All the Difference

by Leah Ferguson

  “I don’t know.” Scott shrugged. “Does it matter?” He glanced at Dylan, whose eyes had opened while they were talking, and strode over to the staircase before taking the steps to the second floor two at a time. Molly was quiet for a long while. Hurt tumbled down her throat and into her belly like a waterfall, splashing there before spreading out, until it filled every cell in her body with the knowledge that she’d been trying to keep from rising like floodwaters for the past few months, or even years.

  It was never going to get better. They were never going to be okay.

  “Molly.” Jenny’s voice was clearer now. Molly’d forgotten she still had the phone up to her ear. “Is this worth it?”

  Molly closed the lid to her laptop. She didn’t feel like shopping after all.

  “We have a baby, Jenny.” She sighed, her tone even, willing the activity in her mind to abate. She stretched her legs out on the floor and noticed that her yoga pants were starting to get threadbare in the knees.

  “Well, I’d like to know you’ll be okay until I see you again.”

  “I’ll be fine, Jenny. I have it under control. Don’t spend your vacation worrying about me.” Molly took a shaky breath, surprised by the sudden stab of fear she felt. “Are you guys going to be away for long?”

  Jenny made an mm-hmm sound into the phone. “We’ll be visiting Dan’s dad and his stepmom for the rest of the month.”

  The fear turned to panic when Molly realized she wouldn’t have her best friend around for two weeks. She stood to pick Dylan up from the seat and held her close. Her thoughts were competing with one another, coming fast and hard. She didn’t realize that she was rocking back and forth in place.

  “You’ll be in Connecticut, right?” Molly tried to make her voice even. “They just got a ton of snow up there, I heard. And bonus for getting to hang out with Dan’s folks.”

  “I know—they’re just the coolest parents in the world, aren’t they? I’m fantasizing about winter wonderlands and sleigh bells, and Dan’s been talking nonstop about finally teaching me to ski.” Jenny paused. “And it’ll be nice to get away from Operation Procreation for a little bit.”

  “I totally agree.” Molly was pacing on the living room rug. “And I’m not even the least bit jealous.”

  Jenny had been rustling some papers. The noise suddenly stopped. “Oh, no. Don’t tell me. What are you guys up to?”

  “He’s insisting that we spend Christmas with his family.”

  Jenny was silent for a moment, then she said, “Wait a minute. He’s never around and does nothing for you, but now you have to ditch your family to hang out with his? Do his parents even care about seeing Dylan?”

  “Yeah, they do,” Molly said. “A bit too much, actually. They love her. She’s the second coming of Scott.”

  “So you’re going to let him bully you into that, even with what happened the last time? I don’t get it.” Jenny’s voice rose higher. “Are you trying to get pregnant again?”

  Molly had stopped walking. She stood in the middle of her living room, staring at the television. Rocky was watching his son get browbeaten by his boss. Molly’s body faced the door, her muscles tensed.

  “God, no! I’m just trying to keep the relationship alive, friend. Gotta give the dying horse one more good kick in the ribs, you know?”

  “Molly, his parents are dreadful. You’re torturing yourself.”

  “Ah, they’re not that bad. Monica’s worked to make a good life for her family. You have to respect that.” Molly was still standing in place, her mind not fully focused on the conversation.

  Jenny snorted. “Yeah, because Scott turned out really well. Is this the same Monica who once assumed Dan was part of the string quartet at a party? She’s sort of—”

  “—not too graceful, I know. I’ll give you that. It took me a while to realize that about her,” Molly said. “Too busy being dazzled by all the shiny jewelry and fancy cars.”

  Jenny was silent. “Well, I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “As you sip your hot toddy with Dan beside the fireplace at some chic ski lodge?” Molly forced out a laugh. “You better not be.”

  Jenny chuckled, but it was a quiet sound, more reserved than her usual throaty laugh.

