“Is she going to be our new mom?” Will asks.
“No, honey—I’ll always be your mom,” I assure him.
“I mean will Sloane be our stepmom?” he clarifies.
I don’t really know what to say, so I just answer, “Maybe at some point, but right now Daddy’s just moving into her house. They aren’t getting married yet.”
“Will she be a mean stepmom like in Cinderella?” Sam asks.
“No, Sweetie, she won’t be a mean stepmom,” I answer, even though I want to scream, “Yes! Yes, she’ll be an evil stepmother—the most evil in all of the land.”
I know in my heart that I need to make this positive for my kids, no matter how negatively I feel about it. I keep thinking that it’s so fast, but it’s only fast if they had just gotten together after we split up. I need to remember that they were actually together for far longer than that—longer than I want to contemplate. I don’t think I’ll ever really know how long the affair was going on for—how long I played the fool. But that doesn’t really matter. However long it was, it was enough time that now they’re getting serious. I think about how Nick insisted that Sloane was a psycho, and he would end things the night I confronted him. Instead, things heated up even more between them and here I am, explaining to my kids that they will be going to Sloane’s house from now on. I find it a bit mind-boggling, but I try not to show it.
“So, is everyone okay with it?”
“I guess,” Trevor says. “But is she going to make us eat oatmeal for breakfast every weekend we’re there now?”
“I don’t know, but you can tell her you don’t want it—politely. Any other questions?” I feel like a coach at a news conference after a big game.
Emma is staring at the floor and I know something is eating at her. “Emma,” I say softly. “What is it?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it right now, okay?” she answers glumly.
“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s bothering you.”
She looks at her brothers and looks as if she’s deciding whether or not she should speak in front of them. Trevor, who’s been silent so far, pipes up, “Em, you know we’re all in this together, so just spit it out already.”
It’s almost a sweet sentiment, almost. I’ll take what I can get—after all of the animosity Emma has felt toward me, and often toward her brothers, I feel like we’ve really turned a corner—between the hug this morning and this. “Emma, if you want we can go into another room and speak alone. But I can tell you that your brothers have probably felt the same things that you’re feeling, and maybe if you all talk about it, you’ll feel better. I actually made an appointment for all of us to go see someone to talk to, but that’s not until next week, so just talk now.”
Emma takes a deep breath and says, “So, I thought that I would be really happy—really, really happy—if Dad moved in with Sloane. I was even going to ask if I could move in with them. She just seemed like she’s so cool. We go to the spa, and she bought me Jimmy Choos, but sometimes I think she’s just using me to make Dad love her more. Like if she gives me lots of stuff, Dad will think she’s so great, you know?”
Oh, I know all right. I’ve been thinking the same thing this whole time. Sloane is using my kids to get to Nick. Even worse, she’s using Emma to replace Ashley, since Ashley wants nothing to do with her. Lose one daughter, just find yourself another. She is some piece of work, but I can’t let Emma think that she’s just using her. After everything she’s been through, she needs to think that Sloane truly cares about her. So, I bite my tongue and that’s exactly what I tell her, “You know—Sloane does care about you. That’s why she does everything. I’m sure.”
“I’m not,” Emma counters.
“Look—she’ll never replace me. I never want her to, but it’s good to have extra people to love you, right?”
Emma gazes right into my eyes and answers, “She’s nothing like you. She’s a shallow b-word.” She glances at Sam to make sure he doesn’t get it. “I’m sorry, Mom, for blaming you for everything. I know it wasn’t all your fault. I’m still upset, but I don’t hate you anymore.”
There are tears streaming down my face and Emma looks at me with a mix of pity, disgust and amusement. “Please don’t get all emotional and carried away, okay?”
“Fine,” I say as I dab my eyes. “I just love you so much. I love all of you more than anything else in the whole wide world. You all know that, right?”
Emma rolls her eyes and answers, “Yes, we know that.”
