Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
S HANNON
“I’m bored, Scrappy. Bored and sick of studying.” Scrappy barely lifts his head and glances at me, probably thinking I’ve finally lost it. The house is so quiet, and even though the kids have only been at Troy’s for a couple of hours, I don’t have it in me to study anymore tonight.
It’s only six p.m., I’ll find something useful to do. Ah, laundry. Yep, I can catch up on laundry. It’s deeply satisfying to spend my Friday night doing the mundane task of getting ahead. That should probably be concerning, but it isn’t.
I grab a clothes basket from the laundry room and head upstairs. After gathering the clothes from the younger three kids’ rooms, I’m shocked when I enter Olivia’s room and, instead of her clothes all over the floor like usual, they’re actually in the hamper. It’s a small win in the life of a mom, but I’ll take it. After getting her clothes, I head to my walk-in closet and empty the hamper. The basket’s overflowing at this point, and I stuff it down as I walk to the other side of the bed to get Troy’s?—
I don’t know how long I stand there staring at the sock-free floor before I drop the basket and slide down the wall until I’m sitting on the hardwood.
“Troy doesn’t live here anymore, Shannon. Get it together. First, you’re talking to the dog. Then you forget your husband hasn’t lived here for over a month. Jesus.”
As I sit there, I wonder why the socks on the floor bothered me so much. I’m not even sure I ever told Troy it annoyed me. Instead, I let it frustrate me until every time I saw a stupid sock on the floor, I filed it away in my brain as another way he was slighting me. It seems so stupid now. It was such a trivial thing to be annoyed over. If I had told him, he probably would have tried to stop doing it. He might have needed reminding once in a while, but he’s not a man who does things maliciously. We may have grown apart, but I know that about him.
I heave my tired body off the floor and pick up the laundry basket. It only takes me five minutes to have the first load in the washing machine. Now what? I go to the kitchen, and nothing needs doing there.
Maybe I’ll have a snack and binge-watch something on television. The idea of it doesn’t really light my fire, but I need to find something to do. When I pull open the refrigerator, my gaze is immediately drawn to the bright pink liquid in the plastic medicine bottle.
Shit. How did I forget Chase’s medicine when I packed his overnight bag to go to Troy’s? It’s not like he only has one dose left, either. There are still four days of his ear infection treatment remaining.
I close the refrigerator and pull out my phone to text Troy.
Me: I’m so sorry, but I forgot to pack Chase’s antibiotic. Is it okay to bring it over? I usually give his last dose by around 7:30.
I wait ten minutes, but when I don’t get a response, I decide I’ll head over. I don’t want to risk Chase falling asleep early and then having to wake him to get his medicine.
Ten minutes later, I’m standing on the small porch of a really small house, one I never noticed at the end when I’ve driven on this street despite how long we’ve lived here. I guess I never had a reason to go down this far, but judging by its size, I imagine it’s barely large enough for Troy to live in.
I don’t knock right away as my children’s laughter is heard even through this weather-beaten door. I smile, reassured that even though this has been so hard for our kids, they can still find joy.
When I finally knock, the laughter dies down slightly, and a minute later, the door opens. Troy stands there, his hair tousled, I would guess from roughhousing with the kids. His eyes widen with surprise at me standing there.
“Shannon? What are you doing here? Is everything okay? I thought you were the pizza guy.”
I hold up the bottle of medicine that I’ve been gripping in my hand, and understanding dawns across Troy’s face.
“Crap, I’m so sorry. I should’ve asked for that when I picked the kids up. I totally forgot.” Troy grips the back of his neck with one hand and rubs his hair with the other. I watch as he looks back into the house and then turns back to me. “Do you wanna come in and say hi to the kids? The place isn’t much, though.”
I only hesitate for a second because, of course, I want to see the kids. Plus, I was bored at home, and the laughter and happiness filling the air around us is intoxicating. It’s clearly more exciting here than at my house with no one to talk to but the dog and only dirty laundry to keep me company.
“Sure. If you don’t mind, it would be nice to see where the kids stay when they’re not with me.”
Troy glances over his shoulder, his eyes darting around, then runs a hand through his hair, and his shoulders visibly sag.
“Okay. But it’s small.”
