By the time they called me back, I was ready to walk back out the door, but I just took a deep breath and followed the secretary to Mr. McRae’s office. Upon entering his office, he stood up and greeted me. He was a fine southern gentleman, dressed to the tee in a three piece suit, his teeth and shoes shined. He had gray hair, but his skin was still smooth and flawless. He shook my hand and introduced himself and told me to have a seat.
His office looked as large as my living room, and it even included a fireplace. He obviously did well for himself. “So Mrs. Bishop, tell me about yourself.”
I looked at him questioningly. What did he want to know?
He smiled at me. I’m sure he could tell I was a wreck. “Let’s start with what you do professionally.”
That was easy enough. “I’m a professional photographer. But my favorite title is mom.”
He grinned and looked at my ever growing midsection. “How many children do you have?”
“Three - a boy and two girls.” I rubbed my baby. “But one has yet to make her appearance.”
“When is your due date?”
“November seventh. Hopefully sooner.”
He chuckled. “I remember those days.”
For a moment I forgot I was in a lawyer’s office. He was as pleasant as he could be. It was like talking to a friend. That was until he brought up Michael.
“Tell me how you and your husband met and about your wedding day.”
I shook my head. What an odd thing to ask. But he just kept looking at me as if he was anticipating my reply. So I told him about flight 416 and about that cold day in December so many years ago. I couldn’t help but get choked up about some of my most prized memories.
Mr. McRae was a captive audience through it all. I almost felt like I was in a therapist’s office, but then he started asking more of the kinds of questions I expected.
“How long have you been separated?”
“Since March.”
“Is he still supporting you and the children financially?”
I nodded. “He has been more than good about taking care of us that way.”
He wrote several notes in his leather pad, before he finally set down his pen and looked up at me with a smile in his eye. “So, Mrs. Bishop why do you want to file for divorce?”
I just sat there for a moment, feeling small all of a sudden, like a child. How did I put it? A well of emotion overtook me. “I don’t want to, but I just don’t feel like I have any other option at this point,” I choked out.
He handed me a tissue. I noticed the large box from which he retrieved it. I supposed this was a common occurrence in this office.
“Mrs. Bishop, is there infidelity?”
“He says no.”
“Do you believe him?”
“Yes, I think so.”
“Any abuse?”
“None at all.”
“Mrs. Bishop I’ve seen situations much worse than yours where divorce was the best solution, but yet the parties worked it out. Are you sure this is what you want.”
“Aren’t you a divorce attorney?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Yes ma’am, but I’m also a family man and I don’t take my job lightly. I need to be able to look myself in the eye in the morning. So I need to make absolutely sure this is what you want and are you sure this is what your husband wants?”
“He says he doesn’t love me and he moved out, so I would say yes, this is what he wants.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “How old is your husband?”
“He’ll be forty next month.”
He grinned. “Mrs. Bishop, why don’t we just fill out the paperwork and I’ll hold onto it until you’re sure.”
I just nodded my head yes, wondering if I was just weak, but it felt like the right thing to do. In my heart, I wasn’t ready to fully pull the trigger yet.
I got to my car and breathed a sigh of relief. Relief from what, I wasn’t sure. I was still in an unenviable position and marriage. And still very alone. Michael had been gone for three weeks. Our only communication was calls and texts; he hated things like Skype and FaceTime. I wasn’t sure why, but that was just him. And at this point, it didn’t matter, I was still talking to him as little as possible. He had no idea how much he had hurt me with his words and actions, but here I was, not even able to file for divorce.
I tried to forget about it for the afternoon as I finished birthday shopping and picking out the perfect color of paint for the nursery. The walls had been prepped and primed, so now the fun stuff was ready to begin. I had ordered the circular crib two days ago and matching dresser as well as a white chair and ottoman. I was going a little overboard, but I needed a good project, and I knew this was my last baby, so it was my last opportunity to have such a nursery. I had saved up all my photography business money for it since Michael had made good on financially supporting us. My last stop before I retrieved my kiddos was the printers to get all of my copied photos. I couldn’t wait to see this all pulled together, but first I needed to get through Mia’s party the next day.
On my way out of the printers, my phone rang. It was Michael. It was an odd time for him to call, in the middle of the day. I think he was in Ohio or maybe Iowa, I couldn’t keep track.
“Carly,” he sounded worried.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just remembered I didn’t get anything for Mia’s birthday tomorrow, would you mind?”
Really?
“Fine, but how could you forget, she’s only talked to you about it every day since you’ve been gone.”
“I know, Carly, ok. Don’t you think I feel bad about it?”
“I don’t know what you think anymore.”
“Well that makes two of us,” he said.
I had no idea what that meant. How could he not know what he thinks? But I didn’t ask him to elaborate.
“Did you have something in mind?”
“She’s been talking about an American Girl doll. Did you get her one already?”
“I thought about it, but I’ve been busy and I didn’t want to drive to Alpharetta.”
