The Girl in Seat 24B

by Jennifer Peel

  “I need a good caddy now that I’m retired,” he teased Ashton

  Ashton had no idea what that entailed. “I can do it, Papa,” he said excitedly.

  Jack just winked at me. He was too much of a softie to ever make Ashton carry his golf clubs around. Instead, I could picture him letting Ashton drive the cart around. That and lots of ice cream cones.

  Danielle and I proceeded to herd eleven little girls through lunch, crafts, swimming (with the help of a life guard) and cake and ice cream. Last but not least, we did presents. Mia was not happy about saving that for last, but I knew she would have been no good for any other activities had we done that at the beginning. She received some very fun gifts from craft sets, to Barbie Dolls, but the crowning jewel was from her daddy. I had her open that last, and it was a good thing, too, because that was all she had eyes for. Daddy became the hero, even though I had done all the work. I snapped picture after picture and sent them to the luckiest, most idiotic man in the world, my husband.

  The party was a success, so much so Mia conked out clinging to her doll while Danielle and I cleaned up. In my frustration, and admittedly some jealousy, I expressed the unfairness of the situation. “It was me who spent hour upon hour baking, cutting, pasting, and shopping. I was even the one who had to buy the dumb doll. But is it me that receives the accolades and the shouts for joy? No. It’s Michael!”

  My mother-in-law kind of chuckled at me as we took down the butterfly-clad lanterns. “Honey, it’s the plight of all mothers. Someday, when Mia’s a mom, she’ll understand and your dues will come.”

  “Has that day come for you?” I asked.

  She looked at me thoughtfully. “Not yet.”

  I walked over to her and put my arms around her. It took her a second to reciprocate, but she did. “If I haven’t said it lately, thank you. You’re the best grandmother and mother-in-law a girl could ask for. I wouldn’t have survived these last months without you. My life is better because of you.”

  She patted my back a couple of times and let go of me quickly. She didn’t say anything, she just went back to taking down lanterns, but I did see her wipe at her eyes. I made a mental note to talk to Michael. He needed to tell his mom what a good mother she was. She deserved her dues, and I think they were way past due.

  By the time bedtime rolled around, this pregnant lady was tired. I tried my hardest after the kids went to bed to read Michael’s articles, but I just couldn’t keep my eyes open. I was happy Michael texted, “Sorry, I can’t call. Late night rally. Sleep well.”

  I didn’t even have the energy to text back, but I guess Michael took that as not a good sign. Several minutes later I was woken up by another text.

  “Is everything ok?”

  “Just exhausted. Goodnight,” I managed to text back.

  “Goodnight,” he texted back almost instantly.

  I smiled to myself and went back to sleep.

  We weren’t able to connect until the next afternoon. He called while we were still at his parents’ for lunch. He took a turn talking to the kiddos, and then I went out by the pool where he and I could talk alone. I managed to squeeze in reading his articles before church. First he wanted to revel in his delight about Mia’s reaction to the doll. I tried not to let it grate on my nerves, and I tried to remember what Danielle had told me.

  Maybe he could tell I was annoyed with just my short replies of, uh huh’s and yeah’s. “Carly, I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of the doll and … everything else.” He redeemed himself some with his profuse thanks. “I hope you’re taking it easy today, I worry that you’re over doing it.”

  “Feel free to come back to Pine Apple anytime and jump in,” I snapped at him.

  “Carly…I’ll be back in twenty days. You understand how big this assignment is for my career, right?”

  I did understand that, and under different circumstances I would have even been supportive of it, but after everything that had happened, I knew this wasn’t just about his career. If I thought for one second he was doing it for the betterment of our family and out of love, I could get on board with that, but I knew this assignment had nothing to do with any of that.

  I didn’t respond. I wasn’t sure how to. Sometimes just saying nothing at all was the best answer.

  He cleared his throat. “Did you read my excerpts online and in the Wall Street Journal?”

  “Yes.”

  “And …?”

  “They were very well executed. I can see why you were chosen for an exclusive. You did a very good job of keeping it neutral.”

  Which I’m sure Mr. Xavier appreciated. So many were excoriating him in the media. It’s one of the reasons I hated election season. The nastiness on both sides was ridiculous.

  “But … ?”

  “What do you mean but?”

  “I know there’s a but in there. I can hear it in your tone.”

  Maybe he still knew me.

  “Ok. I just found them cold and impersonal.”

  “That’s the way it should be. How else can you keep it unbiased?”

  “Michael, the man has a fascinating story. He’s the first man running for president in modern times that will not be bringing a first lady with him to the White House if elected. He’s also an amazingly successful business man who was a virtual unknown in political circles until the last couple of years. To top it off, he has an incredible rags-to-riches story. There’s a very human element to his campaign that is missing in your articles.”

  “It’s not as easy as you think to walk that line.”

  “I would never say it is, but I know you, and if anybody can walk that line, it’s you.”

  “So you’re saying I can do better.”

  “I’m saying I believe in you, Michael.”

