Mom Jeans and Other Mistakes

by Alexa Martin

  But Ben doesn’t know me.

  Not anymore.

  And the only one of us who is about to be surprised is him. The timid, weak woman who was afraid to cause waves is long gone. I’m a fighter and there is nothing I will fight harder for than my daughter.

  So yeah, he’s going to fucking learn. Lauren Turner is not going to roll over for him.

  Not this time.

  NINE

  • • •

  Lauren

  Every time I pull into the driveway at my parents’ house, it’s hard to remember that for the majority of my life, seeing the bright red door, perfectly manicured hedges, and white siding brought me comfort.

  This house is where I skinned my knees and cried until my mom put on a Band-Aid I probably didn’t need. I blew out the birthday candles on the homemade birthday cakes my dad insisted on making me every year. I had my first-ever sleepover with Jude. I took pictures on the first day of school and before dances.

  But now, it’s also the place where I told my parents I was pregnant and my mom stormed away, slamming the door so hard, one of her precious black porcelain figurines shattered across the spotless floors. It’s where I came to tell them I was dropping out of med school so Ben could focus on his career. It’s where I came crawling back after Ben and I broke up and Adelaide and I had nowhere else to go.

  It’s been three days since I got the custody papers from Ben. And now it’s where I’ll go to try to keep my daughter.

  Proving, once again, what a giant disappointment I am.

  “Nana!” Adelaide nearly comes out of her skin when she sees my mom’s head poke through the curtains. “Hurry, Mom! I have to show her my new dance! Nana loves my dances, Auntie Jude.”

  “I’m glad something brings her joy.” Jude flinches when I pinch the back of her arm. “I mean, of course she does!” The extra pep in her voice is a little much, but I’ll take it. “Everyone loves your dances.”

  “Better,” I mumble before unbuckling my seat belt and opening my door to go free Adelaide of her five-point harness.

  This time when I open the back door, Adelaide has both shoes on and the top buckle of her car seat unsnapped. “Is Papa home too? I made him a song.”

  I don’t have any proof, but I’m pretty sure I’m the least creative person in the entire world. I aced all my math and science classes growing up, but art? I struggled . . . hard. And art tutors aren’t a thing, my mom checked. So how I got this child who is rainbows, glitter, and show tunes is beyond me.

  “Yup, he’s here too. You’re going to play with him while Mommy, Auntie Jude, and Nana have a quick meeting, okay?” I push the bottom button of her car seat, which might as well be a launch button with how fast she jumps out.

  “Okay, Mommy!” she shouts over her shoulder as she rushes up the walkway to the porch, where my mom is now waiting for her. Her little body barrels into my mom, wrapping her little arms around her legs. “Nana! I missed you! Wanna see my dance?”

  “My sweet girl.” My mom peels Adelaide’s arms from her legs and lifts her up. The severe angles always apparent on my mom’s beautiful face soften, and laughter makes her harsh voice almost sound gentle and melodic. “I have to talk with your mom, but as soon as we’re done, I’d love to see your dance. Anyway, Papa’s got a surprise for you in the backyard.”

  I don’t have to see Adelaide’s face to know she has wide eyes and an even wider smile. “Surprises are my favorite.”

  “Then let’s go see what he got you.” She takes her eyes away from Adelaide, and just that quickly, every shadow is apparent on her wrinkle-free face as she makes eye contact with me for the first time. Her mouth tightens and she gives me a quick nod before turning on her heel and heading inside, closing the door behind her.

  “Holy shit.” Jude appears at my side, reminding me that she came along and I’m not the only one who’ll cause my mom’s jaw to clench today. “Who was that woman? Because it was not the Gloria Turner I know.”

  “Right? It freaks me out every time I see them together. Adelaide has magic woven into her DNA. Nobody can stay mad around that girl.” I reach into the back seat, grabbing my bag with the custody papers in them off the floor. I still haven’t read them all the way through. Each time I sit down to do it, my stomach turns and my head spins. Hopefully having my mom and Kim—the lawyer my mom hired—going over them with me, they won’t seem as scary.

  Hopefully.

  Adelaide made the walk to the front door look so easy, but all I feel is dread knowing what’s waiting for me inside. “And please, don’t try to get my mom all worked up today.”

  “Me? Work up your mom?” Her eyes widen and she holds a hand to her chest, an affronted caricature. “I would never.”

  “You would and you do so often. It’s just . . .” My hand freezes, hovering above the doorknob. “Just not today, okay? I really need you to have my back in here.”

  The laughter that’s always just beneath the surface with Jude disappears. She grabs my wrist with her long, slender fingers and levels me with a look I haven’t seen since I told her about Ben’s affair . . . I mean, affairs (plural). “I’ll always have your back. I’m not sure you understand how much I love you and Addy. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you two”—the mischievous glint returns to her bright blue eyes—“including leaving your mom alone for an afternoon. But all bets are off tomorrow.”

  “That’s all I ask.” I shake my head, my eyes rolling without any of the intended irritation behind them.

  A little bit of the pressure I always feel when I have to talk to my mom eases from my chest, and I open the door feeling more confident than I did before.

