Chapter 23
23
Lexi
The next morning, I wake to a text from Hallie to the group: Nine. One. One. Robin’s ex-husband wants to move back into the house to care for their kids—and her. She says it’s out of practicality and is not romantic, that she and I are still a couple, and nothing has changed. What. The. Hell?!?!?!
My heart sinks for Hallie. The entire situation with Robin gives me a pit of dread in my stomach for my sweet friend.
Joy is the first to reply: No. Just no. She can’t have it both ways. She’s either with him or with you.
Roni: WHAT JOY SAID x 1 million!
Naomi: x 2 million!
I think about it for a second before typing my reply. Playing devil’s advocate here as a former full-time caretaker of a terminally ill person… Slow your roll, people. Is it possible that the ex is simply trying to do the right thing by the person he was married to for years and has children with? Is it possible he’s acting in their best interest and not his own? Could he be involved with someone else, too? Are you willing, Hallie, to move in and care for her (and her kids) if it comes to that?
Adrian: I agreed with what Joy and the others said until Lexi weighed in, and now I’m not so sure. She makes very good points. What if Robin’s cancer suddenly progresses? Does it make sense for the kids’ father to be nearby if things get dicey? How far are you willing to go to be her caregiver if need be?
Christy: All good questions, Lexi and Adrian. Another thought… Robin has soon-to-be teenagers. Trust me… you don’t want to be thrust into the game with them at this stage. I can barely handle mine, and I’ve known them for years.
That makes me laugh. Christy’s kids are great, and that’s due in large part to how effectively she’s managed their grief along with her own.
Wynter: Why can’t you all live together like one big happy family? He takes care of his kids. You take care of her?
Gage: What does it say about the rest of us that the youngest one has the best idea?
Wynter: That I’m smarter than all of you combined?!?
Brielle: Don’t you have a baby to breastfeed or something?
Derek: Absolutely no talk of breastfeeding in this group text.
Iris: Laughing emojis Hallie, is this helping at all, honey, or have we made it worse?
Hallie: I sort of dig Wynter’s idea…
Wynter: YES!!!! I win! fist bump emoji
Hallie: Except we’re not even kinda ready for the move-in stage of the program.
Kinsley: From the cancer widow here… Things can change at any time, especially at stage four. If you’ve decided you’re all in with her, which it seems as if you have, then be all in for the time you have left. Just don’t give up your own home…
Gage: Very good advice, Kins.
Hallie: Thank you all for weighing in. When she told me this, my first thought was FUCK no. But you all make good points, and I feel better after talking it out with you.
Wynter: Especially me.
Laughter emojis from everyone
Iris: Love you, Hallie. Let us know what we can do for you.
Gage: Ditto. Widow Movers is standing by ready to help.
Hallie: Thanks, guys! Xo
“What’s blowing up in widowville today?” Tom asks when he rolls over to find me on my phone.
“Hallie, who lost her wife, Gwen, to suicide, is dating Robin now. Hallie is Robin’s first female partner, and Robin has two almost-teenagers and stage-four breast cancer. Her ex-husband is talking about moving back in to care for the kids—and Robin. Needless to say, that’s not going over well with Hallie.”
“Whoa. You guys don’t mess around when it comes to complications, huh?”
“Sometimes it’s messy. This is one of those times, and we’re all terrified for Hallie in this situation, even if she assures us that Robin is lovely and all the things. It’s a lot for Hallie, who’s already been through so much.”
“Surely Hallie is going into this with her eyes wide open.”
“She is, but we wish it wasn’t so complicated for her on the first time out after her loss.”
“It’s always complicated, isn’t it? When it truly matters?”
“There’s complicated, and then there’s this situation. Wynter suggested that the husband move in to care for the kids and Hallie move in to take care of Robin.”
“That sounds like the makings of an unfunny sitcom.”
“I know.”
“Come here.”
I put down my phone and snuggle into his warm embrace.
“I love how you worry about your buddies, but I don’t like that frown on your face when everything is going so well in your own life right now.” He kisses the spot between my brows. “What can we do to turn that frown upside down?”
“This is the hard part of being one of the Wild Widows. We take on everyone else’s problems and make them our own. And yes, we know that’s probably not as healthy as it could be.”
“It’s very sweet the way you all take care of each other.”
“I certainly wouldn’t have been ready for you without their support.”
“In that case, I’m very glad you have them.”
“Me, too.”
Hallie
My stomach is in knots as I wait for Robin to arrive. It’s been in knots ever since she dropped the ex-husband-wants-to-move-back-in bomb on me earlier today. On the one hand, I appreciate that the ex wants to have everything in place for if and when her cancer takes a turn for the worse, which it probably will at some point in the not-so-distant future.
But to have him living in the house again? That might be a bridge too far for me.