  “Well, have a good Christmas, Mol. Let’s sit down after the holidays and hash out the next step in our job-searching, okay? Because I know you won’t let Scott keep you penned up in there too much longer.”

  Molly shifted on her feet and looked at Dylan, who had dozed off again in her arms. One day. One day soon. “You’re still looking for another job?”

  “Of course.” Jenny laughed. “If I have to itemize one more receipt at that damn bank I’m going to end up stapling myself in the head.”

  After they said their good-byes, Molly placed her phone in her bag and laid a calm Dylan in her portable crib, spinning the mobile overhead as a distraction. She turned up the volume on the television just in time to catch her favorite scene in all the Rocky movies, a speech she remembered her brothers quoting from memory after she’d gone with them to see it over her winter break senior year. Rocky had just launched into his son with a lecture of epic proportions, and Molly sat down to watch it. There was always one line in particular she loved to hear her brothers recite: “If you know what you’re worth,” they’d shout, punching the air with glee, “then go out and get what you’re worth.” Molly had heard the same speech over and over again for a month that winter. She’d always rolled her eyes at their enthusiasm, but not today.

  Today, Molly thought about her conversation with Jenny and Dan over cheesesteaks in October. She thought about the exhaustion of caring for Dylan by herself while picking up after Scott. She remembered broken promises, and impatient yelling, and getting to know a man who was as shiny and fast as the Porsche he drove but with the same unyielding shell. Molly’d been depending on a lifetime with a man she wasn’t even sure she wanted to marry. She had to realize that a man wasn’t like a house—no one should sign the papers when all she’s considering is his potential. A fixer-upper is still going to have pipes that leak, and a roof that’s collapsing, and a foundation crumbling beneath her feet, all of them problems she must learn to live with because she’d already committed to the loan. Molly jumped out of an airplane once without being able to see where she was going. She wasn’t going to do it again.

  Molly thought about this, thought about going out and getting what she was worth, all while she was sitting on a couch that smelled like the greasy potato chips Scott always dropped behind the cushions, picking at a hole in her sweatpants because, like a blind woman, she’d been counting on Scott to walk with her down a road she was never meant to be on to begin with.

  Molly turned off the television and laid a protective hand on Dylan’s belly, feeling the soft rise and fall of her stomach with each of her breaths. Once she was sure the baby would remain content, occupied with the shadows dancing in the corner of the Pack ’n Play, Molly picked her way up the stairs, her feet landing on each step with a firm purpose.

  Scott was sitting in front of the laptop, as he did most days at home now when he wasn’t watching TV. He was surrounded by piles of hospital paperwork and unpaid invoices, playing a game, swearing as he frantically jabbed at the keyboard.

  Molly stood at the edge of the desk, waiting for him to glance in her direction. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice when she spoke. She thought of Rocky dressing down his son in the middle of a Philadelphia sidewalk and braced herself.

  “Scott, I thought of something.”

  Scott cursed under his breath as a figure on the computer screen blew up in a mess of blood and machine guns.

  “Huh?” he said, eyes still focused on the screen. “Can we talk about it later? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

  “It’s pretty important.”

  He kept clicking
away at the touch pad of the laptop, muttering under his breath.

  “Scott. We’re supposed to be getting married, right?”

  “Yeah. What, are you still worried about the flowers for the church? I told you my mom was insisting on roses.” He was dressed as if he could pop out to dinner at a moment’s notice in his dry-cleaned sweater and perfectly slouched jeans. “Take it up with her.”

  “That’s not it,” Molly said. “You moved in here because we got engaged and had a baby, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it’s important to you that I be a stay-at-home mom, right?”

  “Well, one of us has to do it, and I’m the one who has a job.”

  Molly reeled back like she’d been punched. She’d been with Scott for three years. Three years with him, and still, she stood there, shocked into a momentary silence: How did I miss this?

