“Of course it makes sense. It makes sense because you’re still in love with him, or at least you’re in love with him again—even after just a few minutes and a steamy phone call. You know that you are. I don’t think you need to do any more pros. You have your answer,” Andi sounds so certain. “And by the way,” she adds. “I really do think Ben is pretty gorgeous—I’m not just saying it. And I’m glad you finally decided to ask about Rebecca—but please, just do it already.”
“Hey Sam, how’re you doing?” I yell over to Sam, who’s climbing up the stairs to the slide. “You good?” I know I’m just stalling. It’s one thing to decide to do it, another to type and hit send. I don’t know how I morphed from a forty-four–year-old to a seventh grader. Is this what dating in your forties does to you? Spins you right back to adolescence?
“I’m great!” Sam answers. “I’m at the park with Logan!”
“Good, Baby-cakes. I’m glad you’re happy.”
“I’m so glad Sam and Logan are together at school again. Aren’t you?”
Andi suddenly takes me by the shoulders and shakes me. Her thin hands are surprisingly strong. “Send the fucking message!” It’s a fierce whisper. “Stop delaying! You deserve to be happy. I know it’s hard, and I know it’s scary, but if you don’t at least try with Ben, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
“Fine, I’ll write to him now,” I say as I bring up Ben’s Facebook message on my phone again. I start typing, Hi Ben, In answer to your question, it’s really neither. I do feel something for you—how could I not? And I know I could get past what happened in college—you’re right, you were a kid and we all do stuff as kids that we regret. It might take me a bit of time to trust you again, but I know I would get there. There’s one thing that’s worrying me, though—when I went to send you a message last night, I saw a picture of you with a beautiful woman and she was kissing you. It seems like you might be dating someone else and while I know it would be completely wrong of me to ask you to see me exclusively when we haven’t even gone out on an actual date, I can’t help it. I don’t think I would be able to handle it if you were seeing someone else. I’m sorry, but if you’re dating her I can’t see you again.
Before I hit reply I let Andi read it. She nods her head and then adds, But if you’re not, I’d be happy to give you a second chance.
“No, I don’t want to say that—just leave it the way it was, please,” but it’s too late—she’s already hit reply. I love Andi dearly, but she always feels like she needs to fix me. I know that perhaps I need fixing, especially lately, and it is nice to know that someone cares about me enough to make the effort, but I just wanted to write what I wanted to write and suddenly I’m furious that she changed it, without giving me the chance to approve. “What the fuck?” I whisper. “Do I not have an opinion?”
“Look, I love you, Max. You know I do, but you’re terrified of being happy. I don’t blame you. After everything you’ve been through, you’re just waiting for the other shoe to fall, and if things are going well, you feel as if it’s a matter of time before something bad happens.”
I start to protest, but Andi cuts me off. “To tell you the truth, I think you were kind of like that even before everything happened, but it’s gotten worse. You’re convinced that if you and Ben get together, it will just be a prelude to things falling apart.”
I stare out at the playground in silence and Andi continues, “Even if he writes back and says that this woman, Rebecca, is just a friend, you’ll still find a reason not to see him again. So, now I just set it up so that if she is just a friend, he already knows that you want to see him again.” Andi pauses and gives me that megawatt smile. “I’m telling you, you’ll thank me later. Plus, yesterday you said your parents sent you a sign. I’m just channeling that.”
For a moment I just want to smack the smile off Andi’s face. “Andi, do you realize that it’s just over a month since I found out that my husband was having an affair, kicked him out, became some sort of crazy Internet sensation leaving me wide open to people picking me apart and leaving my family life in complete upheaval? This isn’t having a pity party—these are just facts.” I take a deep breath and continue, not even giving her a chance to answer. “Maybe I’m cautious as a sense of self-preservation. Did you see that photographer before? The one yesterday got such a juicy story; they’re just waiting to rip me to shreds again. So, yes—I am a little afraid to be happy. Can you blame me?”
“No, I guess I can’t,” Andi says quietly.
