by Mignon Mykel
“Jordan…”
“Marlo. Please.”
I shook my head even though I was conceding. “Fine. I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”
The entire drive from the school back to my place, my mind was racing.
No calls.
No letters.
No visits.
No calls.
No letters.
No visits.
Again and again, I replayed the words.
Again and again, the vision of Jordan with Rori overtook those words.
Five years, Marlo. Five years of hurt. He can’t just erase it by wanting to spend time Rori now.
I nodded to myself. Yes. Yeah, that.
I pulled into the drive, noticing Jordan’s truck for the first time. He had it parked along the curb. Slowing to a stop, my eyes moved toward the porch.
There he sat.
He didn’t move to stand, but I could read the energy running through his body. Could feel his stare through the distance.
Some things never change…
I could still read him. I still knew him.
But you don’t. The Jordan you knew wouldn’t have walked away from his family. The Jordan you knew would have at least fought for Rori.
Hell, the Jordan you knew wouldn’t have left you.
With a deep breath, I unbuckled my belt and made myself get out of my Accord.
Made myself walk over the lawn and up the three porch stairs.
But I couldn’t make myself close the distance between him and I.
My feet were glued to their spot at the top of the steps.
Now, Jordan stood, and with the movement, my heart started to race.
It had been easy to be pissed at him at the indoor playground. It was even easier to be pissed at the hospital. And the easiest? When I called and he still ignored the call.
But right now…
“What do you want, Jordan?” I managed to force out. “I still haven’t gone through your messages.”
“Will you sit?”
Not what I was expecting, and it must have been written on my face.
“I want to talk, and I’m not talking a quick conversation, deciding when I’m picking up Rori tomorrow. I made some…realizations last night.”
I looked back over my shoulder. I knew my neighbors would be at work but just in case, it would probably be best if we went inside.
“Would you like to come in?” I asked, looking back at him, only to catch him staring at me.
This time, it was me who threw him.
“Uh. Yeah. Sure.” He nodded a few times before stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Probably better than out in the open.”
I forced a tight smile and dropped my eyes from his, no longer comfortable under his green-eyed scrutiny. Moving my feet, I went to the door and unlocked it.
For the briefest of moments, I was embarrassed for Jordan to see the house I was raising Rori in. The house Jordan and I had bought hadn’t been grandeur by any means, but it was a number of steps up from this little cottage I was in.
It worked for Rori and me.
It was quaint. Cute.
And was perfectly described by the pallet sign I hung in the hall: “Love grows best in little houses, with fewer walls to separate.”
The quote continued, speaking of communication and more room making it impossible for time missed. I liked it because it made me feel better about this small house.
I liked it for its irony.
I hung my keys up on the peg and toed off my Keds, trying not to notice Jordan as he walked in and shut the door behind him.
“Water?”
“No, I’m good.” His voice told me he was right there. Right behind me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in, trying again to focus on the negative.
I needed to focus on the negative when he was around, because without it, the one thing that resonated was:
I missed him.
“Marlo—”
“Let’s sit,” I interrupted, moving away with long strides, needing the distance. I sat in the couch corner, making myself small by drawing my knees up. Jordan remained in his spot, watching me, until I finally lifted my eyes to his.
It was then that he moved. My lips pinched and I swallowed hard, watching him as he moved. I was relieved when he chose to sit on the sofa rather than the other end of the couch. I couldn’t do this with him that near.
“We both made mistakes,” he started, hunched over with his forearms braced on his jean-clad thighs. His eyes were locked on mine and once again, I could feel as he stared right through me. He always saw the deepest parts of me and when we were kids, I loved it. Now that we had years between us…I wasn’t sure how I felt. Uncomfortable wasn’t quite right, but the joy I had once upon a time wasn’t right, either. “You and I both know this.”
I opened my mouth to refute his statement. I called. I tried.
But Jordan held up his hand. “Please, Marlo.” His voice was soft, the timbre vibrating as his voice dropped. “I can only take responsibility for my actions, for what I had done. Some things…” Now, he looked down and he moved his jaw sharply to the side. “Some things were brought to light last night.”
I remained quiet.
“Five years ago—”
“I’m well aware of what happened five years ago,” I interrupted. I didn’t want to rehash the night he walked away. The weeks after. The year after.
“Marlo.” Jordan lifted his eyes to mine again. “Let me talk.” As badly as I wanted to be the hurt one, I saw a wealth of it in his gaze right then.
So, I gave him his silence.
“Five years ago, around our anniversary, I was having a bad night. Bad game, sure, but only because I couldn’t get my mind off you. Of Rori. Everything I thought I wanted…was nothing. I was debating calling you, texting you. I needed to hear your voice.” He chuckled dryly. “I was drunk but I knew what I wanted. My teammate took my phone from me. Messed with it. I didn’t even realize…” His voice trailed off as he looked back to the floor. “Shit, Marlo. It took Winski to point out the fucking obvious, but Mac altered your phone number.”