In the years since Gwen took her own life for reasons that are still not clear to me, I’ve been in survival mode. The shock of that loss reverberated through every corner of my life, leaving me flattened with grief, regret and questions I’ll never have answered to my satisfaction. It’s taken me years to even think about dating again, and after a few first-date flops, along came Robin with her big smile and her zest for life that had me immediately dazzled for the first time since I lost Gwen.
However, then came the red flags that should’ve had me backing away slowly but certainly.
I would be her first female partner.
She has stage-four breast cancer, which is stable. For now, anyway.
Now, her ex-husband wants to move back into the house.
That latest flag has had me looking for my line in the sand, which has gotten foggy in this situation. I used to have hard-and-fast lines I’d never cross when it came to romantic partners.
At one point, I had a written list of things that were a hard no for me, such as homophobic family members who’d make our lives a living hell. I’d worked too hard on myself and my own family to take on bigots. If you’re hiding who you are from the people closest to you, then I’m not your girl.
Experimentation was another. If you’re “dabbling” in the lesbian lifestyle, I’m not the one for you. Either you’re all in or you’re not, which is totally up to you. But I’m not interested in one foot in while you keep your options open with men. Nope.
I walked away from people I felt a connection to because of these things, so these rules weren’t just on paper. I lived them.
Robin has blown all my old rules to smithereens.
I was her first female lover.
She cried for an hour after the first time we had sex.
“I never knew what I was missing,” she said. “How could I have lived all this time and not known?”
Those are heady words to hear from a new lover. She made me feel ten feet tall to have given her that experience and to have thoroughly enjoyed it myself, even if she had to be guided a bit on how to return the pleasure. I didn’t mind showing her the ropes, so to speak, because she was eager to learn and even more determined to make it good for me, too.
She’s gorgeous, funny, sarcastic, fatalistic about her dreadful illness and madly in love with her two children—a son, who’s eleven, and a thirteen-year-old daughter. She cries when she talks about leaving them without a mother to finish raising them. My heart breaks for her and for them.
I’ve met her kids, and they’re lovely. Sweet, polite, helpful… Nothing at all like other kids in that age range, from what I’ve seen. They seem to understand their time with her might be short, and they’re not going to waste it fighting with her over stupid shit. I admire them for that and for their kindness toward Robin—and me.
I can’t imagine what it would be like to have my mom switch teams midway through my childhood, but Elias and River have welcomed me as their mom’s special friend at this tender time in their lives. For that, I’ll always have a place in my heart for them and the gift they’ve given their mother with their acceptance of her choices. I’m not under any illusions that it would’ve been so smooth without cancer in the mix, but I’m grateful for her sake that it has been.
And now, right when I was becoming as comfortable with a somewhat fucked-up situation as anyone could be with a stage-four cancer diagnosis hanging over a new relationship, the ex-husband reenters the picture.
By all accounts, he’s a decent sort of guy. There was no big dramatic reason for their marriage ending, other than it running its course and Robin wanting more out of whatever life she had left than what she had with him. But the thought of the four of them all under one roof like a cozy family while I’m on the outside looking in is a hard no from me.
That is my bridge too far. My Wild Widows have given me the words to speak my truth to her, which I might’ve been afraid to do without their support. If I’m guilty of one big thing in all my relationships, it’s that I tend to give more than I get. I did that with Gwen. I was constantly striving to make her happy, even if at times I sacrificed my own well-being for hers. I’ve had tons of therapy since her death, through which I’ve learned that there was nothing I could’ve done to change the outcome once she decided to end her life.
I’ve learned to live with that, even if I still revisit those final days far too often for my liking. I’m always looking for something I could’ve done differently, some sign that she’d made a decision that would shatter me, but there was nothing to find or see or do.
That’s not the case with Robin, and I’m determined to stick up for myself this time around when my inclination would be to put her first, due to her situation.
I’m determined to stay strong and to make my case as important as hers.
To do that, I’ll have to keep my emotions in check, which will be the hardest part. I wear them on my sleeve, or so I’ve been told my entire life. My mother used to tell me as a child that I could never hide when I was upset or anxious or happy or anything else. My face told the story, she said.
I take a deep breath and release it slowly, repeating the process until I find my inner calm.
A car door closes outside.
Here we go…
Robin comes in, carrying a bottle of the rosé we both love and looking a little beat up, as if she’s been crying, perhaps. She’s tall and blonde and so pretty, she makes me ache. The only outward sign of her illness is that she’s thinner than she probably ought to be. She had a double mastectomy with reconstruction several years ago that retained her curves, not that it matters to me, but it did to her.
I wipe my hands on a dishtowel for something to do.
Normally, I’d greet her with a hug and a kiss, but today, I keep my distance.
“Hi,” she says with a sheepish grin that turns my insides to putty. I love that little grin. “This is a fine mess we find ourselves in.”