“You know, it doesn’t mean I’m not strong—it just means that I’m protecting my heart. I need to put all of my energy into my kids. If I’m brokenhearted over a guy, how can I be the rock my kids need?”
“I never said you weren’t strong. It’s just that I’ve learned that when really bad things happen, sometimes good things follow. And your heart has to be open to that.”
I let out a sign and shake my head. This Pollyannish stuff is wearing on me, but Andi’s not done. “Matt was so sick, and I thought we’d never have a chance to be happy again, especially when he relapsed. But then, things got better and we had Logan. I’m not a cockeyed optimist; I just know that if happiness presents itself, you need to grab it, even if the timing isn’t exactly right.” Andi puts her arm around me and pulls me close. I lean my head on her shoulder—even when I’m pissed, she’s still the best thing I’ve got. “Even if your marriage just fell apart; even if your kids are having a tough time; even if Nick might try to get custody. You have to just take a chance—Ben is your soul mate. I’ve never even seen you together and I know that he is. Nick has moved on already. In fact, he moved on before you were even over. There’s no reason that you have to wait.”
“You know what?” I ask. “This may be a moot point. I’m sure he’ll be honest and tell me if he’s dating someone, so why don’t I just wait until I hear from him, before I stress out about whether or not I should see him again? If he says he’s dating her, I won’t see him again—end of story.”
“So, check and see if he wrote back to you.” Andi hands me my phone and I glance at it nervously. I see a message from Ben on the lock screen, but I look away quickly. My heart is suddenly hammering in my chest again, and I just don’t want to read it. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know if he’s dating that gorgeous woman, and I don’t want to have to make a decision if he’s not.
I take a deep breath and put in my password, click on Facebook and read Ben’s message out loud to Andi. Max, I would never do that. I would never try to get back together with you after all these years if I was dating someone else. What would be the point? That woman, Rebecca, is my good friend’s girlfriend. They’re always fighting, and she gets back at him by flirting with his friends and posting the pictures to Facebook. She tags people and it’s really kind of obnoxious, if you ask me. She’s very into Facebook and posts pictures all the time. She’s says she’s just a flirt, but I think she’s playing games with him. Anyway, my friend stupidly takes everything that she dishes out, probably because she’s almost 15 years younger than he is and it blinds him. I’m not even the only one she posts pictures of. Please believe me. I removed the post with her picture because I was afraid of this—I was afraid that you would decide to give me another chance and then see the picture and change your mind. What do I need to do to make you believe me? Just tell me. I’ll do anything. BTW, I’m so glad I got this message during lunch, so I could set the record straight right away. Love, Ben
Andi actually has tears in her eyes. I can only tell this because she’s removed her sunglasses and is dabbing at them with a tissue she’s pulled out of her purse. “Oh, it’s so romantic,” she breathes. “I can’t take it. Maybe I’m living vicariously through you; maybe that’s why I’m such a pain in the ass to you. I love Matt more than anything, but it’s been a long time since he’s been over the top romantic, you know? What if those days are gone?” She sighs and puts her sunglasses back on and stares straight ahead.
“I don’t want to have to hope that he’ll cheat on me so I can kick him out and find my own Ben. Plus, how could I even do that when he’s been so ill and been through so much. How could I even think that? I’m a terrible person.” Andi shakes her head sadly.
“You’re not a terrible person. You’re just human.” Now it’s my turn to hug her.
“I still feel terrible when I have those thoughts—that maybe I could be happier with someone else. It’s not Matt’s fault that he’s not romantic. It’s hard to be romantic when all your energy just goes into surviving. But you know what?” Andi turns to me. “Maybe living vicariously through you is enough. Write back! Tell him you want to throw him on the floor and have your way with him.”
I slide Andi a look.
“Okay, maybe I’m getting a little too carried away with this living-vicariously-through-you thing.”
I’m silent for a moment, just watching the boys play. Up the slide and down—over and over. “I’m definitely getting too carried away,” Andi says. “Is it creepy?”