  Molly moved over to the dresser that stood against the far wall and pulled out a pair of jeans and an oversized sweater. She could feel her body shaking as she changed clothes. She brushed her hair and pulled it back into a neat ponytail, refusing to pay attention to how dry her mouth felt. When she turned around again, her hands automatically clenched at her sides. She found it difficult to look directly at Scott’s face, but forced herself to do so. She kept looking at him, kept the pressure of her gaze trained at his head, and started talking again, because she knew that at some point he would have to listen.

  “Scott.” Molly’s voice was firm. “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Mmm,” he replied. His eyes were locked on to his game. “Can’t do what anymore?”

  “This, Scott.” Molly’s exasperation weighted every word. “Us. I can’t live like this anymore.”

  “Wait, what? What’s the problem?”

  Molly was breathing hard. “There are a few of them. For one thing, I’ve decided that I’m tired of you mooching off of me.”

  She had his attention now. Scott pushed his chair away from the computer and turned to look at Molly. His eyebrows were pulled together, dark over his green irises.

  “What did you just say?”

  She repeated herself, louder this time, her voice firmer. “I’m tired of you mooching off of me. It stops now.”

  Scott laughed. “Me, mooching off of you?” He shook his head. “You’re kidding me, right, Molly? Aren’t you the poor one?”

  “Yeah, I am,” Molly said, “because of you. And I don’t know how it’s taken me this long to realize it. You insist that I stay home, yet I’m still the one paying the rent on this house. I’m the one watching her savings disappear, even though I’m engaged to a man who can afford to lie around the house in a seven-hundred-dollar sweater. You live here full-time, but haven’t paid a dime toward the place.” She paused to catch her breath. “You were never going to add me to your bank account, were you?”

  Scott didn’t say a word.

  “I want you to start paying rent.”

  Scott was staring at her now, his eyebrows raised. Molly saw the surprise in his eyes and felt emboldened.

  “Actually, back-rent, for the last eleven months you’ve been here, and money to help pay for Dylan’s clothes,” she continued. “And I need to have access to the bank account if I’m going to be the one taking care of the bills and groceries.”

  She took a moment to look at him, making sure not to break eye contact. “I don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you? I mean, considering that we’re a family now and all.”

  Scott stood up. She used to love how tall he was, and strong, before the day it started to scare her. Now she just saw him, his chest at her eye level, and envisioned a wall. He was a wall, not big enough to block her way, and definitely not so big it couldn’t be scaled. The computer game was on pause behind him, the voices of the gun-wielding soldiers yelling over and over again.

  “We’re getting married, Molly. I’m not paying rent to my wife.” Scott’s legs were planted wide as he stood between the computer and the bed, next to the door. “As it is, do you really think your name’s going to be on the mortgage? My parents already have their lawyers working up papers for the landlord. I’m going to control the money.”

  Molly bent over to slip her feet into her boots, careful not to take her eyes off Scott for too long. She felt sick to her stomach.

  “This is ridiculous.” Scott’s face was red. “You’re home all day anyway. You shouldn’t need money, unless you’re renting some hotel room somewhere when I’m not looking. I’m sure you’ve got old Liam on speed dial.”

  Molly just shook her head in response. She’d heard it before.

  She nodded toward the desk. “That’s my computer. The cable you watch all the time on TV? I pay for it. The food you keep pulling out of the fridge while you leave the door hanging wide open? I buy that, too. And I’m finished buying it. You don’t get a free pass anymore. Not from me, anyway.”

  “This is bullshit, Molly.”

  “I don’t think so.” Molly was fully dressed now and standing tall. “We have a daughter you need to pay attention to. We have a house to keep clean for her, and a college fund to discuss, and preschools to look into before she gets wait-listed. It’s time to be a grown-up, Scott.”

  “I’m not buying into any of this,” Scott said. “You liked me just fine a few months ago. I think something’s going on with you.

  “You cheating on me?” he said. “Got somebody else you think is better?”

  “I really wish you’d stop accusing me of that.” Molly sighed. “I can’t believe you think I’d even have the energy to cheat, even if I wanted to.”