Troy steps back and gestures for me to enter his home, and though it’s definitely not spacious, it’s clean and warm. There’s a very small kitchen as soon as I go in, and it’s only a few more steps into the living room, which also doubles as a dining room, judging by the small round table.
It takes a second for the kids to notice me, and I smile as I take in the scene before me. All four of our children are tangled up playing Twister on the living room floor. I suspect he’s not playing the game, but Chase is even in there, wedging himself into the small spaces between his siblings.
It’s Chase who spots me first. “Mama!” He untangles himself from his siblings like a little bulldozer, causing the other kids to collapse into a pile of giggling bodies. Chase runs over to me and grabs my legs, hugging them. Joy fills my heart, and I squat slightly and pick him up, snuggling him to my body.
One by one, the other kids come over and give me hugs and kisses. Oliver watches quietly while Chelsea bounces up and down, and Olivia smiles at me. “Hey, Mom, what are you doing here?”
“I forgot to send Chasey’s ear infection medicine with Dad, so I had to drop it off. Give me kisses again, and I’ll head out and let you guys get back to your fun with your dad.”
Chelsea stops bouncing and frowns at me. “You’re not staying for pizza and Twister with us, Mom? Come on, it’ll be fun. Daddy was playing, too.”
“He’s super clumsy,” Olivia says, accompanied by a laugh.
“Hey! I object to that. I’m very graceful,” Troy says. He chuckles, and I like the sound.
“Please, Mommy,” Chelsea begs.
I glance over at Troy, who shrugs and gives me a slight nod. If this had been a few weeks ago, I never would have considered staying. But I realize I want to stay. I want to be a part of the fun they’re having.
“Sure, that sounds fun. Though I warn you, I grew up with two brothers and two sisters, and I was the Twister queen.”
Over the next two hours, I have fun and laugh more than I have in many months, maybe even longer. Even though Troy doesn’t have a big kitchen table for us to sit around like at home, it doesn’t matter. We sit on the slightly lumpy couch and the floor, spread around his living room, eating our pizza. My heart is content right now.
I can’t help but sneak some peeks at Troy throughout the evening. I mean, it’s hard to avoid because the space is so tiny, but also because I forgot how much I loved watching him be a dad to our kids. In my depression, it had become hard to appreciate even the small things like that.
When I listen to the women at work complain about their husbands—or ex-husbands—and their lack of engagement and involvement in their children’s lives, I can’t relate. I’ve only ever had great examples. My father was a wonderful dad to us five kids, and my brothers and brothers-in-law are great dads, too. But Troy has always been extraordinary with the kids. Don’t get me wrong, he’s definitely not perfect with them, and sometimes clothes are mismatched, or he forgets to do something for them that I ask, but it’s never anything big or life-altering. I’m confident he’s helping raise my sons to be good men and my daughters to recognize a good man. What’s that saying? Something like a boy grows up to be like his father, and a girl grows up to marry him. That’s true. I lucked out in the dad department for my kids, and I suspect it’s because I knew how to recognize a good man.
An ache fills my chest as I wonder what happened to us. How did we end up here? I fell in love with this man at fifteen years old. I don’t know when I fell out of love with him. I thought we were each other’s forever, that we would grow old, loving our life together.
When it’s time to get the kids ready for bed, Troy seems less relaxed than he has all evening. He leaves for a moment and returns with Chase’s little toothbrush with some toothpaste on it, sending the older three kids to the bathroom to brush their teeth. He lifts Chase onto the kitchen counter, gives him his nighttime medicine, and then helps Chase brush his teeth using the kitchen sink.
A few minutes later, the older three kids come out with their pajamas on and their teeth brushed. I hug them and say goodbye, but Chelsea frowns and asks why I’m not tucking her in. I glance at Troy again as he peers down the hall where the bedrooms are, biting at his lip, his jaw tense. But, when Chelsea practically begs, resignation flashes across Troy’s face, and he nods to me.
I follow the kids back down a short hallway, and Chelsea, pulling me by the hand, leads me into the room she shares with her sister. Olivia kisses me good night, grabs her e-reader, and climbs into the top bunk. I tuck Chelsea in, read her a short story, then wrap her blanket tightly around her as she loves.
