11. Teeny
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Teeny
NOW
“He stayed the night?!”
I look at Grace, my eyes rolling at her laughable assumption. “Not like that. I zonked out on the couch and he…I’m sure he slept somewhere where he was able to keep a safe distance and make sure I didn’t die from alcohol poisoning.”
She side-eyes with skepticism.
“Also, that was totally your fault.”
“How so?”
“You gave him my keys. And address.”
Her palms face the ceiling, playing innocent. “You were drunk. I couldn’t let you drive.” I poke at her shoulder, and she rubs the spot as a smirk slips through the annoyed scowl on my face. “How do you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you know he didn’t spend the night watching you sleep like some creepy serial killer?”
“Because he wouldn’t, Grace,” I tell her, sounding a little exasperated. I take a long sip of the red wine in my glass and pick at the sushi we got for takeout while sitting on the floor of her living room. Buster hides under the coffee table, his tail thumping against the carpet, as he peers up at us, hoping to nab a rollaway salmon roll. “Besides, it’s not like that between us anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“We’re ancient history,” I explain, avoiding her scrutinizing gaze.
“That did not look like ancient history,” she argues, waggling a freshly manicured finger in my direction. “That looked like…”
“What?” I humor her, my face deadpanned.
“Like fireworks.”
I snort. “You are so delusional.”
“Come back to me after Josh’s wedding when he gets to see you all glammed up in that green dress.” She jabs her chopsticks in the air, stamping her point.
I groan. “Ugh, don’t remind me.” My hands move to my face, tension coiling at my temples as soon as I realize I haven’t seen the last of him. “I’m going to have to see him with his stupidly perfect face and his stupidly perfect hair in a stupidly perfect tux. All while I’m going to be up there at the altar with him.”
“He is pretty stupidly perfect.”
“Tell me about it.” We each stuff our faces with a sliver of sashimi before I look at her. “Leo came by. He picked up Sadie to take her to camp. Said he wanted to take me out to dinner so we could ‘talk.’” I use air quotes when I say the last word, unsure of all the ambiguity behind his request to have a chat with me.
“And did you have dinner with him?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I told him if he needs to talk to me, I’ll be in touch with my lawyer.”
“What did he say to that ?”
“He got angry. Gave me the whole, ‘You’re not really divorcing me?’ spiel.”
She rolls her eyes. “Did you talk to my lawyer? You got my email, right? With all her contact info?”
“I called her.” I nod and run a hand through my hair. “It’s a lot of work. A lot of paperwork, going over our financial history, our assets like our home and cars and investments.”
“And Sadie.”
“And Sadie,” I repeat. My lower lip twists under the pressure of my teeth, and I look at Grace, concern etched on her face. “Can I be completely honest with you?”
She nods.
“What if…what if I just stayed. And I—I just swept this affair under the rug. For Sadie and—” My eyes round into a sad pout, and I suddenly feel ashamed.
“Teen, if that’s what you want, then I can’t tell you otherwise.” We sit in contemplating silence before she adds, “ Is it what you want?”
“No.” More silence, this one more despondent and mournful. “I just…I’m scared to be alone,” I tell her, saying the words I’ve been avoiding for so long. “And what if this is it? Like, what if no one will ever want me, and I’ll just be this single mom raising Sadie fifty percent of the time?”
“Then you go be a single mom.”
I huff a sad sigh, the first of tears starting to make my eyes blurry. “That sounds like fun,” I say sardonically.
“No, Teeny,” she urges. “I mean it. I know it sounds scary, but you can do it. Screw Leo and his little whore.”
“That’s not very ‘girl power’ of us.”
“Oh, fuck that shit!” she exclaims, drawing a loose chuckle out of me. “She knew he was married. Obviously Leo should be taking the brunt of the fault, but she is a grown ass woman who knew better. And I don’t care whatever daddy issues made her go for a married man, she earned that title.”
I wipe at my cheek as a tear slips and smile at her, unable to disagree.
“Teeny, you can do it. You can. You are a strong woman, and I know you can do this shit on your own. If you want to stay with Leo because you love him and you want your marriage to work, then that’s a different story, but don’t stay with him because you don’t believe you deserve better.”
I nod, realizing how true her words ring. “You’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right,” she answers with a smug smile. She reaches for the wine bottle, emptying its contents between our two glasses before lifting hers up in the air. I follow her lead with a small appreciative laugh. “To strong ass single divorced women.”
“To us.”
* * *
In an attempt to stay busy rather than moping around the house without Sadie home, I spend my Sunday evening with an easy, unintentional drive to my parents’ house. It’s not out of the ordinary for us kids to come over for dinner. Andrew, being the only single member of the family, is usually the most frequent flier with the free food and Tupperware containers of leftovers he takes with him in heaps. So when I arrive, I’m not surprised to see Andrew answer the door.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” He peers over my shoulder, most likely looking for my husband and daughter. “No Leo or Sadie?”
“Sadie’s at camp, and Leo is…busy.”