I laugh, and the tension is broken. I love that about her, the way she cuts through the crap with one sentence that sums things up.
“Indeed it is.”
“I’m so sorry, Hallie. I know you’re upset, and with good reason… I never saw this coming. I had no idea he was thinking about this or… Well, I didn’t know he was worried about the kids.”
I go to her because I can’t not go to her.
We wrap our arms around each other.
“I was afraid I’d lost you over this one,” she says softly.
“You haven’t lost me, but I have thoughts.”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. I’m not sure when it happened, but your voice has become the one that matters most to me. Your thoughts are the ones I most want to hear.”
See how she does that? How can I not love her?
“Let’s open this bottle of wine and talk it out.”
She takes care of opening the bottle while I get the glasses.
We take them onto my back deck, where fairy lights are strung through nearby trees to create a magical atmosphere that Robin complimented the first time she saw it. We’ve spent many hours out here together since the first night she visited my home. The autumn scents of woodsmoke and decaying leaves are heavy in the air.
“Ah,” she says on a long exhale as we land on the love seat and put our feet up. “I feel like I can finally breathe again. Today has been a lot.”
“Yes, it has.”
She looks over at me with liquid brown eyes full of emotion. “I’m sorry to have done that to you, but I wanted to be honest with you.”
“Which I certainly appreciate. Don’t think that’s not the case.”
“I know you do, but I wouldn’t blame you for telling me to fuck off and get out of your life.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because I care. I might even love you a little, and when you love someone, you don’t cut and run when it gets hard.”
She blinks when tears suddenly appear.
I hand her a napkin from the stack I brought out with the crackers and cheese we haven’t touched.
“It’s been hard from the get-go for you. Me and all my issues. Baby lesbian, recently divorced from a man, two young kids and terminal cancer. I’m one step away from being that toxic partner everyone warns you about.”
Again, I laugh. “You’re nowhere close to toxic. Trust me.”
“What are your thoughts about Kevin moving back in? Please tell me the truth.”
I take a second to get my thoughts together before I speak. “I know he’s thinking practicalities and that it’s not romantic.”
“I can’t speak for him, but it’s not for me. That is long over. Even if I hadn’t met you and had such an amazing connection with you, that would still be over for me. He’s a good man and a wonderful father, but our romantic and sexual relationship had been nonexistent for years before we finally split.”
She’s told me that before, but it helps to hear it again, especially in light of current events.
“Thank you for saying that again.”
“I mean it, Hal. I hope you know that.”
“I do, and I believe you. And I think it would be good for the kids to have him there, if needed.”
Her expression conveys confusion. “You do? Really?”
“Of course. Your health is precarious. He’s concerned about his kids, as any good father would be.”
“Okay, where’s the but ?”
“But… if he moves in to care for them, I move in to care for you.”
She stares at me for a long moment before she blinks. “Really?”
“Really. I don’t mind if he’s there for the kids, but I do mind if he’s there for you.”
“So what you’re saying is that…”
“We all live together like one big happy family for as long as we can.”
“And you’d be willing to do that?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
“Hallie…” Again with the tears.
I hand her another napkin.
“Are you for real? Why aren’t you running away screaming?”
“I ask myself that question every day.”
This time, we both laugh, even as she wipes away more tears.
“I hate that I’m doing this to you after what you’ve already been through.”
“I think that what I’ve been through has made it possible for me to take this on, knowing how it might end.”
She takes a sip of her wine. “How do you mean?”
“When Gwen died so suddenly, I didn’t have any of the coping skills that I’ve acquired in the years since. That’s not to say that losing you would be easier, because it wouldn’t be. It would be different, though. I have a support system I didn’t have then. I have knowledge about grief and grieving I didn’t have then. Every loss is painful and difficult and so, so sad, and I’d feel all those things if I lost you. But I’ve shown myself that I can survive it and even eventually thrive again.”
“You’re the strongest person I know.”
“No, you are. A lot of people would’ve snuggled into the status quo when faced with a diagnosis like yours. You blew up your whole life so you could live as authentically as possible in the time you have left. I think that makes you the strongest person there is.”
“We can nominate each other.”
“Fine. Be that way.”
“I don’t want to leave you sad and devastated.”
“I’ll be okay. I promise.”
“You really want to move in with me?”
“You don’t need me there right now. But if or when that time comes, I’ll be there. In the meantime, if your ex is back at home and there’s no need for me to move in any time soon, we have a built-in babysitter. You can come here after the kids are in bed.”
She rests her head on my shoulder. “There is that.”
I reach for her hand, relieved to have talked it out like adults and arrived at a solution that works for both of us.
“I love you, too, Hallie.”
Her words bring tears to my eyes. I grab the napkin from her lap to deal with the tears.
“Thank you for sticking with me when anyone else would’ve run away from this ridiculous situation.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”