I hugged my knees tighter to my chest, staying quiet. That kind of explained the lack of calls from him, but I’d had the same number for years. Hell, I could still recite his number in my sleep.
Jordan sat back, falling into the cushions as he pushed his thumb and fingers into his eyes. “And then he blocked it.” With his hand still over his eyes, he shook his head. “How did I fucking miss that? Last night…” He dropped his hand and slowly opened his eyes, but fixed them ahead rather than at me. If I followed his gaze, I’d know he was looking at a canvas of Rori I had on the wall. “I listened to years of messages last night, Mar.”
Mar.
My heart kicked at the name and I swallowed hard.
I couldn’t give in. I couldn’t just let his confession be enough.
“It doesn’t take five years to realize a phone number has been altered, Jordan,” I managed to say quietly.
“I haven’t hand-dialed your number in years. But that’s on me. I should have...” His sigh was heavy. “I don’t know. It just…it made everything make sense. Not hearing about you selling the house until months later. Not knowing about things that happened to Rori, months later.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t make up for a lot of other things, hell, it doesn’t really make up for anything but it is what it is. I should have tried a different phone. I should have stuck around when I flew out here to see you. I should have worked harder to get you on the line, when I was doing video chats with Rori. A lot I should have done. Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty, though.”
He stood then, looking down at me. “I just wanted to tell you. And to say that I’m sorry. I should have realized. Five years is a really damn long time, and I’m admitting that the way I behaved, the way I let those years go, it was childish. I just…” He shook his head again. “I don’t want the strain between us, Marlo. My mistakes are min
e. The consequences, mine. But I’ve always wanted to be in Rori’s life and I hope that we can move past it all, and learn how to co-parent.”
“Okay.” I didn’t move other than to look up at him.
“Okay.” He nodded. “Is it still okay for me to pick up Rori in the morning? Can I have her for the day?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I unfolded myself and bunched and released my fists in my lap a few times. “What time were you thinking?”
“Ten?”
I nodded. “Okay.” I wanted to give rules, but I needed to trust that Jordan would have it under control. Like he said, five years was a long time, and I couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that the missed connection was due to my number being altered and blocked—how did he not notice?—but he was right.
We needed to move past it and learn how to co-parent.
It was long past due.
Jordan
That went easier than I expected.
The entire time Marlo was out with Rori, I worried about what I was going to tell her.
What fucking man didn’t realize missing calls and calls that weren’t connecting, was due to things other than the person on the other end?
I hit my steering column in anger at myself.
Five fucking years, I went without my daughter.
All because of fucking Mac, and a night of drinking.
Last night, I found the blocked messages box on my phone and spent the last half of the flight listening through a shit ton of messages from Marlo.
When they moved.
When Rori was sick.
There were even a few messages from the first year, where almost all she did was cry on the phone.
It fucking broke me.
Those messages turned to her yelling.
Which turned to her quiet words, her scathing words, the ones that told me I was good for nothing.
There were a few months between messages, then.
Calls about something Rori did.
Calls where only Rori’s babbles filled the line.
I was a fucking goner then. I cried on a plane filled with men; cried for the years lost due to my own stupidity.
I should have looked into the missing calls.
I knew Marlo was better than that.
I should have never fucking left.
As I drove to practice, I couldn’t help but think…
There’d always been Winski. I should have grown a fucking set and asked him. Seen why the calls weren’t connecting.
Instead, I let him say her name, say Rori’s name, and punished myself by knowing my friend had pieces of my life.
And I let it all go.
So many mistakes.
So many years of anger.
Anger toward a girl—a woman—I knew was better than the ignoring, the pushing back, the pushing away.
I pulled into the garage at the arena, needing to start focusing on hockey. Marlo and I were a long way from fixed, and I could easily let our problems take up all my headspace.
I knew I wasn’t going to get my wife back, but maybe, in time, I could get back my friend.
“Again!” Coach yelled from against the boards, whistle hanging out of his mouth.
We were ending practice by running suicide drills; skating from goal line to blue line and back. To center and back. To the other blue line and back. Then the entire length of ice and back.
“Quicker, guys!”
My heart was pounding in my chest as I sprinted down the ice, the blade of my stick leading the way. I was slightly behind Caleb, and head-to-head with Winski.
Walking into the locker room earlier was like walking into a thick mass of…something.
It was awkward as fuck.
Strained.
Winski hadn’t said a word to me.
I slid to a stop at the far goal line so I could head back the other direction. I took the speed and tried to work out my problems. I needed to focus on the game. On the team.
“Good, guys.” Coach skated to another zone and blew his whistle. “Over here, men.”
The team moved and I took a knee in front.
“Good practice. Tomorrow’s game is against Seattle. Let’s not take their current one and five and think it’s going to be an easy game. Barring illnesses, our healthy scratches will be Winski and Byrd. You all know that Trenton is still on injured reserve but he may be cleared to play Sunday. If that’s the case, I’ll be adding another healthy scratch.”
