important things like Colt’s insurance cards. For once, she was glad she was so organized and prepared for the worst. Mo leaned against the wall, while Stephanie gave the intake people Colt’s information, signed some papers, and forked over a credit card number for the deductible. As she prepared to leave, the bureaucratic nonsense or the coming hangover got the best of her. Stephanie removed her shoes before standing up from the little cubicle chair. She was sure she was going to want to make this exit one to remember.
“Just so you know,” she began to the woman behind the Plexiglas, “that’s my wife over there, Colton’s other parent. She was here the day he was born in this very hospital. She cut the cord that separated him from me. She has raised him for almost sixteen years. She could have very easily taken care of all of this, hours ago, but this backward-ass-society-take on who is and isn’t legally a parent, prevents her from doing that without a handful of documents. Pedophiles who abuse their own children have more parental rights than she does. I don’t think that’s fair, do you?”
The surprised clerk stuttered out, “No ma’am, I don’t.”
Stephanie had drawn a crowd of clerks and nurses with her outburst. She looked at their astonished faces. Her reply was simple, direct, and aimed at all of them.
“Good. Then think about that the next time you’re asked to vote away our civil rights.”
There was sporadic clapping from some of the onlookers. She even heard a “You go, girl,” from the drunk hooker in the corner. Stephanie passed the grinning Mo on the way out of the emergency room. Mo may have thought things were looking up in her battle to win Stephanie’s forgiveness. Stephanie thought the one thing had nothing to do with the other. She charged out of the emergency room ahead of Mo, but stopped halfway across the ambulance bay.
She mumbled to herself, “When you’re trying to make a dramatic exit, Steph, you should at least know where the car is parked.”
#
The drive home was more than silent. The air was so heavy Stephanie rolled her window down a few inches, trying to clear her head. She could not look at Mo. Stephanie didn’t have the energy left to deal with any more drama this evening. She wanted out of these clothes and into her bed, alone. Mo’s sleeping arrangements had not been discussed. They barely said two sentences to each other in the parking lot and after the doors closed on the car, not a word had been spoken. Stephanie thought she’d made it quite clear, Mo was not welcome at home, but she had already been there. Stephanie didn’t know if Mo had a hotel room. What she did know was Mo was not sleeping in her bed.
Stephanie entered the house through the kitchen door, leaving Mo in the garage. She closed the door behind her, not wanting to leave an implied invitation to enter. It was of no concern to Stephanie if Mo followed her or not. She stopped to take one of Colt’s sports drinks from the refrigerator, in an effort to stave off the hangover she knew was coming. The back door opened and closed without Stephanie turning to see Mo enter. Striding out of the kitchen, shoes, purse, and drink in hand, Stephanie crossed the dining room and was halfway up the stairs when Mo called out to her.
“Stephanie, you’re going to have to speak to me eventually.”
Her foot poised to take the next step, Stephanie stopped. She didn’t turn around. Her bedroom door was less than ten feet away. If she could just get there and lay her tired body down, she could forget about all this for a few hours.
Stephanie kept her eyes on the door and calmly said into the air, “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Right now, I’m going to go to bed and pray for a few hours of feeling nothing. I’ve had enough of this roller coaster today.”
She didn’t wait to hear Mo’s response, if there was one. Stephanie shut and locked her bedroom door, just for peace of mind. She threw the shoes toward the closet door, set the drink on the bedside table, and then slipped out of the dress. The old Stephanie would have taken care to hang it up. The new Steph let it hit the floor, just before she turned out the lights and climbed into bed. Tomorrow things would be said and feelings would be hurt, but now she closed her eyes and dreamed of dancing. Tomorrow was another day.
CHAPTER TWELVE
It’s common knowledge that if you want sleeping people to rise, all one needs do is cook bacon. The aroma filled Stephanie’s nostrils, pulling her up from the depths of a deep sleep. She woke in the same position, where her head hit the pillow less than seven hours ago. She’d been allowed to sleep until almost nine o’clock, but whoever was in the kitchen had deemed it necessary to wake her. Stephanie assumed her mother was downstairs making sure the combatants had a good meal before the fight began.
Seventeen years of memories tried to crowd into Stephanie’s brain, while she showered. Each snippet of their lives together wanted to weigh in on the matter at hand. There was so much going on in her head it became a jumble of noise while she brushed her teeth. She crossed to the bedside table, gulping down the warm remainder of the sports drink from last night. Between the dehydration and the low blood sugar from the alcohol, Stephanie needed the boost just to put on her
clothes. Dressed in her favorite old pair of jeans and a tee shirt, she took her phone from the clutch purse on the dresser, and started down the stairs. She was hoping to encounter her mother and a cup of coffee, before she had to face the wife.