Trevor gets up and gives me a hug, and Will and Sam join him, wrapping their arms around my waist. I hold out my arms to Emma and she reluctantly gets up and hugs me too. I actually feel—dare I say it—happy. “You know what? Why don’t you bring Dad and Sloane the rest of the cake and rugelach? There may even be some Snickerdoodles left. You can have them for dessert.” I’m feeling generous. The kids hug me a little tighter, and I’m eternally grateful for this moment, ephemeral as it is. I know I still have to have that difficult conversation with Nick—making sure he wasn’t serious about trying to get custody. I have to decide what to say to him, but I’ll figure it out on the way there.
As the kids get on their jackets and shoes, I resist the urge to put on Sam’s for him. He wanted to be just like his big sister and brothers and put on his own shoes, so I bought him Velcro sneakers and he’s putting them on, albeit slowly. I guess there’s no rush. It’s not like I have any plans tonight, except maybe a stop at Redbox for a movie.
While I’m waiting, I bring up Facebook on my phone. There isn’t a message from Ben yet, and I have to admit that I’m more than a little disappointed. Maybe I should have taken Andi’s advice and been more enthusiastic. I know now that I shouldn’t have let fear get in the way. I just really want to see Ben again. With a growing pit in my stomach, I realize that just might not happen. Maybe once you push someone away enough times, they figure why bother? I’m about to send him another message saying, “Maybe we should get together one more time,” when I realize the kids are all standing at the door waiting for me.
“Okay,” I practically chirp. “Let’s go to your Dad’s new house.” It may just be my imagination, but I swear I hear a collective groan. And I can’t help it—it makes me just a little gleeful thinking about it as I back out of the driveway.
Nick meets me at the door and Sloane is behind him. “Not bad, huh?” he whispers to me as I take in Sloane’s home. It’s in what’s unofficially known as the “Golden Ghetto” and is palatial compared to mine—actually it’s palatial compared to most houses. The “Golden Ghetto” is a neighborhood filled with acre lots with McMansions sitting on them. The homes generally start at a million dollars, unless they’re a handyman special. Even those are well over half a million. I know this because I’ve dreamed about living in this neighborhood since we moved to East Hollow and every once in a while I look up listings for houses here. I know the chance of ever moving to these streets is slim to none, especially now that I’m a single mom—but, a girl can dream.
“Yes, it’s very impressive, Nick,” I say. “Can I please talk to you outside for a minute?”
“Anything you need to say to me you can say in front of Sloane,” he answers. “She’s practically family now that we’re living together.”
Sloane is beaming behind him, that smug, self-satisfied look that she’s obviously perfected.
“I really can’t, Nick. Please, I’m only asking for a moment of your time.”
Nick turns to Sloane. She nods and smiles at me, like I should be ever so grateful to her. I simply nod back. She won’t get a smile out of me. I kiss and hug each of my kids good-bye so I don’t have to come back into her sumptuous marble foyer and look at that bridal staircase, reminding me of what I’ll never have.
Once Nick and I are outside on Sloane’s massive stoop, I cut right to the chase. “Nick, were you serious earlier when you said you wanted to fight me for custody?”
He just stare
s at me for a moment, his crystal blue eyes confused. And then he shakes his head and chuckles a bit, an incredibly irritating chuckle. How can he possibly make light of something so serious? “Nah, I won’t drag you through that. I know the kids are the only thing you have left. You don’t even have your dignity after that display yesterday.”
“I was protecting our child, asshole. That’s more than you can say you’ve ever done,” I snap and immediately realize it was a bad idea.
“Really, Max? I could change my mind. You’re acting so unstable lately, maybe I should.”
“Look, Nick—I’m upset and rightfully so. You’ve screwed me over so royally, and now you’ve been talking about taking my kids from me.”
“They’re my kids, too, don’t forget.”
“Oh believe me, I never forget that. And I’ve done everything I can to make sure that you still get to spend time with them. A lot of moms in this situation wouldn’t let their kids spend time with their father and his whore girlfriend at all.”
