I was sure I’d heard her wrong. How could I possibly help her, or better yet, why would I agree to? “Um, come again?” I replied.
She started crying harder. “Peter wants nothing to do with Gia or me. He blames me for ruining his life and costing him his job and especially for the breakup of your marriage.”
Sure she was partly to blame, but it takes two to tango, and make a baby, and we had other issues besides infidelity.
“So, how can I help you?”
“Will you please talk to Peter?”
I had no intention of doing that. I avoided him at all costs. “What good would that do?”
She held her daughter tighter and kissed her on the head. She looked like a good mother, and Gia looked healthy. She looked up at me. “I think you’re the only one he would listen to. I want Gia to know her father and he refuses to even see her. He sends me a check once a month and that’s it.”
“Stacy, I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how my talking to him will help.”
“Please,” she begged.
I ran my fingers through my hair and closed my eyes. How did this end up being my life?
“Please, Ava. You don’t know how sorry I am for what I did. But my daughter doesn’t deserve to be punished for my mistakes.”
I looked at her sweet little girl. I admit, I had pangs of jealousy, but I also felt sorry for the both of them, especially Gia. I was ashamed of my ex-husband’s behavior. Monetary support was great, but every girl deserves their dad to be present and available in her life. I would have thought Peter of all people would understand that. His dad had died when he was a teenager, and he had spoken often of missing him.
“I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise you.”
Gia reached out her tiny little hand and smiled. I took her little hand in mine and tried desperately not to cry and think about what could have been. I told Stacy I needed to get back to work. She profusely thanked me for talking to her and talking to Peter. I reminded her I would think about it. She still seemed grateful.
After she left, I sat there for a moment and contemplated the request. I despised the thought of talking to him. I hadn’t talked to him since March when he dropped off some pictures he’d found of us at the beach. I don’t know why he thought I would want them. I think he just wanted an excuse to come over. If only he didn’t know where I lived. I tried to make it clear to him he wasn’t welcome there. He had tried to call a few times since then, but I never answered. Then he had the nerve to send me flowers on what would have been our second anniversary. I promptly threw them in the trash.
Chapter 3
I couldn’t get Stacy’s request or sweet little Gia’s face out of my head. Sometimes life seemed really unfair. How did I find myself in the middle of my ex-husband and his former mistress and mother of his child? Maybe I should write Dear Abby or call my mom or a shrink. I knew what my mom would say. She would say what she’d been saying. “Come home, Ava Mae. We all love and miss you, Ava Mae.” I loved and missed them too, but I just had to stay. Maybe I was a masochist, but there was something in me saying stay.
To top off my day, I ran into Scott at the mailboxes. He actually glanced my way this time. It had been three months since that night. I wanted to talk to him, but what would I say? “Sorry I let you kiss me, and I’m sorry I really liked it. I mean, really liked it. And from time to time I still think about it and wish we could do it again.”
Somehow I didn’t think that would go over too well. With his glance, he gave me a half smile. At least it was something, and after the day I just had, I gladly welcomed it. I smiled back, but the full kind, not the half kind, because the old Ava was coming back, and she was somebody that gave full smiles, especially to attractive men. He paused for a second at my response, but then he quickly turned back to his box and locked it. I almost laughed, but instead I grabbed my own mail and walked back home in the sweltering summer heat.
I got home and quickly changed out of my scrubs and threw on a maxi-dress. I had the need to feel feminine. I threw my hair up into a messy bun and turned up my iTunes, well as much as was appropriate when you had such close neighbors. I made my way to the kitchen and tossed together a huge salad and began to make my way through it. For a moment I remembered that Peter hated salads for dinner. I smiled to myself because it didn’t matter what he liked or didn’t like, it only mattered what I liked now, and I liked salad and fruit for dinner, especially on hot summer days.
I sat on my cream colored couch, salad in hand, and reveled in my freedom and tried to forget about Stacy and Gia, at least for a while. I looked around me and thought life wasn’t all bad. I had a beautiful home that was decorated stylishly, I had good job that paid well, and I had a family that loved me. In my reverie, the doorbell rang. I reluctantly got up and answered it. To my surprise it was Scott, and he had a sheepish grin on his face as he held up my roasting pan.
“I’m finally returning this.”
I took the pan from his outstretched hands. “Thank you.”
He acted like he didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell if he just wanted to leave or if he wanted to talk. I don’t think he knew either.
I didn’t like the awkward silence or the staring. “So…I saw you on T.V. talking about the new baby beluga.”
“They’re called calves.”
“Of course.”
He ran his fingers through his hair. “Sorry, that sounded rude.”
I smiled. It didn’t sound rude. He was just a matter-of-fact kind of guy. “So is the calf doing well?”
“Quite well.” He grinned.
“I’m happy to hear that.”
He smiled nervously. “Ava, how have you been?”
I smiled. “Better, how about you?”
“I have my days.”
“I hope more good ones than bad?”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “I’m working on it.”
