by Melanie Ting
The drive home only took two minutes because we were almost next-door neighbours again. I walked into a completely empty house. Even Minx had been banished to my parent’s place until the movers had come and gone.
The first time a guy broke up with me, I was fifteen and completely heartbroken. Dane Owen, my boyfriend of two months and two days, told me he needed to concentrate on lacrosse (something I still don’t understand). I cried all night. The next day my mother, who was the world’s cruellest mother, forced me to go to school. I spent half the day in the girl’s washroom, attended to by whoever of my friends had spare at the time. I continued wallowing for a week, sporadically crying, not eating, and listening to the sappiest songs in the world. And then Greg Perkins asked me out. I said yes and felt immediately better.
But the thing about Brent leaving was that there was no wallowing time. There was no time when I could retire to my bedroom and turn my little nose up at the dinners my mother made. He left one night and then the next day, I had to get up, make breakfast, pack lunches, and try to explain away my puffy red eyes as allergies. At the beginning, I told the kids that their dad was on a business trip, but when he came back to get more clothes, I made him explain everything to the kids. After all, how could I explain something that I didn’t understand myself?
The kids were the reason I never got to completely break down. Instead, I broke down little by little and managed to keep things going. Was it better to wallow and get things out of my system or put on my big girl pants and get on with things? I’d never have the luxury of knowing.
And now, even though the kids were with Brent, I had so much to do before they got back. I had to clean, paint, and convert our rental house into a home. If this place was a mess when they walked in, it might make them regret the move.
I decided to give myself one night to wallow. One night to feel completely sorry for myself, and then I’d get on with everything. I laid out Sharon’s sleeping bag on the cleanest square of floor in my new bedroom and crawled inside.
I closed my eyes and thought about everything I loved about Leo. The way he constantly touched me when we together, holding my hand or rubbing my arm or shoulder. He made me feel sexy and desired. He was so strong, both physically and mentally. His firm opinions were very appealing to a waverer like me.
He was good to the kids. Tristan adored Leo and had so much fun practicing hockey at the cabin. I had been instructed to wrap Tristan’s new Lucky Luczak stick in bubble wrap until he got home. Hannah was more reserved, but Leo kept trying and I admired that too.
Leo was a perfectionist who defined himself by being a coach on the fast track to success. But what I loved most about him were his vulnerabilities: the way Charlotte could dismantle his resolve with a blink of her pretty eyes, his mangled clichés, and how easy he was to seduce. I even loved the nerdy way that he turned every analogy into hockey.
I loved his protective instincts. Leo wanted to fix everything—people, situations, and even crappy hockey teams. I had been broken when he met me, and he kept reassuring me how great I was—until I believed him. And why did he do all that? It wasn’t for sex, he could have hooked up with anyone. Maybe his coaching instincts were awakened by people like me who clearly need help. But he had to know that he couldn’t walk away from me like another hockey team. Breaking up with me would only break me down at the end.
Or would it? Leo swore that only the truth made people feel better. So every good quality he saw in me must be real. Anyway, my belief in myself wasn’t based in what Leo had said, it was based in the things I had done. I had changed. I was painting more and making good stuff. I had quit the art supply store, and now I was going to concentrate on better jobs. Working with Fiona in September. Finding a house to reno with Sharon. Oh, what about Amanda? Would she still want me to shop for her if I wasn’t Leo’s girlfriend? Of course, she would. She was an honest, reliable person, and we were well on the way to being real friends.
Feeling slightly comforted, I finally drifted off to sleep.
In the morning, I felt even worse. A sleeping bag on a hardwood floor was fine when you were hungover in your twenties, but forty-something bodies needed a real mattress with pillow tops and lumbar supports. I got up and stretched. My back was killing me. Maybe I needed a run in my new neighbourhood to get things loosened up. My running stuff was in the big suitcase from Saturna Island, so I dug it out and ran to Trout Lake and back. Awesome. Now my back hurt and my lungs were burning. I took a shower and pondered what to do next.
Make a list. If I kept busy, I wouldn’t have to keep reliving the loop of last night. What if I hadn’t used the word “love”? We could have kept going on for months if I hadn’t said anything. But it was how I felt. I went into the relationship under Leo’s terms, but now I wanted more. People change. At least I did.
I plugged in my ear buds and started listening to podcasts for distraction. The movers would be here this afternoon, so I had the rest of the morning to clean and paint. Then I’d have a ton of unpacking to do.
I could pull myself together before the kids got back. Because they’d already seen me fall apart completely when their father left, and they didn’t need to see that again. Or to find out that their mother needed a man to be happy.
When Brent first left, Tristan took it the hardest. His schoolwork, his sports, his friendships, everything was affected. So I had taken him to a therapist who specialized in kids. I had to sit in on the first sessions until the two of them developed a rapport. The biggest problem was that Tristan was completely inarticulate about how he felt, and Oscar had to find new ways to communicate. One day, he brought out this pain scale made up of simple faces with expressions on them. I had looked at the last face, a drawing with the features contorted and tears running down its cheeks. Isn’t there a face beyond that, I wanted to ask? Because I felt like someone stuck a knife in my guts, tore out a big piece of every vital organ, and then said, “Off you go, Jackie. See how you do.”