“What? No, it’s not creepy at all. It’s kind of funny and flattering at the same time. Sorry. I wasn’t really paying attention just now.”
“I know—you seem not here all of a sudden. What is it?”
I don’t really know how to explain what I’m feeling. I do know that I’m filled with warmth at the idea of Ben not wanting to see anyone else—at the idea that maybe this can work, but I’m also terrified that he could be lying. He could just have hidden the post from me for all I know. How do I get past this insanity?
“Do you believe him?” I ask.
Andi answers quickly. “I do. I mean, it makes sense. Didn’t you say that her relationship status said, ‘It’s complicated?’ Based on what Ben said, I would expect her relationship status to say just that. Wouldn’t you? He says that she and her boyfriend fight a lot and she plays games. I believe him. It all fits.”
“Yeah, I think I believe him too, but I don’t know what to do,” I say quietly. “I want to give him another chance, I just need a moment. I need a day or two or three—a week, maybe. I do want to see what can happen, but I need to think about how to respond. And right now, I need to get Sam off the playground and home because Emma’s bus comes soon, and I’m pretty sure she forgot her key again.” I pause for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by everything. “I also need to get everyone ready to go to Nick and Sloane’s tonight—God, I hate the sound of that, ‘Nick and Sloane’s.’”
“It does sound awful,” Andi agrees. “But then again, everything about that woman is awful.”
“I know. I can’t believe he already moved in with her. How could he just move on so easily? I guess it’s not that hard if you’ve already started moving on before your marriage is over, like you said.” I can’t help it, my eyes well up with tears.
Andi hands me a tissue and it’s my turn to dab at my eyes, before I can continue. “It’s so hard for me to believe that we’re completely over, and he’s moving in with someone new. It’s just sad. I know that it’s the right thing for us to be apart, but,” I pause, searching for the right words. There are none. No eloquent way to put it. “It’s just sad,” I say again. “And, believe me—I’m excited about the possibility of reuniting with Ben, despite what you think about my fear of happiness. But the end of a marriage is always heartbreaking, even if it was a house of cards just waiting to fall.”
“I know, Max. And I feel bad for being so hard on you—I just don’t want to see you squander a chance at happiness. Nick is gone. You’re lucky that you’re not pining away for him. But I do understand that you need some time to mourn. So don’t write back to him, if you don’t want to. I’ll stop being such a hard-ass.”
I reach over and hug Andi. “Thank you for caring enough to be a hard-ass. I know I often need a little push. You know what? I’ll write back to him now, but I won’t give him an answer—I’ll just let him know that I got his message, and that I appreciate that he got back to me so quickly.”
I type, Ben, Thanks for your honesty. I’ll admit—I’m happy that you’re not seeing that woman. It’s a relief, but I still feel nervous, so just have patience. I hope you understand. I click reply before Andi can tell me that I should have said I wanted to see him again soon.
“Okay, that’s done,” I say brightly. “I need to get going home. Sorry I talked the whole time about my screwed-up life.” I stand up from the bench and scan the playground for Sam. I see a lens pointing through the fence at me again and I have an urge to give it and the person behind it the finger, but instead I smile and wave. I decide that I might as well show a nicer, happier side of myself, just in case they decide to actually publish it. I’m sure the ones of me looking like a train wreck are far more profitable. But if this shows up somewhere and I look happy and normal, then perhaps people will forget about me. Happy and normal is far more boring than messed up and depressed, so I figure it’s worth a shot.
“Let me know as soon as you hear back from Ben, okay?” Andi pleads.
“I’ll let you know, don’t worry.”
“Maybe he wrote back to you already. Why don’t you check?” Andi suggests.
“I think I should wait. If I check now, then I’m going to have to sit here and analyze it with you, and I really need to get home.” I turn from Andi and bellow, “Sam! Come on, we have to get going.”
No response. I yell louder. “Sam, get your tushy over here now. I’m starting to count.”