It sucked that I’d only been back in the Enforcers’ locker room for two weeks and already I was sitting a game out, but I understood that actions came with consequences, and fighting against your teammate was frowned upon.
“You men are free to go. Byrd, stay back.”
Everyone left and I moved to stand. “Yeah, Coach?”
“I saw glimpses of the old Jordan at practice today. I need you to keep your head on straight.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You and Winski clear the air?”
I shook my head. “Nah. No, not yet. There’s…other things at play.”
“It’s affecting your play. You need to fix it.”
“Yes, sir.”
He stared at me a moment, before his dismissal. “You can go.”
I nodded and skated away. I wasn’t sure how to fix things with Winski. I still wasn’t sure what was going on with him and Marlo, but I wasn’t exactly sure how to broach that subject.
Asking would make it appear that I was jealous.
Envious.
Aren’t you?
No.
Yes.
I stepped through the boards and headed toward the dressing room.
Something to think about.
The next morning, I headed to Marlo’s, arriving promptly at ten.
Nine-fifty, really.
I didn’t want anything to shatter what slight ease we found between us yesterday.
I sat in my truck for five minutes, taking in the little house she called home.
White with teal shutters, it was one of the nicer-looking homes on the street. She kept the yard clean and clear of clutter, and only Marlo’s car—no bicycles or scooters—sat in the drive. Other houses had carports, but not Marlo’s.
The porch was fenced in yet I could still see the two large planters she had. It looked as if she planted a few more flowers yesterday; there was more color in one of the planters than when we last talked.
Looking at the time again, I decided I wasn’t too early anymore, and slipped out of the truck. I took long strides to cross over the grassy yard, and cleared her three porch steps in two. I lifted my fist to knock on the door, taking a deep breath before connecting knuckles to wood.
And then I waited.
Even though I talked with Marlo yesterday, I found myself nervous.
To spend time with Rori, I tried to convince myself, but I knew better.
Now that I figured out the missing link, the reason for the distance between my ex and I, I was hellbent on fixing everything else. A part of me had always missed her, but being back in San Diego… The feeling grew ten-fold.
It was going to take time though.
I couldn’t just expect to walk in her house and erase my mistakes. Marlo wasn’t one to hold a grudge but some hurts you couldn’t just ignore and wish gone.
On the other side of the door, I heard a high pitch screech, then giggling.
“Rori!” I heard Marlo call out, and I closed my eyes, trying to imagine being on the other side of this two-inch door.
I could see it.
I could see Rori running around, and Marlo chasing her.
Rori cuddling in my lap as Marlo leaned into my side.
Marlo and me watching over Rori as she slept.
I could see life as if I hadn’t left it all behind.
The door opened, pulling me from my reverie.
“Sorry. She’s excited,” Marlo apologized, holding the door open not quite wide enough. She shifted and I looked down, spotting fe
et dancing around Marlo’s.
I couldn’t stop my grin if I tried. “Hey, Rore,” I told the feet, which resulted in giggles.
“She needs a booster seat. You don’t have one, do you?” Marlo asked, and I looked back up at her.
I hadn’t even considered…
Already, I was off to a bad start. “Um, no. Sorry. I don’t.”
She shook her head. “It’s okay. She has an easy in-and-out one.” She stepped back a bit and talked over her shoulder. “Rori, I asked you to put on your shoes.”
“Yes, momma.”
Finally, Marlo stepped back to allow me in. “You can come inside. We tried to be ready on time but time got away from us.” She looked down and I got the feeling she was flustered.
Maybe a little bit nervous herself.
“Not a big deal. We have nothing pressing.” I stepped inside and reached for the door, closing it behind me.
“Can I ask what you guys are doing?” Marlo asked, moving to crouch down by our daughter, sitting on a bench.
“I thought maybe the aquarium.”
Marlo glanced up briefly from helping Rori with her tennis shoes. “She loves the aquarium. She’ll have fun.”
“I love the stingrays!” Rori piped up, kicking her free foot back and forth.
“They’re pretty cool, aren’t they?” I smiled down at her.
When Marlo finished, she tapped Rori’s knees and my little girl jumped up from her perch. “Let’s go!”
“Hold up, sport.” I reached my hand out, putting it on the crown of her head. “Is there anything I need to know? You want her back by a certain time?”
“We do dinner at five, so if you can have her back by then…”
I nodded. “I can do that.” So far, this co-parenting thing was going smoothly.
Maybe we’d make it, after all.
“I’ll come out with you. Help with her booster,” Marlo said, slipping on sandals.
I reached for the door and opened it, waiting for both girls to walk through. I pulled it shut behind us and stayed a few steps behind, taking in the two of them.
Rori really was Marlo’s mini-me. Everything about that little girl was her mother. The way she walked, the way she talked.
The way she looked at me, too, was similar to a way Marlo once did.