“Oh.”
“But I suppose I can. Your mom has the kids right now.”
“I don’t want to put you out.”
Really? I thought. You’ve been putting me out for the last several months.
“Its fine, I know she’d love a doll from there.”
“Carly, thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Bye.”
“Wait.”
“What?”
“Tell me what you’ve been up to?” he asked.
If only he knew. I wondered if I should tell him. Would it even faze him that I had been to a lawyer? Would he be relieved that I was the one to pull the trigger? Maybe that’s what he wanted. But as I was so unsure, I decided not to mention it.
“I’m getting ready for Mia’s birthday party.”
“Tell me something about you. All you ever talk about is the kids.”
“Ok …I’ve been doing photo sessions and working on the nursery.”
“Nursery? Did you move the kids in together?”
“Uh, no. I’m using the other bedroom.”
“My office?”
“No, your office is at your apartment. Remember several months ago when you moved out?”
Silence. I don’t know why I waited for a response, but I did.
“So you weren’t even going to ask me if that was ok?”
“Michael, you moved out. You can’t have it both ways. And even if you want to move back in someday, and if I’m amenable to that, that room is still going to be a nursery.”
“What do you mean, if you’re amenable?”
“Do you really think after everything you’ve done and said to me, all it’s going to take is you deciding to move back? This isn’t a game for me. I don’t play house. And I’m not ok being treated like this.”
Silence again. At least he wasn’t hanging up like he had been when anything he didn’t want to d
iscuss was brought up.
“The day I left … I said some things I regret.”
“Well at least I know the truth now.”
“Carly, the truth is relative.”
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. But I’m tired.”
“I know, Carly.”
“I should probably go.”
“Thank you, Carly. I’ll call you later.”
“Yeah I know.”
That man was driving me crazy. My whole drive down to Alpharetta I kept cursing him in my head. Every year he would buy the kids something special that was just from him. It was something the kids looked forward to. It was a tradition, and I didn’t want Mia to be disappointed. It was the only reason I was fighting traffic on a Friday afternoon. Ok, and maybe a part of me wanted to do it for Michael. I don’t know why because he sure didn’t deserve it.
I also thought about what he meant about regret and truth being relative. Did he just regret what he said because he sounded like a world class jerk? Or was there something more to it? I knew I wasn’t going to solve the mystery of Michael Bishop that afternoon, and I wouldn’t until he came home, if ever.
The doll was purchased and beautifully gift wrapped in the store. I snapped a picture of both the doll and the wrapped package with my phone and sent it to Michael. This way he could at least pretend with Mia he purchased it. I decided I deserved the best-wife-ever award. Maybe not after the text message that went with the pictures, but seriously I deserved to be a little snarky.
“You owe me.”
“Believe me, I know,” he replied quickly.
I hoped he did know.
Chapter 14
It was birthday party day. I couldn’t believe my baby was five. She was even up before me and jumping on my bed in her swimsuit no less. I grabbed her and pulled her back under my covers and snuggled with her. She wasn’t having it; she was way too excited. I guess I wanted to get up at six a.m. on a Saturday.
I let Mia watch cartoons on my bed while I quickly showered. I was now at the stage in my pregnancy where I felt like every day in the shower I looked down and saw a bigger belly. I was twenty-five weeks, and whereas my abdomen had definitely grown, I was just now back at my normal weight. I had lost so much at the beginning, from morning sickness, stress and illness, but I was back on track now. I just carried this little girl differently. She was all out in front, where Mia and Ashton had been more evenly distributed. So many things about this pregnancy were different, including me being alone in the shower.
I kept wondering if Michael missed me at all. Did he ever think about all the small wonderful things that made our marriage amazing, or had it really just been all for play? Did he ever wake up in the morning and forget for just a second and reach across the bed to touch me, only to find it empty? Did he miss all of my shampoo and conditioner bottles in the shower that he used to tease me about? I knew I missed his single, solitary blue bottle and his green bar of soap. I missed his razor too; my legs hadn’t felt the same since he left. I guess I could just buy one of my own, but it wouldn’t be as fun as using his because who would complain?
I got out of the shower and looked at our dual sink counter top; it was still half empty. Just to try it on for size, I placed my lotion bottle on his side. I stepped back, wrapped in my towel, to see how it felt. It looked lonely, so I shifted some candles that way. I left them there as I continued to get dressed and put together for the day, but then they began to bug me, so I started rearranging the whole countertop. In the end, it pretty much looked just like it had to start. The left side was bare, and my side was just more organized. I shook my head at myself and walked back into my bedroom.
My new five-year-old, in her bright pink swimming suit, was lying on her tummy with her head propped up on her hands, singing along with the characters on T.V. I just shook my head and laughed at her. She was the cutest thing ever. I had to snap a couple of pictures of her on my phone.
I wondered if Michael was up yet. I kept forgetting which time zone he was in. Regardless, I decided to text him one of the pictures. What could be better than waking up to that sweet face?