I smiled in response. He smiled too, but he was acting awfully nervous. There was another moment of awkward silence. I had a feeling he wanted to say something again, at least I thought so.
“I was going to walk over and get some frozen yogurt, would you like some?” He shook his head. “I mean would you like to come with me and get some?”
I was surprised by the invitation. I was afraid we would be avoiding each other for as long as we both lived here. “I would love to.”
He visibly relaxed after my response. I invited him in while I ran upstairs to get my shoes and purse. I met him back in my great room where I saw him looking around.
“Did you decorate this place?”
“Yep.”
“I’m impressed, it looks professional.”
“Thanks, I guess that’s what happens when you’re raised by real estate agents.”
“You definitely have a knack for it. Jenna was never one to worry about such things. She was a minimalist.”
I could still hear the pain in his voice when he said her name. It wasn’t surprising; it had only been four months.
I grabbed my salad bowl off the ottoman and took it to the kitchen.
“Did I interrupt your dinner?” he asked.
I looked at him from the kitchen. “You know that’s the great part about being an adult. You can eat dessert first if you want to.”
He gave me an odd look.
“Do you disagree?”
“No… it’s just I never have and Jenna was pretty particular about eating right.”
I wanted to say, so am I. I’m a nurse, for goodness sakes, but once in a while it’s ok not to be. “Oh. Would it make you feel better if I ate all my vegetables first?”
He laughed. “I’m sorry, Ava. I probably need an instruction manual on how to talk to women. I think I may spend too much time talking to animals.”
At least he was honest and not slick like my ex-husband, who had a penchant for knowing exactly what to say. Maybe Scott’s comment was a little annoying, but in a way, I found it refreshing.
“Unfortunately for you, we don’t come with instructions and even if we did, they would be ever changing.”
He just stared at me like he was trying to figure me out. Maybe he was studying me like his whales and dolphins.
“So, am I cleared to eat dessert first, Dr. Langston?” That’s what they had called him on the news.
He cocked his head. “Why do I get the feeling you’re trouble.”
I gave him my most innocent look. “Who me?” I said in my sweetest southern drawl. But I couldn’t help, but wink and grin wickedly.
He shook his head. “That’s what I thought.”
We finally made our way out the door. It was still warm and humid, but mostly pleasant. I hadn’t been on a walk in a quite a while, so it was a nice change of pace. For exercise, it was usually just me and my treadmill. I noticed as we walked he tried to keep his distance. That was fine with me. Don’t get me wrong, I would surely admit I was attracted to him, I mean I’d be crazy not to be. He was very handsome and well educated and from all my interactions with him, he was kind–and boy could he kiss. But I recognized the fact that he was grieving and so was I. In some ways, divorce was like death. Not that I would say that to Scott.
So there we were, two broken people walking toward the frozen yogurt shop. I guess everyone is broken in some sense, just some more than others. Scott was definitely on the “more” side of the spectrum. It varied for me, but I was having more good days than bad days now, and I rarely missed Peter anymore. I was happy in most ways he was gone, but once in a while something would trigger a sweet memory of the two of us and my heart would ache. I really had loved him, and maybe part of me always would, but I wasn’t in love with him anymore. Scott on the other hand was still in love with his wife, as he should be. I suppose he probably always will be. I guess that’s where divorce and death differ, at least for some.
As we walked, we talked about our days at work, and that carried us through to the yogurt shop. He was very gentlemanly and opened the door for me. This particular shop was a self-serve place, so we perused the selection. Scott chose vanilla. It was a little plain, I thought, but then he added butterfingers to it. I guess his wife’s healthy habits hadn’t totally rubbed off on him. I chose strawberry, and I added fresh strawberries and bananas to mine. He teased me that I was making him look bad as our yogurt cups were being weighed. He insisted on paying for mine. I let him, because my mom had taught me to always let a man be a gentleman.
We found a table toward the back. As we began to eat, Scott remarked that Jenna was allergic to strawberries. He had already mentioned her name like twenty times in the course of our conversation. He must have really wanted to talk about her.
“Tell me about Jenna,” I offered.
I think he was taken aback by the request.
“Like what?” he responded.
“I don’t know. Tell me how you met. When and how long you were married. Just anything.”
He set his spoon down. “Well … we had known each other since grade school, and during high school we hung out in the same group.”
“Oh, so you were high school sweethearts?”
He smiled and shook his head. “No, we didn’t start dating until after our ten year high school reunion and then it was just for a few months before we broke it off.”
“Do you mind me asking why?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I guess the timing was just off.”
I felt like there was more to the story, but he seemed like he didn’t want to say, so I didn’t push. “So when did you get back together?”
He still looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know if I could say a particular time, we just kind of fell into it a couple of years later. We still had a lot of the same friends from high school and we would still all get together when we could and Jenna and I just always seemed to end up together.”
How unromantic, I thought. Not that every love story had to start with a bang. Maybe that was Peter’s and my problem, there was a definite bang. Maybe we should have been friends first, but we had such undeniable chemistry, it was hard not to just fall head over heels for him. Now was not the time to think of that though.