But it wasn’t as bad this time. How could I compare a marriage of fifteen years to a relationship of a few months? I couldn’t even blame Leo. He had warned me that he wasn’t the type to get serious. He had posted a big neon sign saying, “Don’t get too attached.”
But that wasn’t my nature. I put my heart out there. Someday I was going to find someone who appreciated that. I would be more discerning and not fall for the next good-looking guy who walked in wearing only a towel.
I shook my head to clear my worries and grabbed cleaning supplies. I wanted to be so exhausted that I’d fall into my actual bed tonight and sleep right away. Even with my fried brain, I was still able to go through the motions. Start from the top down, sweeping cobwebs off the ceiling, wiping down walls, baseboards, and then floors. Painting walls was something I loved. Refreshing the walls in new colours and making everything bright and new.
A new house where I got to make all the decorating decisions. Of course, I’d let the kids make choices for their rooms. A fresh start. I had to feel positive about a brand new start.
32
Leo the Liar
Leo
“Okay, chaton. We have to leave in fifteen minutes.” That was something I’d learned from Jackie: the early warning system. Saved a ton of fuss.
She looked up from her breakfast. “Is Jackie coming to the Aquarium?”
“Uh, no. She has to get her new house ready for the movers.” I hated lying to Charlotte, but she would be really upset to know we had broken up. The news could wait until she went home and got back into her own activities and friends. Time and distance would make Jackie and her kids less important.
“Jackie is definitely one of us. And so are Hannah and Tristan. Isn’t it funny that I was afraid to meet them?”
“I think you’re not afraid of so many things now,” I reassured her. Charlotte had grown in confidence this summer, and I was proud of her.
“I can’t wait to see what their new place looks like when it’s all fixed up.
Tristan said he’s going to get his own hockey mural.” She finished her cereal in the bowl I’d painted for her—from that evening with Jackie. Every goddamn thing in this apartment reminded me of Jackie. I put the bowl in the dishwasher.
“I’m coming here at Christmas, right?”
“Yeah, for sure.” I didn’t have my schedule yet, but this time I’d get my mother or a sister to come out and help take care of Charlotte. We’d manage somehow, we always had before.
“Papa, you’re going to be lonely here when I’m gone.”
I hugged her. “Always. I always miss you whenever we’re not together.”
“You should keep Mao. He can keep you company.” Her eyes were wide and hopeful. “You’re not going to return him, are you? He’s really happy here.”
“Well....” What was I going to do with a cat when I was gone on long road trips? He was supposed to be a temporary thing. If Sophie wasn’t allergic, I’d send him home with Charlotte. “Maybe your grand-maman can take him or something. I really can’t deal with a cat.”
“Papa.” She began to sniffle. “You can’t take him back! What if they give him to a mean family?”
Mao sauntered in at that moment, and Charlotte ran over and hugged him. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. “Poor Mao.”
“Okay, I’ll figure something out. Don’t cry, please.” I stroked her hair. It was wrong to give in when she cried, but her tears broke open something deep inside me at a time when I was already feeling vulnerable.
I’d hardly slept last night. I kept seeing Jackie’s face—tearful, twisted with pain—all because of me. I tried to comfort myself with my usual rationalization: no commitments were the rules going in. But things had been different right from the moment I met her. And it wasn’t only how attracted we were to each other. We meshed together in so many ways. It was easy to relax with her and easy to confide in her. And I liked taking care of her, being a comfort to her. That’s why seeing her in pain and being unable to do anything cut like a knife.
It was my fault. I knew from the moment I saw her how easily she would get attached. I should have kept my distance. Or not gone out with her once I understood her nature. But I couldn’t resist. The way she put her heart and her vulnerabilities right out there was appealing to me. We were so different.
Even her brokenness had been appealing. Maybe I should be congratulating myself. I had pushed her to be more confident, and now she was confident enough to know that I wasn’t enough for her. She needed someone who could give her a real future. That was exactly what she deserved.
Mao squirmed away, so Charlotte stood up. Her tears had stopped the moment I promised to keep the cat.
“Okay, go brush your teeth and wash your face,” I told her.
There was a knock on the door. At this time in the morning?
“I bet it’s Jackie,” Charlotte exclaimed and ran to open the door. That was exactly who I thought it might be as well, and my spirits rose.
“Oh hi, Sharon,” my daughter said. “Is Jackie with you?”
“Hi, pumpkin. No, she’s not.” Sharon was wearing coveralls and a big smile, which disappeared the moment she saw me. “I need to talk to your dad for a moment.”
“Okay.” Charlotte disappeared into the bathroom.
“Hi Sharon. How’s Jackie?” I kept my voice low.
Anger sparked off Sharon. “How the fuck do you think she is? Look, I’m just here to pick up her suitcase.” Sharon crossed her arms. I opened the closet where I had put Jackie’s overnight bag. I had hoped she’d come and get it herself.
Sharon reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled envelope. “She wanted me to return your key.”
I nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”
She rolled the suitcase out the door, but then turned back. “You’re a total piece of shit for hurting her. Jackie’s been through enough crap without something like this—from the first man she trusted since Brent.”
