Chapter 6 #2
I thought suddenly that I was glad Chloe wasn’t here and forced to face the decisions of her past. But it might have been nice to share this table with someone else who knew what it was like to be divorced from one of the Begley Auto guys, instead of being surrounded by well-meaning friends and family who were getting ready to ask me again if I was holding up okay.
Chloe Rockford, my friend and the bakery assistant at Grandpappy’s, had married Keaton Begley right out of high school.
They’d divorced a year and a half ago. But Chloe probably wouldn’t have cared about Keaton being in her proximity.
I was sure she’d hardly notice him hollering less than fifty feet away and making a big deal out of a strike.
Because Chloe was happily remarried now.
She’d moved on. She probably didn’t even think about being cheated on and manipulated.
Chloe had a new life, and she was living it.
I wondered how long it would take me to pull myself back together.
“Are you okay?” Mac asked quietly. Again.
I’d known it was coming. Instead of sighing, I met my sister’s concerned gaze and nodded, aiming for a reassuring smile and landing somewhere in the vicinity of a pathetic lip tremble.
Mac furrowed her brows, helpless in the face of my despair.
I hated feeling weak. Reminders of my life before were hard to shake.
There had been good years in my marriage, and Danny had been my best friend for the majority of my life.
I didn’t know how to put all that behind me, to stop mourning the loss and just move forward.
To keep myself from begging for it back.
Maybe if Danny had given me a little more time, I could have—
Abruptly, Mac stood, distracting me from my self-pity. She looked determined, and that never meant anything good.
“He should leave,” she spat. “We were here first. How long had you been asking to start a team? Oh, and now he decides to up and do it, when he never bothered before.”
“Mac, please,” I begged, fearful that she might do something public and rash.
She ignored me, too focused on defending my honor to actually hear what I was saying. “I’m going over there.”
Desperation had me lunging across the table and cuffing her wrist. With strength I didn’t feel, I kept her from walking off to confront my ex.
“Stop it,” I hissed, panic making my voice unsteady.
I didn’t want a scene. I definitely didn’t need my sister to draw attention to the drama that was my life. I couldn’t stand the thought of Danny seeing me this way, thinking I was anything but just fine.
I didn’t pull out my big-sister tone very often, but I couldn’t abide this. “Sit down, MacKenzie Eloise.” But as the sound reached my ears, I realized my voice had come out broken and choked, like a call that had lost signal, pieces and parts dissolving into nothing.
Fear raised my heart rate, and my breath was coming too fast.
Mac’s eyes widened, and she lowered herself to her seat in a hurry. “Shit. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bonnie. I wasn’t thinking. Just breathe.”
I did. I took great gulps of air as my nose started to tingle, always the first sign I was about to lose control—lose the fight against my anxiety.
Dammit. I did not want to do this here. I closed my eyes and focused on breathing in the here and now, the way my therapist had taught me.
I listened to the rush of air through my nose, accompanied by the soundtrack of pins crashing and people talking.
With every inhale, I catalogued the scent of fried food and decades-old cigarette smoke embedded in the furniture.
My hands pressed into the smooth surface of the table, over and over.
I didn’t know how long it took, but eventually my breathing evened out and my eyes opened. Mac and Candace and Joan were watching me worriedly. I didn’t want to explain or discuss the anxiety attack I’d avoided just now. And I definitely didn’t want to spend the next hour bowling.
“I’m sorry, Bon,” Mac whispered again.
I nodded because I knew my little sister meant well.
“I think I’m going to head out.”
“That’s not a good idea,” Joan said at the same time Candace insisted, “No, Bonnie. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll come with you,” Mac pleaded, guilt making her forehead wrinkle.
Shaking my head, I gripped the table and got to my feet. I was mostly steady. I could walk out of here and drive home and be just as fine as I pretended to be.
“It’s been a long day. I’ll catch y’all later.”
I didn’t look around to see if the coffee shop team on the next lane had seen me spiral out of control. Warmth was coming back into my face, a telltale blush working its way up from my neck.
With controlled movements, I gathered my bag and made for the exit. I wasn’t stopping to change out of my bowling shoes.