Two steps from the bottom, Stephanie’s cellphone rang. She looked at the screen and saw her mother’s face.
She answered, “I can’t believe you called me from the kitchen. I’m almost there.”
“I’m not in the kitchen, I’m in the den,” her mother answered.
Stephanie chuckled. “Well, don’t burn the bacon.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
Stephanie stopped in the dining room. The table was set for two, orange juice poured, toast in a basket. She heard noises from the kitchen.
“Mom, you’re not at my house, are you?”
“No, honey, why would I be at your house?”
“Someone’s cooking breakfast. I thought it was you.”
Debra Austin laughed heartily. “Oh Lord, Mo is cooking? She must be desperate.”
It was well known that Mo was not a cook. She subsisted off fast food, macaroni and cheese, and Ramen noodles before she met Stephanie. She could manage a sandwich in a pinch, or soup from a can, and microwaved things were her specialty, but Mo did not cook. She would wash the dishes and help serve the meals, even chop vegetables on occasion, but culinary arts eluded her. If she was attempting to cook breakfast, Mo was desperate. At least the toast was not burned.
Stephanie headed for the den, not wanting to see Mo just yet. She whispered into the receiver, “Hang on a sec.” Once out of earshot, she asked, “How’s Colt?”
“I fed him a big breakfast about an hour ago. He’s knocked out on painkillers in the den. Do I need to take him to the orthopedist later?”
“I just woke up. I haven’t called them yet.”
“Well, Mo called this morning and said he had an appointment at one o’clock, but she didn’t say if you were coming to get him or if I should take him.”
Mo had been busy. She already made an appointment for Colt and, Stephanie realized as she looked around the room, cleaned up the den. The pile of books by Mo’s easy chair, her customary nesting place, had been removed. Only the newest magazines were in the rack by the couch. Stephanie asked repeatedly that the random objects she kept finding on the bookshelves be given permanent homes elsewhere. Those items were now absent. Everything was in its place and dusted to a sparkling shine.
Stephanie said to no one, “My Lord, how long has she been up?”
“What honey?”
“Nothing,” Stephanie answered. “I’ll pick him up at twelve-thirty.”
“Okay, I’ll feed him first so maybe he’ll be civil.”
Stephanie wrinkled her brow. “Just remind him, I am his mother and I can ground him for the rest of high school.”
Debra laughed. “You tell him that. I’m the grandmother. I’m the only one he likes right now.”
“Thanks for your support,” Stephanie said, sarcastically.
“Go eat your breakfast. I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Thanks, Mom, for everything.”
“You’re welcome. Good luck.”
Her mother hung up. Stephanie glanced around the room once more. Mo was definitely desperate. She was cleaning house and cooking. What next? Stephanie was curious to find out. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was time, no putting it off any longer. The balance of their lives together depended on what transpired over the next few days. Stephanie headed for the dining room, silently praying that she wouldn’t find out this was all just wasted time.
She whispered under her breath, “No more mistakes.”
When Stephanie rounded the corner, Mo was already seated at the table. She stood up as soon as she saw Stephanie, greeting her with a fragile smile.
“I know you like grits. I tried to make some, but I wound up with grit soup.”
Stephanie couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s okay. This looks great. Thank you.”
And it did look good. Mo had managed scrambled eggs and bacon without burning anything. She remained standing, pouring Stephanie coffee from a carafe they never used. Cream and sugar bowls that usually stayed in the china cabinet were filled and waiting by Stephanie’s cup. Mo drank her coffee black. Orange slices and strawberries dressed Stephanie’s plate. Mo had gone shopping sometime in the wee hours of the morning. She was trying very hard to please Stephanie. It tugged at Stephanie’s heartstrings, but they weren’t playing a tune yet.
“Sit. Eat,” Stephanie offered.
Mo sat down, but only stared at the food on her plate. She could tell Mo had lost weight over the last week. Once again, Stephanie was going to have to force her to eat.
“You have to eat, Mo.” Stephanie took a bite of her eggs. She chewed and swallowed. “See, it’s okay. Actually, it’s good.”
Mo smiled. “That was my second batch. I kind of browned the first ones.”
