The Girl in Seat 24B

by Jennifer Peel

  He gently extricated himself from my lips and leaned his forehead against mine as he still held my face in his palms. “I remembered how much I regretted not kissing you on our actual first date. I couldn’t sleep that night thinking about what I had missed out on. I didn’t want that again tonight.”

  He kissed my forehead and shut my door and walked quickly around, this time to the driver’s side.

  I tried to rapidly wiped away an errant tear or two before he noticed.

  “Are you tired? Do you want to go home?” he asked.

  Suddenly, I had a thought. I smiled brightly. “No. There’s something else I want do. Will you will take me to Johnsons?”

  “You want me to take you to the grocery store?”

  “Yep.”

  “Ok … ”

  I think he was pretty disappointed on the way over, but I hoped he wouldn’t be for long.

  As soon as he parked, I looked over to him. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

  He just shook his head at me. I quickly hopped out and made my way in. I grabbed a little cart and headed to the bakery section. I hoped they had what I was looking for, and thankfully they did. I placed a small double layered red velvet cake in the basket. Then I went in search of candles, a lighter, and plastic forks. I even grabbed some sparkling water. At checkout I asked if they could put it all in a paper bag with handles to hide the purchase.

  I walked as quickly as I could back to my waiting husband. It was the first time in weeks I had any hope that maybe he would continue to be my husband. I couldn’t help but smile. As I approached his truck, he had the windows down and he was scrolling through his phone.

  Before I opened the door, I raised my eyebrow at him through the open window. “Hmm … I believe you just broke rule number one.”

  He immediately threw his phone in his console and reached over and opened the door from the inside. I set my bag down; he tried to peer in, but I quickly closed it.

  “Rule number four, no peeking.”

  He smiled. “Ok, so now what?”

  “Riverbottom Park.”

  He had no problem complying, but he was definitely intrigued. Riverbottom Park was near his parent’s place. It was a lovely place for a stroll or a picnic. There was a great spot right by the river where the willow trees hung low and the scent of wildflowers infused the air. It was one of the first places that Michael had taken me when he brought me home to meet his parents for the first time. It had been in the spring, and it was so green compared to back home in Colorado. I think I instantly fell in love with the southern charm of it all. After we had Ashton, it was an easy choice to make to settle down here.

  We pulled into the parking area near the playground. There were just a handful of cars, which wasn’t surprising since it was close to nine p.m. Michael looked over to me for direction.

  “Do you still carry a blanket behind the back seat?”

  He nodded his head yes.

  “Perfect. Grab it,” I said as I exited the vehicle with my bag.

  He met me with the blanket in hand, and we began to walk toward the river. It was a little difficult, in heels, walking on the uneven grass with only a speck of daylight left in the darkening sky. Michael kept steadying me and several times he offered to carry the bag, but I refused. We landed in our favorite spot on the bank of the river. Michael laid out the blanket, and I kicked off my shoes and untied my scarf. It was still quite warm. Michael helped me sit down, although I wasn’t in need of that particular service yet, but it was nice all the same. As soon as we were both situated, he looked at me like, “Now what?”

  I just looked out over the water and sighed. I loved this place. “Do you remember the first time you brought me here?”

  He wickedly grinned and leaned over and kissed my neck and whispered against it, “I do.”

  Goosebumps erupted as he continued to softly kiss my neck.

  “I wish we could go back to those days, don’t you?” he quietly asked between kisses.

  I sighed. “Those were amazing times and I loved every second, but so much wonderful has happened since then and we have so much to look forward to.”

  He abruptly stopped kissing me and sat up straight and looked out beyond.

  I took his hand. “What’s wrong?”

  He squeezed my hand, but quickly let go. “Nothing. So what’s in the bag?”

  I gave him a quizzical look. I could tell something was off. He smiled, but it was wistful. I didn’t know what else to do, so I asked him to close his eyes. His smile turned wry at the request, but he obeyed. I waved my hand in front of his face to check before I emptied the contents of my bag. I took out the cake and placed the four and the zero candles in the center and then I carefully lit them. Thankfully, at the moment there wasn’t a breeze. Then I began to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ and without prompting, he opened his eyes.

  At first his smile was thin, so I sang even louder and he couldn’t help but grin broadly. I finished on a long drawn out note, then held the cake close to him.

  “Make a wish, Michael.”

  He thought for a moment as he searched my eyes. I got the feeling he was torn on what to wish for. His eyes were sullen as they reflected the candle light. I looked deeply into those troubled blue eyes of his, trying to figure out what was going on with him. It wasn’t like Michael was a happy-go-lucky kind of a guy, but he used to be happy, or maybe content was a better word. He was anything but content at the moment, and hadn’t been in some time. I wished I knew what to do to make it better. Or, sometimes I wished I could just smack him and say, get over it already. Your life is great.

  He easily blew out both candles. I leaned over the cake and kissed him once on the lips.

  “Happy Birthday,” I whispered.

  His eyes were still searching as I lowered the cake and took out the candles.

  “Forty,” he sighed.

  “Forty’s the new twenty, you know.”

  “Spoken like someone several years from turning said age.”

