Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
AINSLEY
I stayed home with Maisy the next day, periodically refilling her soup and drink. While she was sleeping, I scrubbed and sanitized every inch of our house, washing all the bedding and shampooing all the carpets.
If I didn’t get ahead of it, the sickness would wash through our house like the plague, taking each of us out for a few days. If I managed to catch it, the family would fall apart. Without me at the helm, our ship wouldn’t manage a single night at sea. I’d seen it happen too many times.
My phone rang out from the living room, interrupting my scrubbing of the bathroom countertop, and I dropped the sponge, drying my hands and hurrying toward the sound.
When I reached it and saw the name on the screen, I was tempted to turn back around.
Instead, I found myself lifting the phone to my ear and forcing a cheerful voice. “Hey, Mom. ”
“Hello,” she said, her tone crisp. “Have you talked to your father? ” She drew out the word.
Fine, thanks. How are you?
“Um, no. No, I haven’t. Should I have?”
She huffed dramatically as I picked at a piece of lint on top of the sofa. “Well, I’ve been trying to call him to check in about how we’re going to do Dylan’s birthday next month. But I haven’t heard back in a few days.”
“Do you think something’s wrong?”
Another dramatic sigh. “No, I think he’s probably in Cabo with Jessica, or Costa Maya with Eleanor, or L.A. with Naomi, or somewhere else with a floozy whose eyelashes are bigger than her brain—”
“I get it,” I said, cutting her off. Though it had been my mother’s affair that ended their marriage, it was my father who seemed to have made the most of their divorce—a point of contention with my mother. “Do you want me to call him?”
“No, no… There’s no sense in that. If he can’t be bothered to check up on his family, then we can’t force him to.” She drew in a long inhale. “It’s up to you and me, like always.” She clicked her tongue, dragging her sentences out longer and longer. “Always up to us…”
I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Well, Mom, I think Dylan just wants to do something quiet. If you want to come over for dinner and cake, that’s fine, but we’re not planning anything big this year. He mentioned bringing his new girlfriend over…”
“Girlfriend?” she squealed. “That’s when it starts, isn’t it? Are they having sex yet? The last thing he needs is a teenage pregnancy when he’s got such a bright future— ”
“Mom, please,” I cut her off again. “I’ve got it all under control, okay?”
“Are you sure? I know how you get with these things…”
“What things?” I demanded.
“Well, you just really don’t know how to handle men who aren’t perfect. You got lucky with Peter. He’s so calm. So tame. But those boys…what if they take after your father, rather than theirs ? You can’t just let them do whatever they want, Ainsley. You have to be on top of things. Testing, talks… Have you thought about having them see a counselor? Are you providing them with condoms? Have you talked to their doctors about HPV vaccinations?”
I recalled the mandatory monthly visits to the doctor from the time I’d started my period as a child. At my mother’s insistence, I was tested for STDs constantly, long before I was having sex.
Though I tried to tell her that, she never believed me.
Never believed in me.
No matter what I was doing or what I said, she’d never trusted me. I wouldn’t do that to my kids. I wanted a better relationship with them than that.
“They’re fine. We’ve had the talk with Dylan, okay? I don’t need you to lecture me on—”
“Lecture you? This is lecturing? I was under the impression I was just checking up on my daughter. That’s your problem, Ainsley. You’re so defensive. It’s a wonder it hasn’t scared Peter off, honestly. You need to loosen up.”
“How did we even get on this subject?” I groaned. “We’re doing Dylan’s birthday dinner at home this year. You can come if you want. I’ll make his favorite food, and I’ll order him a cake. You don’t need to do anything but show up.”
“Well, alright. Excuse me for thinking I might be useful. Did you invite your father already?”
“I haven’t talked to him, I told you.”
“Good.” She was quiet for a moment. “It’d be better if you separated the two of us. Maybe he could come over on a different day. Not that he’ll come anyway.”
“I don’t know if he will or not. I can let you know.”
“Yes, do that. If he’s coming, I’ll come on a different day. You’ll explain that to Dylan, won’t you? It’s just too hard.”
“I thought you just said you were trying to plan something with him?”
“Well, obviously, he has no interest in doing that with me. And he’ll probably end up bringing a date.”
I closed my eyes, trying to remain composed. If anyone could cause me to lose control of my rage, it was my mother. “Why don’t you bring a date, then?”
She scoffed. “Do you know what it’s like for women our age to date?”
Our age? I ran a finger across my lips.
“I’m telling you,” she went on, “hold on to Peter, Ainsley. The world isn’t kind to divorced women. You hold on to what you’ve got.” I heard her take a sip of something and glanced at the clock. It hadn’t yet hit noon, and already she’d been drinking. But I couldn’t control her anymore. I needed to focus on what I could still control. “Did you get that email I forwarded you about the new gym in your area? That photo you posted on Facebook looked like you might’ve gained a little weight. I’m sure Peter wants you to keep yourself up. I was looking into Botox for you, too. I’ve been getting it personally, and it’s a night and day difference for those little crow’s-feet you’ve got around your eyes. Do you want me to send over my girl’s information? She charges—”
“Mom,” I cut her off, my chest tight. “Thank you, but no. I’m okay. Peter and I are fine. Our kids are fine. My weight and wrinkles are fine. Everything’s fine. I promise. You should get yourself out. Join a yoga class or a book club…”
She took another drink. “Yeah, maybe I’ll do that. Your father would like that, wouldn’t he? He’s not the only one who can move on, is he? Hmph.” She took a deep, excited breath. “You know what? Maybe we could do a yoga class together? I know this great little place. Tina was telling me all about it—”
“Mom, I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go. Maisy’s home sick, and she needs me.” I glanced toward the hall, toward the still silent bedroom. If I had to stay in this conversation for another second, I wasn’t sure I’d survive it.
“Sick? Oh, heavens. Is she okay?”
I cringed, picturing the ambulance showing up at my door after I’d broken the news. “She’s fine. It’s just a stomach bug. Very minor. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay, let me know if you hear from your father.”
“I will.”
“And don’t tell him I’m asking.”
“I won’t.”
“Tell him I joined a yoga class. Tell him I’m looking better than ever. ”
“Bye, Mom.” I ended the call without waiting for a response, sinking down onto the sofa with a sigh. I should get back to cleaning, but I could feel a headache coming on.
My parents' weird relationship had always been a major stressor all my life, but somehow, I’d imagined it would get better as I got older. Once I had a family of my own. Instead, they’d gotten a messy divorce, and it had just gotten…weirder?
The two were constantly trying to outdo each other.
It seemed miserable and exhausting.
I thought back to the early days, when the news of my mother’s affair had gotten out. I’d been sixteen, and none of it made sense to me. It was shortly after that when I’d met him.
The boy I thought would provide me with a means of escaping my family.
The first boy I’d ever loved.
I shook him from my head. Lately, I’d been thinking about him more and more, and I had no idea why.
I pushed myself up from the couch, moving back to the kitchen to finish cleaning, turning on a podcast to keep my mind occupied.
I had enough on my mind.
I had no desire to relive that time—the darkness, the pain. It was over, and I’d moved on.