  Sure, living with Jude wasn’t part of my master plan, but maybe it should’ve been. Having her on my side is what I needed. She might’ve been onto something with the whole “sister wife” thing.

  * * *

  • • •

  “Full custody?” I’m not sure how many times I’ve said those words, but they still aren’t really registering. “I mean . . . full custody?”

  “How is that possible?” Jude takes charge of the conversation I lost control of as soon as our lovely and extremely competent lawyer, Kim, finished reading the custody papers and told me what Ben was asking for. “He wasn’t even involved in her life for what? Three years? And even before then, it’s not like he helped while they were still together.”

  “Because there’s no paper trail proving otherwise. This is why I asked you if you had a child support agreement in place when you first left him.” My mom levels me with a glare that makes me want to shrivel up and die. And even though she’s trying her best to remain calm and professional in front of her colleague, I can hear the anger in her voice. She’s a hairsbreadth away from losing her temper.

  “I just thought that leaving him alone was the best way to go.” I bring my hand up to my face and start chewing on my nails before I realize I’m doing it. “I didn’t want to force his hand.”

  “And look where that got you!” my mom snaps. “Child support is not only about getting money for your child, it’s about legal documentation to protect you down the line. If you would’ve listened to me, for once, Lauren, this could’ve been avoided! But instead, you lied to me, again! Now, you have to go to court against your ex, a white doctor. What do you think he’s going to do? Because I already know. You’re going to be the angry Black woman, the vindictive baby mama who kept his daughter away from him. And you’re not going to have any proof that you aren’t.”

  Okay.

  I was wrong.

  Now I want to shrivel up and die.

  Nobody can make me feel as small as my mom does.

  I keep chewing on my fingernails, not saying anything as I wait for the burning behind my eyes to subside. I will not cry. I will not prove to her just how weak I am.

  “Okay, well.” Kim shuf
fles the papers on her desk and avoids making eye contact with my mom. I’m sure Kim is shooketh to see the always contained Gloria Turner lose it, but if she sticks around long enough, I can guarantee it won’t be the last time. My mom doesn’t lose her temper often, but when she does, it always seems to be reserved for me. “There’s nothing we can do about the past, but what we can focus on are these upcoming months.”

  My mom closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, visibly trying to regain her composure.

  Is this what Adelaide sees when I do it? Because if it is, I really need to find a new calming method.

  “You’re the expert, Kim.” My mom takes a seat in the chair next to me, her voice calm and measured again. It’s almost like the outburst never happened. “What strategies have proven most successful in the past?”

  “First things first. Any paper trail you have, Lauren? We need it. Old texts, emails, day care bills, bank statements. Anything that can prove Ben was truly absent and unreliable up until very recently.”

  I don’t tell her that I tried to call more than I emailed or texted. I had hoped that hearing my voice or Adelaide’s voice would make him more likely to step up.

  I’m such a fucking idiot.

  “Okay, I can do that.” I nod, trying to keep the guilt out of my voice.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jude taking notes on her phone. Like she promised, she hasn’t done anything to rile my mom up. Actually, I’m not sure she’s been silent this long in her entire life.

  “Next, we need to think of ways we can prove that you aren’t vindictive or angry. You are a loving mom who has done nothing but focus on providing the most loving environment for your daughter. References from your daughter’s teachers. Have you been class mom? Do you volunteer frequently? Playdate groups? Anything that we can use to show you in a glowing light.”

  “I volunteered in Adelaide’s classes whenever I had the opportunity, but it was hard to do too much because of work.” Even though I moved in with my parents, Los Angeles is still expensive. I couldn’t live in the school like some of the stay-at-home moms I know. “I did sign Adelaide up for playgroup with kids from her new school. Maybe her gymnastics teachers could vouch for me? Ben has never even stepped foot in the gym.”

  Kim taps her clear-coated nails against the table. “That’s a good start.” She throws a nervous glance at my mom before looking to me with eyes full of sympathy. “I don’t want to be alarmist, but your mom isn’t wrong. It is going to be easy for Ben to spin things in his favor. I’m not sure a couple of volunteer hours and a gymnastics teacher are going to be enough. We need more. Something that Ben can’t control. Something that shows you as the dedicated and loving mom who has sacrificed to provide for her child.”

  A hush falls over the room as we all contemplate what this means.

  Jude’s fingers, which have been flying across her screen, suddenly pause. “Umm . . .” She clears her throat. “I think I might have an idea.”

  My mom mumbles something beneath her breath before speaking for the entire class to hear. “Not now, Jude. This is important.”

  “Yeah, I know.” The words fly out of Jude’s mouth before she turns her attention to Kim. She can pretend like my mom’s disdain for her doesn’t bother her, but Gloria Turner’s side-eye is legendary and nobody can escape its wrath, not even the perpetually confident social media influencer Jude Andrews. “I have built a very successful social media platform. I focus on fitness, but I know quite a few mom influencers. I mentioned it to Lauren before, but what about a mom podcast? I can even do it with her and use my contacts to get her in touch with different parenting experts. She can use it to direct the narrative in her favor.”