  I rolled my eyes and handed him a fork. “Honestly, I don’t think forty will bother me. In fact, I look forward to it. I think women in their forties exude a sexiness and confidence that only comes with age.”

  “Talk to me in six years.”

  I dug into the cake with my fork and retrieved a large bite and then held it up in front of his face. “Smile and eat your cake.”

  He reluctantly grinned and opened his mouth. I shoved the cake right in.

  “Mmm,” he said as he chewed slowly.

  I joined him and took a bite myself. It was pretty good. Not as good as homemade, but it would do. We ate silently for a moment, looking out over the river. It was completely dark now except for fireflies and moonlight. I kept wondering what he was thinking about and if he would ever really open up to me again. I wondered if this was the last birthday we would celebrate together, or if we were on the road to reconciliation. I just kept waiting for him to choose, but I was becoming impatient.

  “I had an early flight from Dallas. I think I’m ready to call it a day,” he said without warning.

  “Ok.” I didn’t even try to hide my disappointment.

  I covered the cake back up and placed it in the bag. Michael stood up and helped me up. He gently pulled me to him as I stood, and he held me for a moment. I held on tight. I didn’t want to let go, but he kissed the top of my head and did just that. He lifted up the bag and the blanket and left me standing there in the very warm evening air feeling lost and confused.

  Chapter 16

  You know when they say be careful what you ask for? I think whoever that was knew what they were talking about. Michael’s bipolar behavior over the weekend was perplexing to say the least. I desperately needed to know why he was acting that way and what I should do. Let’s cover the chain of events. He came home early to surprise me, stormed over to the house because, surprise, I wasn’t just sitting around twiddling my thumbs waiting for him to do whatever he was going to do. T
hen I found myself in his arms, and he claimed to miss me and asked me out. We had a lovely dinner and shared a passionate kiss; he even implied he wanted more, but then we headed to the park for what I thought would be a continuation of the romantic evening, and perhaps the beginning of reconciliation, and it was then that he became distant again.

  We had a silent drive home, until the end when he mentioned how busy he’d be that weekend, finishing up a couple of articles and getting ready for his assignment in Phoenix the following week. I reminded him he hadn’t seen his children in almost two months, so he stopped by Saturday night and took them to pizza; I wasn’t invited. Sunday he declined an invitation to his parents’ house for lunch, and all I got was a phone call telling me he was off again and he’d see me Friday when we would meet with Mr. Xavier for dinner.

  I knew his parents wanted to stay out of our marriage, but I felt like I didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so while the kids were swimming after my doctor’s appointment on Tuesday, I told them about everything that had happened the previous weekend and asked for their take on it. They were both reluctant, but I think they could tell I was in desperate need of advice.

  “Honey,” Jack began. “Danielle and I have been talking.”

  Danielle looked solemnly over at him. This wasn’t good.

  He reached over and took my hand. “Honey,” he repeated. “This can’t go on. It’s not good for you or the kids. I thought my son would get his head out of his as … butt and realize what he was throwing away, but I just don’t know where his head is at.”

  “So you think I should file for divorce?” my voice faltered.

  I looked at Danielle, and she had tears in her eyes. She looked like she couldn’t speak. Jack’s face was red with anger. “We don’t want to see that, but we’ll support you one hundred percent if that’s what you decide, and we won’t blame you one bit. You don’t deserve this.”

  I tried to keep my tears at bay. I didn’t want the kids to see me crying again. They’d already seen way too much of that. I quietly told them of my meeting with the lawyer. They didn’t seem surprised. They just reiterated they were here for me, regardless, and how sorry they were. It was a depressing conversation, but at the same time empowering. It was like I needed someone to give me permission. I decided that weekend, when Michael was in town, we were having it out once and for all. He was going to either agree to work on our marriage and make it a priority by seeking counseling and taking the necessary steps to come home, or I was filing for divorce.

  The thought made my stomach twist in knots, but my in-laws were right, this wasn’t good for anyone, especially Mia and Ashton. I spent the rest of the week taking the rug rats school clothes and supply shopping. Mia was so excited to be starting kindergarten, and she was even more excited to be in the same school as Ashton. We had to get the perfect pink backpack with butterflies on it, of course, and the prettiest lunchbox we could find. Ashton was surprisingly excited too. I had Jack to thank for that. He was the best grandpa around.

  Ashton didn’t want kid lunchboxes and backpacks. “I’m a man now,” he informed me. He could catch and gut his own fish, and Jack had taken him to the shooting range, so now he had shot a gun, and of course Papa let him drive the golf cart. He was growing up to be a true southern boy. Too bad his daddy was missing out on it all. What was worse was that Michael didn’t even seem to care. Ashton ended up, to my chagrin, with a camouflaged backpack and lunchbox. I would have preferred Legos or Star Wars, but hey, if it made him happy, I was ok with it.

  At night, while the kids slept, I worked on my wall. It was getting so close to being done. As I worked, I talked to the baby. I told her stories about how her daddy used to be and why I fell in love with him. I talked to her about my parents and how much I missed them and all the interesting places I had lived around the world, including Japan, Finland, Iceland and even a tiny island called Micronesia. I told her funny stories about Mia and Ashton and how I couldn’t wait for her to get here to meet them. I promised her, no matter what, we would be happy and I would take care of them.