  “Well, something’s making you feel pretty good about yourself to make you think you can start bossing me around.”

  “No, I’m on my own, here, saying that you can’t walk all over me.” Molly’s anger continued to boil, but now she could barely contain a smile threatening to sneak onto her face. “Why do you automatically assume it’s another guy? I’m getting a real job again, one in PR.”

  “Yeah. Good luck with that,” Scott said.

  “I’ve got two interviews lined up for next week.” Molly watched Scott’s face for a reaction. He said nothing.

  “And as for us?” Molly continued. “I’m finished taking your crap.”

  He was shaking his head, muttering under his breath.

  “Scott.” He looked up at her, his eyebrows pulled together in angry confusion. “This part is over. I’m taking Dylan to my parents’ for the weekend.” Molly pulled the bag she kept packed for visits home out of the closet and hoisted it onto her shoulder.

  Molly looked around the room, at the piles of his clothes dropped like used tissues in the corners of the room. “You can use the time alone to pack up your stuff and leave. I want you out of my house.”

  Scott stood in place, running his hand through his hair. Molly could see him thinking, reaching for some plan of attack, but she stepped to the door before he could make his move. Dylan had started crying for her from the living room, ready for a meal and some comfort from her mother. Molly slid around him and was about to step over the threshold to the hallway when she glanced sidelong at Scott. He’d started to sputter in indignation, and she knew he wouldn’t block her way. The computer game was still making its machine-gun sounds, punctuating the tense air with the screams of some invisible character getting blown up, over and over again, as it repeated its loop. Molly leaned over, slammed the lid of the computer closed, and walked calmly down the stairs to her daughter.

  EPILOGUE

  New Year’s Eve

  Molly sat in her parked car on a densely tree-lined street in Merion Station, staring at the brick facade of a sprawling home. A half-moon driveway encircled an intricate English garden and brick wall. It lay between her and the front door. Dylan had fallen asleep on the drive, and Molly took a moment before disturbing her, trying to p
sych herself up to go ring Scott’s parents’ bell. She told herself that she only had to stay a couple of hours. She’d made sure that his parents had known ahead of time that she’d have to get home and let Dylan rest before Jenny and Dan’s party tonight, so her early departure was already cleared. Now it was just a matter of going in.

  Molly took one last deep breath and checked her makeup in the rearview mirror before getting out of the used Outback. She’d used a heavy hand to spackle concealer under her eyes, but there was no hiding the dark moons that seemed omnipresent on her skin. She took Dylan’s carrier gently out of the backseat, hoisted the heavy red quilted diaper bag over her shoulder, and gingerly walked up the path. It was the first time she’d worn heels since she’d entered her third trimester, and as soon as she’d stepped into them Molly had understood why most young moms she saw wore flats. It was an occupational hazard to even attempt to navigate stone pavers on stilettos while balancing a car seat. Molly picked her way through the garden, focused on not toppling over into Scott’s parents’ lawn.

  Molly rang the bell beside the front door of the narrow entranceway, marveling at how such a massive home could possess such an unwelcoming, cramped front porch. She knew that Scott had spent most of his life in this house, his parents having moved in right after Monica finished her architecture program and Scott’s father landed his job with the Eagles. Every surface inside had something interesting to look at, a vase or a piece of modern art framed to impress. Molly had never seen so much as a speck of dust on any of the furniture in the house, and the outside of the home was maintained to Stepford-like quality as well. None of the work, of course, was done by the Berkuses themselves. The boxwoods were trimmed into even squares along the front porch, and Molly noticed that the new evergreens planted in orderly little planters along the walk were well-tended and perfectly spaced. While the rest of the homes on this affluent street were adorned in white lights and tasteful wreaths for the holidays, here the trees were topped with so much gold garland and glittering ornaments it seemed the Berkus family was determined that their holiday spirit be witnessed from space.