He nods, not caring further than my explanation, and I enter the house. I find my mom in the living room, surrounded by piles of baby blue and beige in silk and hemp. “What is this?” I ask.
She looks up at me, smoothing her hand over the delicate material resting on her lap. “I had my hanbok at the tailor to fix some of the loose hems, and I just picked it up.” She urges me to sit in the empty spot next to her, letting me stroke a hand over the dress. “It’s beautiful, no?”
My heart melts as she watches me take in the beauty of the dress. “It is.” Flash images of my mom wearing the same traditional Korean garb to my wedding floods my mind. She was there, moving around gracefully as she shined as the mother of the bride, smiling proudly at me and Leo.
She holds it up, admiring it as if she hasn’t had this dress carefully stored in her closet for the last few decades. “Why don’t you try it on?”
“It’s yours,” I oppose.
“So,” she urges. “Come on. The last time I saw you in one of these was when you were a baby.”
I give in, unable to say no to her hopeful smile. I slip on the dress, putting on the layers with my mom’s instructions and tying the bow at my chest with more of my mom’s help. It’s like I’m a child again, having her dress me with her gentle guidance and shining eyes taking me in. Before I know it, my dad’s brought out the full-length mirror from their room and the three of us are looking at the reflection. It’s like no time has passed. I’m that little toddler, proud to be standing between my parents while they beam at me with pride.
“It’s really beautiful, Mom.”
She rests her hands on my shoulders. “You know, the first time I wore this was to your wedding.”
“Really?”
She nods.
“I thought you had this before.”
“I bought this for your wedding, and then I wore it to James’s wedding, and now I’m going to wear it to Josh’s.”
“And hopefully Andrew’s if he gets his head out of his ass anytime soon,” my dad adds dryly.
“How did I get roped into this conversation?” Andrew calls from his spot on the couch, the remote held loosely in his hand and his ankle draped on his knee.
“And maybe one day,” my mom continues, ignoring my dad and my brother’s harmless banter, “you’ll wear one just like this to Sadie’s wedding.”
I laugh endearingly. To think that I could one day be the mother of the bride, just like my mom was, walking down the aisle with my dad to give me away to the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with.
I realize how different the circumstances would be. Leo and I wouldn’t be married any longer. He might even have a new wife, waiting in the aisles for Leo to give Sadie away while I slump back into my seat without a partner to hold my hand or slip me a tissue when I start crying. And then I start to think of all the things we’ll have to do as a divorced couple. Handle Sadie’s birthday parties and school dances, graduation, sending her off to college. Leo and I wouldn’t be holding each other, consoling the other through shared tears and assurances that our baby girl is now an independent adult.
I shove those thoughts away, worried I may blubber into a puddle of tears right into my mom’s freshly pressed dress. I remove the dress as my mom starts prattling off the various meats my dad needs to pull out of his decades-old smoker in the backyard. Andrew joins him, hoping to get the first taste of his brisket outside by the pool.
“Have you gotten your bridesmaid dress?” my mom asks me, taking the garment bag I carefully placed all the fragile material in.
“Not yet,” I tell her. “But I ordered it, and it should be ready in a week or two.”
She nods and walks off to the kitchen to finish preparing dinner. I follow her footsteps, ready to help her with whatever she needs. “I saw Mina’s wedding dress,” she tells me. “It looks so beautiful. Josh is going to love it.”
She’s preoccupied, focused on cleaning off some vegetables before she starts chopping away at them on the cutting board.
“Leo has to rent a tux, no? Unless he has one?—”
“Leo isn’t going to be there,” I blurt out.
The clack-clack noise of the sharp blade hitting wood comes to a halt. “Why?”
I take a cleansing breath, ready to rip off the Band-Aid. I give her a look that says everything I need to say. Disappointment, dejection, remorse. It’s all there, right between the lines creasing my face and my downturned eyes. She places her knife down and rushes to me. “Oh, Teeny. What happened?”
I expected to cry or break down, but I don’t do either. Instead, my voice sounds level and calm as I tell her. “He cheated on me.”
A whoosh of breath leaves her mouth, and it’s like I can feel the pressure expel out of her chest. “He cheated on you?”
“I kicked him out,” I continue to explain. “James and Josh know.”
“And Sadie?”
“We haven’t told her yet.”
She squeezes my shoulders in her hands and forces me to look at her. It’s then I start to feel the sting of tears hit behind my nose. “You’re going to be fine, Christine. You hear me?”
I silently nod.
“We are going to take this one day at a time, and you will be fine .”
“Yeah,” I croak.
She pulls me into a hug, the sounds of my dad and Andrew bickering about proper meat-smoking temperatures echoing off the walls outside. We stay there, her hand running up and down my back and my chin resting on her shoulder, until I feel like maybe what she said is true. Maybe I will be fine. I’ll pick up the shattered pieces of my life, scooping all the fragments and shards into my own little dustpan. And maybe one day, those itty-bitty pieces will turn into something. Something that glitters and shines with hope, and I’ll look back at this moment and realize I worried for nothing.