I realize with a shudder that the lens is still pointed at me and probably captured me at an incredibly unflattering moment, yelling. You know what—I really couldn’t care less at this point. Let people talk. I really, truly just don’t give a fuck what people think of me. It’s incredibly liberating to feel like that mantra is up and working again. “One,” I start to count. Sam is running to me and by the time I reach, “Two,” he’s in front of me. “I’m here!” he says excitedly. “What do I get for listening?”
I scoop him up in my arms. “You get a big hug and these,” I shower him with kisses all over his face as he giggles that rolling, infectious giggle. I hope the paparazzo is getting this, so maybe the next headline will be, “SSG Good Mom.” I doubt it, but still… I feel happy.
Suddenly, I realize how ridiculous I’m being about Ben. You know how they talk about out-of-body experiences? Well, I feel like I’m having an “out-of-mind experience.” I’m feeling one way, but this kind of detached part of me is saying, What the fuck, Max? and I know she’s right. Why can’t I just see Ben for who he is now? A Facebook picture doesn’t mean anything—it’s just stupid. It’s nothing. What Ben did twenty years ago doesn’t mean anything either. It’s in the past, and that’s where it belongs.
I’m responsible for my own happiness. I have to “quit my bellyaching,” as I’ve ordered my kids to do more than once. No one wants to listen to a whiner, and I realize that’s what I’ve become. I turn to back to Andi. “I know you’re right about everything,” I admit. “Thanks for listening to me bitch and moan and be pissy and almost waste what could be the best opportunity of my life, just because I’m scared. And, thank you for not literally slapping the sense into me, even though you did shake me pretty hard.”
Andi laughs. “Look, I love you and I know this isn’t you. You’re always the voice of reason. You’re always so strong for everyone. You’re allowed to break down for a bit after your husband cheated on you and with everything else going on. I think that’s the problem actually—you’re wound so tightly, and you’re so strong all the time, that you had to snap.”
“I know—I can’t remember a time that I didn’t try to be at least somewhat cheery for my kids, no matter how much Nick and I fought. I tried not to let them see any darkness. Even now, I’ve tried to shield them. I haven’t cried in front of them—at least not really—nothing more than my eyes welling up, no full-on sobbing. You’re probably the only one I’ve cried in front of.” I sigh. I guess sometimes you can’t help but fall apart. But if I
’m falling apart, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather catch me than Ben.
***
While I’m waiting for Emma to get home and the other boys to follow, I get on Facebook and click on Create a Page. I need to make this cookie business real. I type in Maximum Cookies and click on local business. It only takes me about ten minutes to set it up, but I feel like I’ve changed my life. Now it’s official—if I have this page and people actually like it, I need to provide the goods promised. I snap a picture of one of the few remaining rugelach and make it the profile picture. Then I take an artful photo of my robin’s egg blue mixing bowl and make that the cover for the page. I post a photo of the rugelach and a slice of apple cake on one of my good plates and caption it, “Yum.” I think it looks pretty good so far, so I send it to Andi with the message, “What do you think?”
“I think it’s awesome! Sharing!!” she replies right away.
I share it on my Facebook page and invite a handful of people to like it. By the time my kids are home from school it has thirty likes, so I take a few minutes to post a list of all of the goodies available and the prices. Within a few minutes, I have my first order. Of course it’s Andi, and I’m not going to charge her, but still—her friends will see that she ordered, because she posted it to the page, and perhaps they’ll order, too. It works out perfectly—since Nick has the kids I can spend the whole weekend baking. It’ll help me pass the time and not feel so lonely without the kids here.
Once I get everyone’s overnight bags packed, I sit them down in the living room and tell them that they won’t be going to the hotel to see Daddy tonight. They all start yelling and complaining at once, so I hold up my hand to shush them. “Let me finish. You won’t be going to the hotel tonight because you’ll be going to Sloane’s house, which is now Daddy’s house too.” I don’t know how much Nick has told them, but they don’t seem too shocked, so I’m guessing they knew this was coming.
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