“Say it, Mama. Like at home,” Chelsea says. She struggles to keep her eyelids open, and I lean down, kissing her on the forehead.
“Snug,” I tuck her blankets tighter around her sides and leg, “as a bug,” stretching to tuck her feet better, “in a rug.” My sweet baby girl smiles and closes her eyes. I kiss her one last time on the forehead before leaving their room and turning off the lights.
It only takes steps to get to the second bedroom, where the boys are. I climb a few steps up the ladder to the top bunk and give Oliver a good night hug.
“Owlie, are you okay? You were quiet tonight.”
“I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry about me.” He lets me kiss him on the cheek but doesn’t look me in the eye, and then he turns and faces the wall. I stand there for several long seconds, wondering what to do for our boy. He seems to be taking the divorce harder than the other kids.
I climb down the ladder and sit on the end of the bottom bunk, where Troy is tucking Chase into bed. I watch as he strokes our little boy’s wavy hair while Chase’s eyes get heavier until they fall closed, and his breathing evens out with the peace of sleep.
Troy stands and says, “I’ll give you a minute. I know you like to watch him sleep.” His smile is slight but sincere. I watch him as he turns, wondering how he knew that about me. I don’t think I ever told him it brought me comfort to watch each of my babies sleep through the years. Yet, he knows.
He walks out of the room, and I scoot into his place and watch my baby in his peaceful state for a bit before I kiss him on the forehead and rise. I pull the door closed except for a crack when I step back into the hallway. I look around and discover there are no more rooms back here.
Returning to the main space, I find Troy straightening the kitchen. When he notices me, he gives me a forced smile.
“Thanks for staying tonight. It made the kids happy.” I smile at him, grateful he let me be a part of it. He didn’t have to.
“It was nice. Much better than being at the house by myself, honestly.” I clear my throat. “Troy, I haven’t said it much, but you know you’re a great dad, right? Like a really good one. Our kids are lucky to have you.”
Troy’s cheeks turn pink, and he slips his hands into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. “Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
“I know,” I speak the words with a hushed voice. “But don’t ever doubt it. Even though we... you know, you’ve always been a phenomenal father.”
I grab my bag off the kitchen counter and head for the door. When I get there, I turn to say goodbye to Troy. Instead, something comes over me, and I ask, “You wouldn’t want to have a cup of coffee, would you? It’ll help keep me awake, and maybe I can get in a few more hours of studying tonight after I get home.”
Troy’s eyes widen for a second but then return to normal. “I could go for a cup of coffee. The kids have me worn out from all that Twister and I need to stay up tonight and prepare for an appointment.”
“Let’s do it.” I set my bag back on the counter. When he turns to put on a pot of coffee, I open my mouth to ask what kind of appointment but stop myself. It’s not my place.
Minutes later, Troy and I sit on his couch, sipping our coffee. We don’t say anything for a while, but then a question niggling at the back of my brain forces its way out.
“Troy, where are you sleeping? I only saw the two bedrooms, and they each have bunkbeds, but I didn’t see a bed for you anywhere.”
Troy looks away from me toward the living room window, even though it’s dark out now, and he cannot see anything. “I can sleep in one of those beds when the kids aren’t here, but this couch opens out into a bed for me. That’s where I’ve been sleeping. It’s comfy, don’t worry.”
I huff. “Troy, it’s not even comfy to sit on.” It earns me a chuckle. “Seriously, you need a better place to sleep.”
“It’s fine. Let’s not get into this. We’re having a nice evening, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
I stare at him, then decide it’s not worth fighting about. But he and I will talk about him insisting on paying the mortgage at our house. It’s not sustainable for him in the long term.
We spend the next hour talking about what’s going on in life. I tell him about making a friend at work, Tillie, and explain that I’m scheduled for my CPA exam. Troy tells me about the happenings at the station, which I miss hearing about. Troy has been with the fire department for fifteen years. Some of his crewmates are like family to us.
It’s also nice to have a conversation with Troy without fighting or feeling awkward.
We reach a place where the conversation naturally slows, and we sit in silence for several minutes, then Troy clears his throat. “Shannon, we need to talk about Oliver. I’m worried about him.”