He must have been awake already because within seconds my phone rang.
“Hey,” I said.
“Good morning. You’re up early,” he replied.
“Well, as you can see, I had a little encouragement there.”
“Let me talk to her.”
I handed the phone over to our five-year-old. She was more than happy to talk to her daddy. She told him everything we had planned, from making butterfly masks, to the piñata, to swimming, and of course cake and ice cream. Her Mimi was even making homemade peach ice cream for the occasion. She told him about each one of her ten friends that were coming, and she did it all in about one minute flat. The girl had a gift.
She handed the phone back to me. “Did you get all of that?” I asked.
He laughed. “I think so.”
“Ok. Well, have a good day.”
“Carly, wait.”
I paused.
“Why are you always in such a hurry to get off the phone with me?”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“I miss talking to you.”
I sat down on my bed, out of shock. Did he say he missed something about me? “Ok. I’m listening.”
He cleared his throat, almost as if he was nervous. “I got an exclusive interview with Joseph Xavier on Monday.”
Joseph Xavier was the Republican nominee for President.
“Wow. That’s a big deal.”
“Thanks. Have you read any of the articles I’ve written about his campaign?”
Of course he would ask that.
“Uh. Well … No.”
“Oh … ”
Should I offer to read them? I thought. Was I bad person for not reading them?
“I think you would like him,” he said.
I laughed. “I guess that means you don’t.”
Michael and I had rarely agreed about anything political. Most of our marriage we had either stayed away from the subject or agreed to disagree.
“I have to remain unbiased, remember?”
“Ok. Sure.”
One thing he wasn’t, and that was unbiased. Of course, because of journalistic integrity, you would never know which way he leaned, but Michael had an opinion on everything.
“Anyway, if you get a chance, maybe you could read my articles. I would be interested in your thoughts.”
“I’ll try and read them tonight, after today’s craziness.”
Why was I such a sucker for him? I was doing so well being an inattentive wife, almost as good as him being an inattentive husband. But he sounded happy about my agreeing to read his stuff. “I’m looking forward to talking to you about my articles tonight,” he said. Which meant I was really going to have to read them.
“Will you please take some pictures of the party and of Mia opening her doll?” he asked before I could hang up.
If I wasn’t mistaken I could hear regret in his voice over missing Mia’s big day.
I wasn’t sure what to think of him after that call, but I didn’t have time to think about it. I had to put the final touches on the goody bags and commence all the other Saturday chores, like laundry and bathroom cleaning. While scrubbing the toilet, I felt a wave of resentment thinking about him living in a hotel room with maid and room service, but then my rug rats called out, “Mommy.” That made it all worth it, right? Without a doubt, yes.
We ended up leaving for my in-laws early; Mia couldn’t contain her excitement, Mimi and Papa were more than happy to have them over, and I was more than happy to have the adult company. I couldn’t say it enough, my in-laws were saints, and I would be forever grateful to them.
When we arrived, Jack came out immediately and helped me carry in the myriads of boxes and bags that contained all of Mia’s birthday presents and decorations. Jack had taken it upon himself to be the surrogate in his son’s absence
. I knew he wasn’t pleased with Michael, and from what I could gather, they weren’t really taking to one another. I hated to see that happen, but I think Jack was missing his son and the relationship they used to have. It wasn’t just me Michael had cut himself off from. Many times, in the past summers, Jack and Michael would take a Saturday to fish or catch a Braves game or just mess around in Jack’s shop. I wasn’t ever sure what truly went on in there, but it was male bonding at its finest.
Thankfully, Jack was now doing the same things with Ashton. In so many ways, it did my heart good to see Ashton so happy with his grandfather, but there was always a little ache in my heart because it should have been his father or, better yet, the three of them together. It should have been Michael with Ashton when he caught his first fish this summer or when he built his first birdhouse. Michael should be playing catch and wrestling on the floor and teaching Ashton how to whistle. Jack thought so too, and I don’t think he kept it to himself.
Jack and Danielle were trying to stay out of my marriage, but Jack always asked me if I had talked to Michael. I think he figured as long as we were talking, there was still hope. On several occasions, Jack expressed how he hoped Michael would be smart enough not to let me go. And like me, he couldn’t wrap his head around his son’s confusing and sometimes juvenile behavior.
Today, though, we were all smiles for Mia and her big day. There would be no talk of absent fathers and husbands. No talk of how much I hated doing all of this without him and how I felt so empty. I would, yet again, rise to the occasion and fake my way through it until I actually felt happy. I would remind myself over and over again that I could do it and that this was my reality. There was no sense in crying over it, at least not in public.
We spent the remainder of the morning making the pool area look like a butterfly palooza and finishing up the food for the party. By one p.m., our guests began to arrive and Ashton and Jack disappeared into the wild blue yonder. Jack was going to give Ashton his first golf lesson.
The Girl in Seat 24B Page 12