“I know. I know.” Sure, I’d reacted automatically when I heard her say the same words other girlfriends had said to me. But the difference this time was how real it all was. When Jackie hurt, I hurt too. Yet I wasn’t ever going to lead her on. I couldn’t give her everything she wanted.
Sharon searched my face. “You’re not the total robot I thought you were. Do you understand exactly what you’re losing here?”
“I know,” I repeated. Jackie was a million different women all wrapped in one. If I were going to settle down again, she would be exactly what I wanted. But now was not that time.
“It must be nice to be able to throw away what other people struggle for years to find,” Sharon concluded and then left.
Sophie arrived at our apartment after her workday was done. Charlotte went a little crazy when her mother walked in. She hugged her and insisted on giving her a complete tour of the place.
“It’s quite nice,” Sophie told me. “Much nicer than your other places.”
“Jackie decorated it,” Charlotte piped up. “That’s why there are colours and artwork.”
“I see,” said Sophie. I wasn’t sure what she thought of Jackie, but it didn’t matter now.
“It’s her job,” I explained. “That’s how we met.”
“Interesting,” Sophie replied. “Because it doesn’t look like an interior designer’s work. More like a personal home.”
“Yeah, that’s actually her job: furnishing places on a budget. She’s not an interior designer or anything.” It was embarrassing that I didn’t even know what Jackie’s job title was. I had taken her for granted in so many ways.
The three of us headed out for dinner. We drove to a Chinese place that Charlotte loved where we could watch the chef make noodles. It was Hannah’s favourite place, so naturally it was now Charlotte’s favourite.
Charlotte chattered away about the sea otters we saw today, and Sophie told us about her exciting sailing voyage. I realized it was the first time the three of us had gone out to eat in years. Before there was too much drama and bitterness, and I’d resented the way our marriage had ended. And perhaps she resented how much of the childcare she’d had to bear while I was free to pursue my career. Sophie was always complicated. But now maybe we could move past all that.
We drove to Sophie’s hotel. They were leaving in the morning, and I had Charlotte’s suitcases in the trunk. When we turned around and looked in the back seat, Charlotte was fast asleep. I took off my jacket and laid it over her.
“She’s had a busy time the past few days,” I explained.
Sophie smiled. “All this time together, I think it’s made you a better father.”
“I hope so. I thought I was a good dad before, but I wasn’t really doing any of the hard stuff. Everything that you’ve had to do all these years.”
Sophie shot me a look of surprise. “Wow. Merci.”
“She’s a great kid, that’s all on you.”
“Well, to be truthful, my mother and yours have helped a lot.”
She was in a great mood, so I decided to roll the dice. “Sophie, there’s something I want to ask you—just to consider. I know that you and Wes are trying to figure out where to live, and I’m wondering if there’s any possibility it could be here.”
Her brow furrowed. “Ici? En Vancouver?”
I nodded. “Yeah. You guys are opening a hotel here, right?”
“Oui, mais...” She turned the idea over in her mind.
“Or maybe, if you have to live in the States, it could be Seattle. Things are booming there, I’m sure there are hotel jobs.”
“What’s this really about, Leo?”
“I want to see Charlotte more often. She changes so much between visits, and she’s growing so fast. I want to be there for her all the time.” Sophie’s expression was unreadable, but at least she was listening. “I know it’s a lot to ask of you. But maybe it could be good for you too. If she was with me more often, you’d get more time alone with Wes. And if you guys have kids too....”
She frowned. I didn’t mean that Charlotte would be neglected, only that blended families need extra attention for all the kids.
Sophie shook her head. “Alors, why am I even considering this, as soon as we move here, you’ll be back out east.”
“No. I can promise you that if you move here, I won’t move for at least three years.”
“Mais, how can you promise that now? Especially when you’re so close to the NHL. What if Montréal called you?”
“Why would I go to Montréal if you and Charlotte were here? The biggest appeal is going home to my daughter, not my family or friends.” Our eyes met. “I’m changing, Sophie. I’ve seen the future, and I don’t want to be that lonely guy who put his job ahead of everything. I’m sorry I never realized this earlier.”
I paused and was shocked to see her eyes shining with tears. I patted her hand. “I get it now. I should have consulted you more before I accepted the job in Shawinigan. I was an ass.”
Sophie tilted her head, listening hard.
“But this new organization I’m with, I like them. They want me to coach the AHL team, but if it works out—and I’m gonna make sure it does—I can stay here and move up into their NHL organization too.”
I wasn’t giving up on my career, not after everything I’d already sacrificed. But I had realized that proving my team loyalty was important too. Staying in one place would be valuable to my career in the long term.
“Is all this about Jackie?” Sophie asked.
I shook my head and looked out into the city lights. “We broke up. I haven’t told Charlotte yet because I know she’ll be unhappy.”
“C’est dommage.” Sophie replied. “I liked her. Why did you dump her?”
“It’s not like that.” I hesitated. It felt like a betrayal to even talk about Jackie so soon. “Merde. It’s complicated. I compartmentalize everything. I wasn’t willing to give enough of myself.”