Nick glares at me and I say sweetly, “Oops, did I just call Sloane a whore? Well, if the Jimmy Choo fits, wear it.”
“You know, Max—I really would get into a custody battle with you, especially since you’re being so nasty, but Sloane and I are going to have our hands full come spring.”
“What does that mean?”
“Sloane’s pregnant, Max. The kids are going to have a half-brother or sister. Isn’t it fantastic? I’m so happy, I don’t even care that you’re being such a bitch.”
Of course. How did I not see this coming? I feel like I’m getting all speckly again. I have got to just breathe in and out slowly. “Why in the world would I find that fantastic, Nick?”
“Well, because I’d like to think that somewhere inside that cold heart of yours, you’d be happy for me. We were together for a long time.”
“Exactly—we were together for a long time, and then you left me for a woman whom you promptly knocked up. How far along is she, Nick?”
“Eleven weeks. We’re going to wait another week to tell the kids, but I figured I could tell you now. As much as you think I’m an asshole, I did think that you had a right to know.”
I hold on to the railing and sit slowly down on the stoop. “Eleven weeks? That means she got pregnant while we were still married.”
“We’re still married, Max. The divorce won’t be final for a while.”
“You know what I mean, Nick—she got pregnant while you were still living at our house and sleeping in our bed—with me.”
Nick softens a bit. “I’m sorry, Max. Really, I am. I know you think I don’t have any redeeming qualities, but this wasn’t planned.” Nick just gazes at me for a moment and I try not to get drawn into those blue, blue eyes. “For what it’s worth, Max, if you had taken me back, I would have ended things with Sloane.”
“Until you found out that she’s pregnant—then you’d get right back with her.”
“Maybe you’re right. You know I always do the right thing. I can’t marry Sloane, obviously, since we’re still married, but I married you when I found out that you were pregnant with Emma, didn’t I?”
“Do you regret that, Nick? Do you ever regret our whole relationship? Because I have to tell you, right about now I wish I never laid eyes on you. The only thing redeeming about you is that you’re the father of my four amazing children. Without you, they wouldn’t be here. But otherwise, you just suck.” I wish I could have come up with a better insult, but I am so blindsided by Nick’s news that I can’t think straight. Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe.
I slowly stand up and tell Nick, “You know what you can do for me?”
“What, Max? Seriously, I do feel bad about this, even if you think that I don’t.”
“Well, saying that it’s fantastic kind of makes it hard for me to believe that.”
“Sorry, I was just excited. You can understand that, right? I mean do you remember how exciting it was when you found out you were pregnant?”
I think Nick must be a complete fucking moron to not see why this is like a knife in my heart. At this point I don’t really even think he’s malicious, I think he’s just profoundly stupid. At least this proves without a doubt that I’m better off without him.
“Yes, Nick—I remember,” I say like I’m talking to a five-year-old. “This is what I need from you: a commercial cooling rack, a commercial mixer, packaging for cookies, and anything else you think would be useful for a cookie business.”
Nick looks skeptical. “A cookie business? You really think you can take that on now, Max?”
“I don’t think I can, Nick. I know I can. Now, can you get that stuff for me or not?”
“Yeah, I’ll get it for you. I’ll even give it to you for cost.”
“How kind of you, Nick. After everything, you’ll give it to me for cost.”
“Fine, I’ll just give it to you, period. I’ll eat the cost.”
“That’s better. Much happiness to you and Sloane on your new addition,” I manage to choke out.
I start down the stairs to leave, but turn back. “Oh, there’s one more thing that you must do for me.”
“What is it, Max?” Nick asks wearily.
“Don’t ever threaten to take my kids away again or I will make your perfect little life with Sloane a living hell. I’ll be the vengeful ex-wife, and I’ll make sure that you don’t get the kids at all. I will fight you every step of the way and I will win. Understand?” I’d really like to add, And, I will rip your head off and shit down your neck, but that would probably just make Nick call me unstable again.