  He paused, he did that a lot now whenever we spoke. “One more question before I have to go. Why don’t you call me Bishop anymore?”

  “Probably for the same reasons you never call me 24B anymore. Good luck tomorrow.”

  “Thanks,” he said quietly. And that’s where we ended the call.

  I sat for a moment on the patio chair before going in, trying to solve the mystery to Michael’s behavior. I knew one piece; he resented me for a perceived lack of success and fulfillment in his career and maybe life in general. I knew he said he regretted what he said and that truth is relative, but there was some truth there; I had felt it in his behavior toward me during the past year. But the more I pulled away, the more he didn’t seem to like it. He was like a walking dichotomy, but the truth was, I wasn’t going to be patient much longer. He couldn’t have it both ways. He either loved me and our family or he didn’t. There was no in between or middle ground there.

  Chapter 15

  “Carly, you’ll never guess who Joseph Xavier was friends with?”

  “Well hello to you too. Who was he friends with?”

  “Your dad.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Your dad helped him with his business arrangements in Mumbai and Hong Kong. Through the process, they became friends.”

  “How did you find this out?”

  “During my interview with him, we got to talking about his business dealings outside of the US and why he felt like that would be a help to him in foreign policy matters. One thing led to another and he mentioned a Derek Rogers. I asked him if he was talking about the same Derek Rogers that died in the Consulate bombing and he said it was the very one. I told him I was married to his daughter. He knew your dad well enough and remembered him enough to ask Carly or Melanie?”

  “Really? So did you say Melanie?”

  “Funny. I told him I married the better of the two and he knew right away which one.”

  Poor Melanie, she always felt like second best. She was closer to Michael’s age, a couple of years older than him. I think my dad was a different person and father to her. From what my mom had told me, I think he had a lot of growing up to do, and he drank too much in the early days of my par
ents’ marriage. I think that may have a lot to do with her attitude toward men and life in general. I know my dad tried to make amends with her later in life, but Melanie was stubborn and unforgiving. I think for her, it was too little too late.

  “You’re lying,” I said.

  “I swear to you, I’m not. He referred to you as enchanting and the apple of your father’s eye. He recalled the pictures your dad had of you in his office.”

  I laughed. “So did you set him straight on the whole enchanting thing?”

  “Why would you think I would say something like that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Why do you think?”

  He was so dense sometimes.

  “Carly, I told you this is about me, not you.”

  “And that’s a lie. This is about me. I saw it in your eyes the day of the ultrasound.”

  “Carly, I told you I regret the things I said that day.”

  “Michael, this is about what you didn’t say that day or didn’t have to say.”

  “Please, do we have to get into this tonight? I don’t want to do this over the phone.”

  I didn’t respond. We were never going to move on, one way or the other, until we had this out. I was tired of skirting around the issue, but I suppose over the phone wasn’t the best way to go. Except that’s all the contact I had with him these days.

  “Carly?”

  “Yes?”

  “He said he would love to meet you. He wants to arrange something when he comes through Georgia sometime next month.”

  “I would be honored.”

  “Ok. You’ll have to go through a security check.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  He laughed. “Ok, I’ll let him know. And I’ll let you know when to look for the article. It should be in several publications.”

  “Goodnight, Michael.”

  When I got off the phone, I decided not to think about the never-ending nowhere conversations I kept having with my husband. Instead I focused on how cool it was that Joseph Xavier knew my dad and that he knew of me and wanted to meet me. I hoped that would work out. I also decided I should call Melanie; it was time to be honest with her about what was going on over here. It had been so easy to keep it from her. She never wanted to talk to my kids; she wasn’t a hands-on aunt or very touchy-feely, and she barely made an effort to call me. I was usually the instigator, unless she had something to really brag about like a famous client or something. She had done some pretty swanky remodels for some of Hollywood’s elite that had mountain homes in Colorado.

  As soon as she picked up, the sarcasm was clear in her voice. “So is this my long lost southern belle of a sister?”

  I refused to take her bait. “Hi, Melanie. How are you?”

  I let her prattle on about all of her clients and complain about each one and then about all of the inept subcontractors she had to work with. And of course it was too hot, and she was peeved at me for not calling sooner. I reminded her she could pick up a phone just as easily.

  “Well I would hate to disturb paradise over there,” she quipped.

  “Why would you say something like that? You think my life is perfect?”

  “Well isn’t it? Married, two kids. You’re living the dream.”

  “Yeah, it’s dreamy over here. Listen, I’m going to go.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” she almost sounded happy.

  “If you must know, Michael and I are separated and I’m pregnant, due the first part of November.”

  I think she was taken aback and of course annoyed I hadn’t told her sooner, but seriously what did she expect? I knew how she felt about my family, how did she refer to them? My “offspring.” And Michael was either my “boy toy” or the “y chromosome that occupied the same space as me.”

  After hanging up, I questioned why I called in the first place. I guess it was good for her to know that my life was anything but perfect, but I got a full fifteen minute lecture on the evils of men and how all they were good for was their sperm, and even that was questionable. And of course, she always knew this would happen. She never liked him in the first place.

