To CastrateNot to Castrate, Thy is the Age Old Question
JOSEPHINE
The suitcase in my trembling grip feels like it’s full of garden bricks instead of the couple of days’ worth of clothes I packed for Haley and me.
Drawing in a steadying breath, my knuckles rap against the door. I know I shouldn’t be here, dragging others into our mess, but I couldn’t sit and wait for Vik to come home.
I need space, and there’s no way I’ll get that with him there. He’ll smother me until I relent, tearing away my fragile excuses. Logic doesn’t always see reason when emotions are involved, and right now, my emotions are the only thing steering the fucking ship.
There’s a shuffle on the other side of the door, before the lock clicks out of place, and Harlow comes into view. The surprise that it’s her and not Lexi disappears the moment she takes me in, cataloging the scene in one fell swoop.
“Well, there you are. Haley, my girl, Sienna’s in her room. Why don’t you go find her?”
My daughter, ever the excitable bundle of joy, runs off without a look back, and I’m grateful because the moment she steps out of view, my face crumples.
“Oh, babe.” Harlow’s on me in an instant, taking the bag from my hand and drawing me into her steady embrace. “Let’s take this into the living room. Lexi’s probably wondering what the hell’s going on.”
I sniffle and dry my eyes, but it doesn’t cork the tears from continuing to fall silently.
Harlow ditches my bag at the hall entrance, and we shuffle into the living room.
“Another solar salesman?” Lexi asks, eyes flicking from the TV to us, before her eyes widen, taking me in. She shoves at the couch, trying to pry her very pregnant self free.
Hurrying across the room, I urge her to stay put and slide in next to her. She tucks the soft throw blanket over my lap and immediately grips my fingers.
“What the hell’s going on?”
My throat swells, clogging with confusion and hurt. I know I need to explain why I just showed up with my daughter and luggage after being MIA for three days without calling, but I can’t seem to catch my breath.
“Okay, I’m getting wine. Lexi, you want a ginger ale?” Harlow asks, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Please.” She perks up, running her thumb over my finger.
When Harlow returns with the glasses and an extra bottle, I’ve finally composed myself enough to break the news.
“Vik has another kid,” I spit out. Ripping off the band-aid.
Harlow shoots to her feet. “I’ll fucking castrate him. How dare he think he could step out on you, step out on your family? Does that man have a death wish?” she whisper shouts, which I appreciate.
Haley thinks we’re here to help Lexi with Sienna because the baby’s coming.
That’s all the excuse she needed to be excited about a sleepover with her best friend.
She doesn’t need to know that I can’t stand to be around her father right now.
Because every time I look at him, all I can see is Miranda hanging all over him in that picture, or them in bed together, or her showing up telling him she’s pregnant. It’s a terrible loop I can’t turn off.
“It’s not exactly like that.”
“Then, what’s it like, because from where we’re sitting, Vik just became enemy number one on Harlow’s list.” Lex tries to joke, but it falls flat.
“The boy. His son, Trenton.” I choke. “He’s fourteen. I guess that’s the silver lining. My husband didn’t cheat on me, but he sure as hell didn’t fucking tell me that he might have a kid out there either. I know I shouldn’t be this mad—”
“Wait a second.” Harlow cuts me off. “Who said you’re not allowed to be mad about this. I’d be losing my fucking mind if some random club bunny popped up at our door with a mini Si.”
“So, he knew about the kid and kept it from you all these years. That’s crazy.”
“Uhh, not quite. He didn’t know, know.” I draw in a deep breath and recount mine and Vik’s entire conversation.
Maybe it’s an overshare, but how else am I supposed to process all this?
It’s not like I have a therapist on speed dial.
These two are my therapists, because we don’t live a normal life.
If we talked about half the shit we see or get caught up in, we’d end up in prison just like our husbands.
Then who’d take care of all these damn kids?
The last drop of my second glass of wine goes down right as I finish my story. Neither of them says a word. Their matching shocked expressions reflect everything I’ve felt over the last few days.
The soft sounds of laughter filter through from the back of the house. At least the girls are having a good time, completely clueless.
“And you just packed a bag and left?” Lexi asks in awe, which makes me laugh, considering she did the same thing a few years back, hiding out at the clubhouse after things with her and Pierce went sideways.
“Seems we have the same stress response.”
“You know he’s going to come looking for you, right?” Harlow states the obvious.
The front door takes that opportune moment to open, and all of us jump in unison, our gazes fixed on the living room opening, waiting on bated breath. Pierce pops around the corner and stops in his tracks, eyes finding Lexi immediately.
“Is everything okay?” He panics, dropping the groceries to the floor with a crash as he sprints to be at his wife’s side.
“I’m fine, Jesus. I told you nothing interesting would happen while you were gone.” Her eyes find mine over his shoulder, and I shake my head, silently pleading with her to keep the situation to herself.
It’s not fair, and it won’t work. The moment Vik shows up here, beating down their front door, Pierce is going to know something’s up, but maybe my husband will be rational for once and give me the space that I need.
“Josie brought Haley over to play with Sienna, and they’re going to stay for dinner. She offered to keep Sienna if I go into labor.”
“I thought she was staying with Harlow and Si.”
“Oh well…” Lexi takes a second. I can see she’s struggling with the whole lying-to-his-face thing.
“I just wanted to give you guys options. Plus, with the girls’ schools being so close together, it makes sense if it’s during the week.”
“Right.” Pierce drawls, dropping a kiss to his wife’s cheeks, before retreating back to pick up the groceries from the floor. “I don’t know what you three are up to, but it better not put any more stress on my wife, or I’m kicking you out,” he calls, heading for the kitchen.
“Ignore him, I do most of the time. He’s overbearing on the best days, but me pregnant, especially when this little guy could be here any minute, it’s almost stifling.” She sighs, sinking back into the couch. “You know you’re more than welcome to stay as long as you need, both of you.”
“Thank you. I just need a little time to wrap my head around everything and figure out how the man who has always been my rock, who didn’t blink twice when I told him I was pregnant with Haley, and has been the most amazing father since the day she was born, is the same man who never even thought to confirm if he did or didn’t have another kid out there.
Or even mention the possibility to me. He just let it blind side us both. ”
Lexi nods emphatically, but Harlow sucks her lips like she just popped a warhead.
“What? Just say it.”
“I mean, from what you said about her, can you really blame him for thinking she was probably fucking crazy and moving on with his life. He was what, twenty-six? I swear, men are idiots until they’re at least in their mid-thirties.
By then, he was chasing after you. I’m not saying you have to forgive him right away.
If anything, I think you should make him sweat a little.
It’s good for their egos. But at the end of the day, are you really willing to let that dumb bitch get one last punch in from the grave? ”
“Since when did you become the levelheaded one?”
“Well, you’re a little preoccupied, and she’s full of baby hormones, so someone’s gotta do it.” She shrugs. “Anyway, I should probably head out. I think I need to have a conversation with my husband. Make sure we don’t run into something like this in the future.”
Lo leaves in a flash, but her voice of reason repeats on a loop, while Lexi and I relax on the couch, watching some reality TV show about a group of internet-famous moms from Utah.
Pierce serves us dinner and makes sure the girls are fed, and by the time the sun’s set and I’ve gotten Haley tucked away for the night, I turn my phone on for the first time since I left the house.
Twenty-seven missed calls.
Fifteen voicemails.
Eight texts.
All point to one very pissed-off husband.