  Thursday, I finished the wall at around midnight. The only spaces I left open were left for the little girl that was growing inside of me. I wanted all of us to be represented on the wall. I sighed as I thought it might be the last and only place where we would all truly be together. I fell into the new white, oversized chair in the corner of the room and sank low into it. I had been having such a hard time sleeping. I knew this weekend my life was going to change, and I knew it needed it to, but I was scared.

  I had a thought as I sat there, and I went and grabbed my laptop and came right back to my new favorite spot in the house, that chair in the nursery. I curled up and watched the baby move as the laptop came to life. The baby was big enough for me to see hands and feet protruding out. I contemplated how life was so amazing and how incredible it was that a human could grow inside of me. As soon as I could, I got on the internet and typed in blog.thegirlinseat24b.com. It had been ages since I visited the old site. As soon as I saw the page come up, I teared up, seeing the cover photo of Michael and me sitting next to one another on our flight to Tahiti. I remember asking the stewardess to take it. We looked so young. What did I even know at twenty-four? I guess the only thing I knew was, I was in love. I touched the screen lightly and brushed over Michael’s happy face. He looked like he was in love, right? I scrolled through several other pictures of us; we looked so happy. It looked real, and I could still remember how it felt; those memories felt so real, my heart ached. Then I looked at the pictures of me with my babies. Michael had written beautiful posts about the day each of our children were born. When Ashton was born, his blog centered around what it was like to become a father for the first time, how proud he was to have a son, and everything he was going to teach him. When Mia was born, he wrote about what an honor it was to raise a girl and how he wished she would grow up to be just like her mother. He talked about how amazing I was, how he couldn’t believe that I still loved him, and that “lucky” didn’t even begin to describe him.

  What happened? How did a love like that turn into resentment? Was there any hope for us at all? I was about to find out.

  Michael was supposed to meet me at the house where a car and driver was picking us up to drive us downtown to one of those ritzy hotels for dinner. My in-laws came over in the afternoon; they hadn’t seen their son since the weekend I was in the hospital, and they thought this would be a good opportunity. They were also going to stay and babysit for me. With them there, I could shower in peace. I had mixed emotions coursing through me as I showered. I was excited on one hand, that I was getting to meet a man who was possibly the future president of the United States—a man who had been a friend of my dad’s. I mean, how often does one get a chance like that? On the other hand, I was sick to my stomach thinking this could possibly be it for my marriage. There was no more sitting on the fence.

  As soon as I turned off the water, I heard my phone ring on my bed in the room. I wrapped a towel around me quickly, but it quit ringing. Oh well, I thought as I dried off. I was getting too big to be running to the phone, or anywhere for that matter. At almost thirty weeks pregnant, whoever it was could call back if it was that important. I carefully did my makeup and blow dried my hair to just the way I liked it, or just the way Michael loved it. He was such a stupid man. I dressed carefully in my evening gown. It was a beautiful, long Valencia gown in sunset red. I thought it was exquisite, or as exquisite as it could get in my current state.

  On my way out to the living room, I grabbed my phone. Two missed calls and messages from Michael.

  “Carly, please call me as soon as you get this message. My flight got delayed in Huntsville. I’ll probably have to meet you at the hotel, but I need to talk to you first.”

  “Carly, please call me. It’s important that I talk to you.”

  I wondered what the urgency was. I quickly tried to call him, but it went straight to voice mail. I left a quick message
of annoyance. He hardly called me all week and now, all of sudden, he wanted to talk to me, and of course, he was running late. The driver was going to arrive in forty-five minutes. There was no way Michael was making it to the house on time. The flight from Huntsville was less than an hour, but we lived forty-five minutes from the Atlanta airport.

  I looked in my full-length mirror once more and added a light sheen of lip gloss. I slipped into my nude heels and walked out, completely out of sorts.

  “You look like the most beautiful princess ever,” Mia said as I walked into the living room. That boosted my mood significantly. I smiled and kissed the top of her sweet head.

  Jack even came and kissed my cheek. “You are stunning, my dear.”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  He touched my cheek and smiled. “You know, I would really love it if you would call me Dad.”

  I smiled back. “Really? What if, you know … you know … ” I didn’t want to say divorce in front of the kids. And it’s not like I didn’t want to. I would love to. Jack was like a father to me.

  “That won’t change how we feel about you.”

  I hugged him tight and kissed his cheek. “Thank you, Dad.” I almost choked on the words. I hadn’t said them in so long, and my feelings for Jack were overwhelming. I owed him so much. I looked at Danielle. She had a thoughtful look as she looked up to me from the couch. She didn’t ask me to call her mom, but that was ok. I was happy with how far we’d come these past few months.

  At five-thirty, the doorbell rang, and there stood a very large intimidating man in a black suit and glasses.

  “Mrs. Bishop?”

  “That’s me.” I wasn’t sure for how long, but he didn’t need to know that.