When I passed by the concession stand, I glanced up to see Danny standing there with Keaton. His gaze met mine, and I was pretty proud when my steps didn’t falter.
His brows furrowed, and his lips formed my name, but I didn’t wait around to find out what my ex-husband would have said or done. I looked away and kept right on walking.
I was careful on the drive home, hands clutching the steering wheel as I focused on the beams from my headlights. At home, I left my clothes on the floor and changed into pajamas.
When I was lying in bed, I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I felt calm and in control—texting Jack in the middle of the night.
It was easier to focus on that than the spectacle I’d made of myself tonight.
I should have been relieved that I’d avoided a panic attack.
My therapist, Nina, would have been proud of me, and I would tell her about it during our next scheduled virtual session.
But I couldn’t seem to find the relief. The sudden onset of emotion had been so very public.
Rationally, I knew it was silly to feel embarrassed or vulnerable. I was close to Candace and Joan and Mac. They weren’t judging me or thinking less of me. But it was easier to hide certain parts of myself. Better to avoid being an inconvenience to the people in my life.
There had been a few panic and anxiety attacks in the months since my separation from Danny. Centering myself tonight, remembering the techniques Nina had taught me, and finding calm in the middle of the storm had been a big step.
“Three favorites,” I murmured into the quiet room. Then I started with pizza toppings and moved on to ice-cream flavors. Next, I recited my favorite summer Olympic sports, followed by winter. Weary and exhausted from the long day and emotional upheaval, I was asleep before I hit the downhill luge.
Friday afternoon rolled around with another knock on my classroom door.
“Hey, Bon.”
But it wasn’t my principal with news to deliver.
It was my ex-husband.
I stood awkwardly as Danny shuffled through the open doorway. “Hi,” I said cautiously, wondering what this little visit was about and hating myself for hoping he missed me.
I could count on one hand how many times Danny had been in my classroom over the years.
“How you been?” he asked.
The spiteful part of me that I kept locked away wanted to get angry, to tell Danny to get to the point and get out of my life.
But there were other parts too, ones that were just as difficult to ignore.
The girl who remembered holding hands for the first time on the bus in eighth grade or swimming in the lake with sunburned shoulders and full hearts.
Or the young woman who’d gotten married under the gazebo at the farm and watched her groom cry when he saw her walking down the aisle.
“Good,” I replied stiffly, a compromise.
He shoved his hands awkwardly into the pockets of his coveralls, and I hated that I knew it was because he was nervous. “Figured you’d be here late.”
It had been a point of contention in our marriage.
But I liked finishing up all my weekly grading before heading home for the weekend.
Danny had gotten frustrated if I made us late for dinner at his parents’ house on Friday nights.
But I hadn’t made us late. I always did the majority of the cooking, so we didn’t miss anything.
He was just chronically impatient and didn’t like to wait on me.
Plus, he thought eating after six thirty was the end of the world.
“Yep, still here,” I replied, refusing to let that old bitterness bleed through. I didn’t have to justify my decisions to him or anyone else. Not anymore.
A few more steps put Danny in front of my desk. I was still standing, unsure what to do with myself.
Finally, he said, “Got some news about Mom. Her cancer is back. Not much they can do about it this time. She’s home with hospice.”
My heart sank. Diane Jensen was one of the kindest people I’d ever met. I’d known her since I was fourteen years old, and she’d been a second mother to me. The separation had been hard enough to manage without feeling like I’d lost half my family in the process. But I had.
Danny’s parents and sisters had all gradually broken contact. I realized it had been over a month since I’d heard from any of them. Not even about this.
I loved Diane. I couldn’t just turn that off.
“I wanted to come by and see if you might visit with her,” Danny said as I sat heavily in my chair. “She’s been asking about you, but didn’t want to bother you. I know it would mean a lot.”
“Of course,” I replied immediately. I wanted to see her. I might not be her daughter-in-law anymore, but I could still support her in this. “I’ll get in touch with your dad and figure out when she’s up for some company.” I swallowed roughly. “I’m so sorry, Danny. Thank you for telling me.”
His smile was tight. “Yeah. I’m sorry too.”