Stephanie snapped off a piece of bacon. “And the bacon is crisp.”
“I cooked the whole package. These were the pieces I could salvage.”
“Did it take a whole loaf of bread to get four pieces of toast?” Stephanie teased.
Mo visibly relaxed. Stephanie was being civil for the first time in days.
Mo leaned up and reached for her fork, answering, “It only took two tries with the toast.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, before Mo said, “I called and made an appointment with Colt’s orthopedist. It’s at one o’clock.”
“I know. I just talked to Mom. I told her I would pick him up at twelve-thirty.”
Mo wiped her mouth with her napkin and sat back. “Would you mind if I took him? I need to talk to him and apparently he has a few things he’d like to say to me.”
Stephanie put her fork down on the plate. She always took care of the doctor visits, kept up with Colt’s records, and scheduled his appointments. These activities, like cooking, were not Mo’s forte, not since the first time she slid down the wall when she took six-month-old Colt for his shots. Stephanie had the flu and couldn’t go. The doctor’s office called and asked Stephanie to pick up her wife and child. The nurses wouldn’t let Mo drive. There was no danger of needles today, so Stephanie thought it was a good idea. Their son was livid with Mo. She had a lot of explaining to do.
“That would be fine,” Stephanie said. “I’ll find your insurance cards after breakfast. I’m sorry I didn’t clean up the office.”
“I found them. I cleaned up in there this morning.”
Stephanie sipped her coffee, peering at Mo over the rim of her cup. “Did you sleep at all? I noticed you cleaned the den, too.”
“I slept some. I think it’s the jet lag. My body is confused.” Mo played with the food on her plate, before saying, “I need to know what you told him, Steph.”
The polite chat was over. Stephanie sat back from the table. “I’m sorry, Mo. It was a misunderstanding. I thought you told him to ask me about it. He was really asking about a car.”
Mo looked up from her plate. “That doesn’t matter, it’s done. I just need to know what he knows.”
“Why, so you can lie to him?”
Stephanie was surprised by her own words. She saw them hit Mo and hurt. Okay, so Stephanie’s mind was going to take over and her heart was not to be involved. New Steph was not about to sugarcoat her words or hide what she was thinking. All right, Stephanie could let her instincts take over for a while.
Mo swallowed hard, before answering, “Come on, Steph, he’s fifteen. He doesn’t need all the details. I have no intention of lying to him, but we need to agree on just how much we tell him. One day, when he’s a grown man, if he wants to know, I’ll lay it all out.”
“I told him you had an affair, not with whom or when. That’s it,” Stephanie answered.
“I’ll take responsibility. I won’t make excuses, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“There’s no excuse for what you did, Mo.”
Mo seemed resigned to her fate. “I know, Stephanie. I won’t make excuses to you either. All I can do is ask for forgiveness and pray, at this point.” Mo stood and took her plate from the table. She looked down at Stephanie. “I know I fucked up. It’ll be a miracle if I haven’t lost you already. I was sure I had when I saw you with Molly.”
The food fortified Stephanie’s anger. It was rising back to the surface. “Would that account for your asinine behavior at the hospital?”
Mo raised her voice slightly. “Yes, seeing her with you – my heart actually stopped. I felt it.”
“Good,” Stephanie said, her volume topping Mo’s. “Then you know how it feels every time I close my eyes and see you with that woman. How do you think I’m ever going to be able to get that image out of my head?”
Stephanie stood up abruptly, snatching her plate off the table. Mo reached a hand out and grasped the plate. Stephanie pulled the plate, but Mo would not let go.
“What are you doing?” Stephanie said, pulling harder. “I don’t need you to take my plate to the kitchen.”
“I thought you were going to throw it at me,” Mo said, seriously.
Stephanie yanked hard, pulling the plate away. “I’m not breaking any more dishes over you.”
The opening salvos had been fired. The battle moved into the kitchen. Stephanie banged around, cleaning her plate, putting it in the dishwasher, continuing to bring her blood to a boil. The anger itself was like a drug, taking control of her body. She had never wanted to physically hurt Mo, but in her current mood, Stephanie wanted to grab and shake her, screaming, “What were you thinking?” She didn’t. She took herself out of the room and escaped to the den.
Stephanie was alone only for a moment, when she heard Mo’s voice behind her. “Did you find anything?”
Stephanie turned to face her. “What?”
Mo moved closer. “When you were tearing through the office and the files on my computer, did you find anything that indicated I had ever been unfaithful to you, until now?”
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