I don’t bother to wait for Nick’s answer. I just leave him staring at me, his mouth slightly agape. With one backward glance, I hop in my minivan—my silver chariot—and speed away. Okay, I pull away from the curb slowly after checking my rearview mirror, but speeding away fits better into my badass fantasy.
***
When I get home I walk slowly into my darkened, eerily quiet house. I’m hungry, but nothing appeals to me. I stand in front of the open freezer and just stare, the light throwing shadows into the kitchen. I think I’m still in shock from Nick’s bombshell. How could he have possibly gotten Sloane pregnant while he was still sleeping with me, still having sex with me? Shouldn’t I have had some sort of intuition, something telling me my husband was procreating, whether accidental or not, with someone else?
No food seems appealing, so I just sit at the table, head down. But suddenly, I realize that I did have an intuition—I did have a feeling that something was going on. That’s why I made the video—in an attempt to keep Nick from cheating, not realizing that it was too late. I must have known deep down inside that something was going on. I had that uneasiness. Even with Ben, I felt so guilty for years that I was jealous for no reason, but he really was thinking of cheating on me. I knew.
It’s an amazing feeling realizing that I wasn’t duped by Nick as much as I thought I was—I just wasn’t ready to admit my suspicions to myself. Or maybe because I thought I was wrong about Ben decades earlier, I just pushed my suspicions aside. But I can tell when someone is cheating on me or even thinking of cheating on me—which means that I can also tell when someone isn’t going to cheat on me. When that niggling What if he strays? feeling is gone, I know I can trust with my whole heart.
“So, what about Ben?” I ask quietly into the dusky kitchen. I don’t know whom I’m expecting to answer me. I do think I can trust him, but is it too soon for me to move on after Nick’s betrayal? I contemplate this for a moment as darkness falls fully through the house.
Nick is firmly in his new life—quicker than I ever would have thought possible. I’m pretty sure he left our marriage emotionally way before he left it physically. If I’m being honest with myself, I think I may have, too. I don’t think either one of us was really in love anymore. That’s impossibly sad, but freeing as well. If my marriage was over for far longer than a month, I’m not moving on too quickly if I give Ben a chance now.
And I really believe Ben when he says he’d never betray me. Maybe, just maybe my heart can trust again.
Suddenly, I’m ravenous. I turn on the lights and pull out a piece of pizza left over from last week from the freezer. I’m about to stick it in the toaster oven when my phone chimes with a message. I pick it up—it’s a video from Ben. My heart’s in my throat as I click on it and he fills the screen. He’s sitting on a kitchen stool, strumming his guitar. I recognize the song from the first chords. Instantly, I’m back in a smoky bar—we’d just had a fight, one of our huge blowouts over nothing, really. I saw Ben talking to a girl before the show and I accused him of flirting. He accused me of being overly jealous, and of course he was right. They were just talking, but I was twenty-one and already had a few too many beers. I watched Ben smile at the girl, a very pretty brunette, and the memory of being cheated on a few years earlier came crashing down. I couldn’t help myself.
I walked out of the bar—for just a moment. When I came back and made my way to the front of the stage, I could see the anguish on Ben’s face as he stood above me, pausing for a moment before launching into his first song. It killed me to know that I caused his pain. His band always began the set with an original and saved the few covers they played for the end. But this time he launched right into Don’t Walk Away by Bad English—a late eighties power ballad that he knew I loved. After it was done he pointed at me and said over the applause, whoops and screams, “That’s for you, Max. Never walk away from me, please.”
“Never,” I mouthed. And I believed it with all my heart. I never thought I’d walk away from Ben.
He’s singing the same song now, and even with him on my phone and not in front of me, I feel exactly as I did then, hearing those words—that voice. I never want to cause Ben pain again, and I never want to walk away again. My eyes fill with tears as he sings—urging me to remember us.
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