“We got married almost three years ago in September.” He choked a little as he said it.
“Fall weddings are lovely,” I said.
“She thought so too.”
“Was she sick then?”
“She had been diagnosed that spring.”
It was rare for someone to have that disease for such a short period of time and die from it. It wasn’t unheard of, but still it was rare. I wondered if she had been misdiagnosed. Sometimes people are just told they have chronic fatigue syndrome or fibromyalgia and they miss crucial treatment time. I didn’t ask. No sense in bringing it up. I’m sure he had already had enough what-ifs to deal with.
He suddenly switched gears on me. “How old are you Ava?”
“I’ll be thirty in October, why?”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “You just look so young, but you seem wise beyond your age.”
I laughed. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
He laughed too. “I told you I needed a manual.”
“How old are you?” Turnabout was fair play.
“I just turned thirty four last week.”
“Well, happy belated birthday. I wished I would have known. I could have quit ignoring you for the day.”
He cringed. “Yeah about that, I’m sorry about…”
I put up my hand and stopped him. “Please, don’t say you’re sorry for kissing me, even if you are.” I don’t know why, but for some reason I just couldn’t stand the thought of hearing him say he regretted kissing me. I had had enough of that the past two years.
He almost reached out and touched my hand that was on the table, but then he pulled back and he rubbed the wedding ring he was still wearing. “Ava, I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say I was sorry for my behavior right afterwards and the past few months. I’m not sorry for kissing you, but I shouldn’t have. I’m just not ready, but I like you.”
I bit my lip and looked into his pretty blue eyes. “I like you too.”
“Ava, this may sound lame, but do you think we could be just friends right now? I’d like to get to know you better.”
“I’d like that,” I said with no hesitation whatsoever.
He smiled. I smiled too. I liked the thought of Scott and I being friends, and I was happy we wouldn’t be avoiding each other anymore.
Chapter 4
I probably shouldn’t have been so giddy at my age to have a friend, but I hadn’t really made any friends in Chicago. I missed friendship. Back home I had lots of friends, and most especially I had my family, who were my best friends. I really liked the thought of getting to know Scott better. There was just something about him. I couldn’t quite explain it, but I just had a nice, peaceful feeling when I was around him.
As I crawled into bed that I night, I realized I felt light. I had missed that feeling. I didn’t even need to turn the T.V. on for comfort as I fell asleep. I woke up the next morning refreshed and ready to take on the day. The only downer was that I remembered my conversation with Stacy the day before. I still didn’t know what I was going to do about it. Little Gia’s face kept popping into my head while I was taking a shower. At first I thought, that should have been my baby, but then I thought, did I really want to be in that situation now? I wasn’t naïve enough to think that he was really going to change. I mean we weren’t even married a year before he cheated on me, and for all I knew there were others, even though he swore to me she was the only one. His word wasn’t worth much in my book.
I dreaded getting involved, and even more, I dreaded talking to Peter. I highly doubted what I might say would make a difference. He never cared what I had to say when we were married, why would he care now? By the time I was done with my shower, I had decided against it. I felt sorry for Stacy, but I just didn’t see what I could do.<
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I made my way back to my garage, and oddly enough, Scott was there too. We never really ran into each other in the morning even though our garages were right next to each other just like our homes, so it was a pleasant surprise.
He smiled at me when he saw me walking his way. It was a great way to start the day.
I smiled back. “Good morning.”
He returned the greeting.
I began to punch in my garage code.
“Do you have any plans for tonight? They’re doing a movie in the park if you want to go?” he asked.
I looked over at him. He still kept his distance, but he wasn’t as nervous as he was the night before. “That sounds great.”
“I’ll come by around eight to get you?”
“Perfect.”
He stepped a little closer. “Ava, have a good day.”
I stepped closer to him. “You too.”
Then we both went our separate ways, he in his black hybrid highlander, and me in my gas-guzzling red jeep. Today was going to be a good day.
I don’t know why having someone pay attention to me made such a huge difference, but it made my day so much better. I didn’t even mind when the drunken man grabbed my butt, or when the five year old girl puked on me. Ok, maybe I minded a little, but for some reason it was so much easier to deal with those situations just knowing I had someone to talk to later that day, someone that seemed genuinely interested in me. Even a couple of co-workers remarked to me about my change. It made me feel like I should apologize for the last couple of years. I’m sure I wasn’t the best person to work with, but I was going to change that.
I got home early that evening and immediately jumped in the shower. Today had been one of those days that I felt like I was germ infested at work. I scrubbed every inch of my body vigorously and then I just sat on the bench and enjoyed the warm water. Once out, I rifled through my wardrobe and was reminded that I was in need of a shopping trip, but I found cute pair of white shorts and a navy gingham button-up shirt. Paired together they showed off my figure quite nicely. I took time with my hair and make-up. I wasn’t sure why, but I wanted to feel pretty even though this wasn’t a date.
Other Side of the Wall Page 3