  After those two phone calls, I broke out the leftover birthday cake. The baby applauded that decision. She put on quite the routine in response. I was happy to feel her move. She and her siblings were what kept me going every day, and they were reminders that, though life wasn’t perfect, I was blessed.

  We finished off July and headed into August. The baby was on track, and the nursery was painted. I was just waiting for the furniture to be delivered. In the meantime, I began to work on my black and white picture collage on the back wall of the nursery. So far, I was so in love with it. It was a compilation of mine, Michael’s and Ashton and Mia’s baby pictures. Some of the pictures were just of toes or belly buttons or hands or smiles. I loved going through all of the pictures. Mia and Ashton were the most adorable babies, and Michael was too. His and Ashton’s photos were almost identical except for the hair. And Mia’s and mine were similar as well.

  Jack had helped me paint. He offered to do all of the painting because he thought it was bad for the baby, but I insisted on helping with a promise to wear a mask the whole time. I loved to paint, and the project helped me keep my mind off of me. The walls were a slate grey. I know it was an odd choice for a nursery color, but paired with the collage, white furniture, and pops of peach that would be added in through bedding, curtains and throw pillows, it was going to be stunning. I couldn’t wait for it to be done.

  August also meant I was emancipating myself, at least financially. I received my first draw and I started paying all bills and living expenses from my own account. It was weird and a little disheartening, but I felt like I needed to be prepared.

  Michael continued to call every day, sometimes even more than once. I kind of got the feeling he was ready to come home, meaning home in the general sense, not as in our home per se. He sounded tired, and every time we talked, he would mention how many more days until this tour was over.

  His article came out, and I had to say, he rose to the occasion. It was unbiased, but yet it humanized my dad’s old friend. The guy had such an interesting life. He was born to a single mother on welfare, but he ended up being the valedictorian in his South Carolina high school. He went on to Yale and married his college sweetheart, Marilyn. They had four beautiful daughters together, but sadly she passed away from Leukemia a few years ago, just as his political aspirations were beginning. He was obviously very much in love with her, and from all accounts, she was a wonderful person. His daughters now took turns traveling with him.

  Michael was pleased. His article had been picked up by the Wall Street Journal, New York Times, and the Washington Post, as well as several smaller markets. He was back on his A game, as he put it. I was happy for him, but it came at a high price, at least for me. I wondered if I was just expendable baggage in his mind, but I was about to find out. He was due back in town August twentieth, the day after his fortieth birthday.

  I was nervous about seeing him again. Our conversations had been going well, but again, we weren’t talking about anything that had to do with our status as a married couple. He hadn’t even mentioned when we would see each other when he got back. I wasn’t even sure what do to on his birthday. It was so sad too, because I had the most fabulous plans for his fortieth birthday. I had been planning for it for months, well that was until it became clear that this separation was going to be for an extended length of time and maybe permanent.

  I awoke on the morning of his birthday and texted him a simple, “Happy Birthday.” Then my fabulous in-laws came and took my kids for the day and night. They were headed to Chattanooga to the zoo and the aquarium. The kids were super excited, and I was excited to get some time to work on the nursery. I was twelve-and-a-half weeks away from my due date, but with school starting at the beginning of September, and all the activities that go along with that, I wanted to be finished soon. The furniture had arrived, and Jack had helped m
e set up the circular crib that would go in the center of the room. I had found a circular peach patterned throw rug for it to sit on. It looked perfect against the dark hardwood. I had always wanted a circular crib, but I never had a room for it to work in. Now I did at last.

  My husband never responded to my text, but at this point in our marriage, I didn’t even think twice about it. I just finished packing up the kiddos and sent them off, and then I cranked up my alternative music playlist and went to town on my beautiful baby nursery. I began by finishing up the curtains my mother–in-law had helped me with; I just needed to add the trim. Then I hung the hardware and the curtains. I stood back and admired my handiwork. I had to say they were fabulous.

  By mid-afternoon, I was able to focus on the collage that was about a quarter of the way done. The trick was rearranging the pictures to make it pleasing to the eye, while at the same time making it look randomly coherent. There was a lot of putting up pictures and taking them down, but in the end, I knew it would be worth it. I also knew I needed to finish it soon; getting up and down in this almost twenty-eight-week pregnant body wasn’t very fun.

  I was having a great afternoon with me, myself, and I as I sang along to my tunes and basked in the glory of my art. It was then that I had the ever living heck scared out of me. With my back turned to the door, and in deep contemplation about where the next picture should go, I felt a tap on my shoulder. I jumped up higher and faster than I thought was possible in my current state.

  “It’s just me,” Michael said.

  I smacked him. “Don’t ever do that to me again! What are you even doing here?” I was still clutching my chest. I could feel my heart pounding; the scare even made the baby move.

  He didn’t look happy at all. “Well, I came home early to surprise you, but instead I was the surprised one.” He immediately handed me some papers. “That’s one heck of a birthday present to come home to,” he barked.