  Even though I told Jude I would think about doing it, I had pretty much decided against it. But now, looking at the way Kim’s smile is practically taking over her entire face and even my mom looks impressed, I know I’m going to have to give in.

  “I love that idea!” Kim practically shouts, her words reverberating off the wainscoted walls. “Mommy influencers are all the rage these days. Having a powerful platform like that behind you could really move things in your favor. But, and this is a very big but, you have to carefully cultivate the image you portray. As easily as it can be used for you, it could be used against you.”

  “No need to worry about that,” I say with false confidence. “If this is what will keep Adelaide with me, it will be the best podcast in the world.”

  Kim hits the table with both hands. “This is a great start. I’m feeling really good about this.”

  “Yeah.” I ignore my mom’s gaze burning a hole into the side of my face and Jude’s smug smirk as she taps away on her phone again. “Me too.”

  This is going to work.

  It has to.

  TEN

  • • •

  Jude

  The high from Mrs. Turner having to admit I’m not a complete idiot had me walking on clouds for a solid week. It looked like she sucked on a lemon as she thanked me.

  It was fucking glorious.

  But you know what they say about being on top. The only place to go is down.

  And meeting with my mom and her agent isn’t a little slope.

  No.

  It’s like a death drop. With fire and explosions and carnage.

  So much carnage.

  “Jude.” My mom is using her “professional” voice during the meeting. It’s like her regular voice but about five octaves higher, and she enunciates each word so slowly I almost doze off during the three-syllable ones. “What do you think?”

  “Think of what?” I haven’t been paying attention, but what can I say? I don’t want to be here.

  “She’s such a jokester. Just like her dad.” She sounds a little hysterical as she laughs me off and waves a hand at Jonathon. I don’t know why she still puts on this act in front of him. He’s been her manager for the last three years. Clearly he knows what a fucking disaster we are. “I know you wanted to start your own gym and the noncompete clause with Fit Flow Studios is a little strict. It’s just that after what happened last time, we figured you’d be waiting awhile anyway and it wouldn’t really matter.”

  After what happened. Well, I guess that’s a nice way to dance around the fact that Asher Thompson stole all of my money and set me back years.

  I was finally at the point in my career where my sponsors were lining up and my followers were wanting more than pictures of me doing Pilates. They wanted in and I wanted to give that to them.

  I started small. Posting YouTube tutorials, creating classes they could do at home. From those, local studios began reaching out and asking me to guest teach. It was kind of like a pop-up shop. I would announce on the day of the class where and when I would be teaching. Each time, the studios were overwhelmed by the amount of people trying to get into my classes. And every time I’d get rave reviews, not only from the people who took the class but from the studio owners who got an influx of new members signing up.

  Then I met Asher.

  He was an investor in one of the studios I taught at. He reached out after attending one of my classes. He was so goddamn charming. And what can I say? I am my mother’s daughter, I love a compliment. He wasn’t bad on the eyes either. He told me how he’d been watching my social media grow and respected the way I was building my brand. I was so thrilled someone noticed the work I was putting in. When he asked me out, I was a goner. He moved in with me a month later.

  I was putty in his slimy hands.

  “Let’s build an empire together,” he said as we were lying in bed together one night. That was it. One line and he had me. The very next day, we started planning the first Jude Andrews studio. Because he’d been involved in studios before, he convinced me to let him take charge of the business stuff. He would do the things I hated, finances and legal jargon, and I’d stick with what I loved, brandin
g, aesthetics, and Pilates.

  It was perfect.

  Until I was the idiot you see in every movie who signs the paperwork without having a lawyer look at it first. We were in love. Why would I need a lawyer?

  Well, probably because I basically handed him my entire savings account and gave up any rights to sue once he took off while I was teaching a class only a few weeks later.

  Thinking back on it, I’m still not sure if my mom was more upset that I was heartbroken or that I couldn’t afford to loan her money for a couple of months.

  And even though I’m getting back on my feet, it will take me years to get to the point I was at before Asher took off. Years.

  “Fit Flow Studios is fine. They have a lot of locations and I’m good with only working out there for a while. What I don’t understand is the contract for the subscription box. The moral clause is ridiculous. No drinking? I’m not doing that. Who cares if I have a cocktail”—or five—“when I’m out with friends? I’m of age, this shouldn’t be a thing.”

  “Don’t worry about that.” Jonathon’s patronizing voice gnaws at my nerves. “I talked to them about it. They don’t mind you having a drink, they just don’t want their brand partners being seen drunk in public. They are a wellness company, after all.”

  “I’m aware of what they are, Jonathon. I’ve been working in the fitness and wellness category for years. But if they mean they don’t want me drunk in public, the contract should say that.”

  Jonathon takes the contract in front of me and scribbles out no drinking and replaces it with no public intoxication before pushing it back to me. “There. Better?”

  I think everyone here has forgotten that I didn’t want to do this shit in the first place. I could be at home with Lauren and Adelaide watching a Frozen marathon and making craft crowns, for fuck’s sake! Plus, I saw a link somewhere that paired drinks with Disney movies that I really wanted to try.