Chapter 11
eleven
. . .
W hen I get back to my new, outdated apartment, my mood isn’t any better. I’m angry, pissed off, and frankly, exhausted from feeling all those things. Yet, no matter what I do, my ex finds a way to twist her serrated knife a little bit more, to make me feel pain I never thought I’d feel. I open the refrigerator and wish beer would appear. I haven’t bought any because I don’t want to give Aubrey ammunition to use against me in any proceedings.
“He drinks in front of Amelie.” My mind changes her voice from the one I love—well loved—to some nasally whiny nails on the chalkboard sound. She’s never sounded like how I’m imagining, but she needs to in my mind right now because hearing her voice still sends a fucking jolt to my system.
Loved.
Who am I joking? I still love her and probably will for some time. But I can’t think of anything but her kissing that man across the street. It wasn’t a friendly kiss. Not like the kisses she gave me weeks ago. No, that was a thanks for rocking my world, can’t wait to see you tonight kiss. I know those kisses. I’ve lived with them for many, many years.
Now, I live with nothing but painful memories that my mind keeps telling me have been filled with lies and deceit. How has she moved on already? I find it impossible, unless he’s the reason she’s moved us here.
No, she didn’t move us . She moved here and demanded her children come with her, because no matter what, at the end of the day, she’s a mother, and a damn good one.
I moved here out of my own selfish need. I wanted her to want me, to see that she needed me, but she didn’t. Aubrey placated me until she’d had enough.
But then . . . why make love to me? Why tell me she wanted to try and fix things?
None of it makes sense, and I don’t think I’ll get an answer out of her any time soon. She knows cheating is a hard limit for me.
Nope.
Just like now.
“Ugh,” I push my hands into my hair and tug on the ends, pulling until my scalp screams and burns. Honestly, that feels better than the giant hole in my chest does. I look down, expecting to see a red spot or blood oozing from the gaping wound left by Aubrey.
Another flash of her and the man across the street.
They’d definitely been together, I surmise. The way he tilted her head back with the lift of her chin. The way he brushed her hair out of her face, curling the loose strands behind her ear. Her breasts, full and voluptuous, pressing into his chest while her fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants. I can only imagine her smile. The same one she’d given to me for years she now gave to someone else.
I take my phone from my pocket and dial the director of my program. He begged me to come back, to be on staff, and I reluctantly agreed knowing I needed an out when things went south. They are as far south as they’re going to get in my opinion.
“Nick, what can I do for you,” Kirk says when our call connects.
“I need to get out of my contract,” I tell him, only to realize I should’ve started off with some elaborate excuse, like my mom’s sick or my house flooded. Neither of which are true, and ideas I don’t want to put out in the universe. Mostly because I hate lying about situations that could come true. Honesty is the best and only policy. Deep down, this is something Aubrey and I should’ve practiced a year ago when she began to turn my advances away. Instead, I retreated to the office and slept on the couch. That was my mistake.
There’s a long pause, followed by a sigh. “I can’t do that, Nick.”
Somewhere, deep in the recesses of my mind, I knew this. “I don’t need the money,” I tell him. “I’ll pay back what you’ve given me.”
“Nick, it’s not that. We need you. Now that you’re signed on until November, others are heading home to see their families. I can’t tell them they can’t go.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing full well I should’ve never agreed to this. “Things aren’t good for me here,” I tell him. “Aubrey and I?—”
“I heard,” he says. “Honestly, I was a bit surprised by the whole thing.”
“Yeah.” I was but wasn’t. It’s not like she didn’t tell me she wanted this months ago.
“I guess I didn’t realize you weren’t together when you moved here.”
“I didn’t move here . . .” His words give me pause. It wasn’t necessarily what he said, but how he said it. “What do you mean?”
“Just that I’m surprised she’s engaged. She came into the office the other day, flashing a ring around. From what Jokoba says, they’ve been together for a year now.”
Everything in me dies. Every. Single. Part.
“Nick?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t know she was engaged?”
I clear my throat. “Kirk, up until a few weeks ago, we were still fucking. Hell, technically, we’re still married until the divorce papers are finalized. So no, I didn’t know my wife was having an affair.” I hang up. Talking to him isn’t going to get me anywhere. Only after, do I realize I should’ve left my dirty laundry in the hamper and not shared it on the clothesline.
I’m pretty certain I pace a hole into the floor of my apartment. The downstairs neighbor probably wonders what I’m doing to make the floor creak. I know I’d be fearful that the ceiling was going to fall in with how rickety everything feels.
The alarm on my phone sounds, it’s time to pick Amelie up from school. On the days I have her, I like to give Talisa time off. She’s still paid, but I want to be more hands on. On my drive, I think about how life is going to be when I leave here, how things are going to be for Amelie. Will she solely depend on Talisa or will Aubrey be as present as she was back in Beaumont. I really want to know what she’s thinking or if she thought I’d find out.
Should I say something to her ?
Every fiber of my being wants to ask her what the fuck is going on. I feel as if I’m owed an explanation. Do I want to hear about her affair? No, I don’t. I don’t need the details. Just the why. Why not just leave me? Us? Why the big song and dance?
I slam my hand against the steering wheel in aggravation. The more I think about the situation, the angrier I become. What’s the point? She’s likely to lie or tell me it’s none of my business when I think it is.
Did this man come to Beaumont?
Was he in our home?
Our bed?
Around our children?
Amelie comes toward the car, with a bright smile on her face. I know I’m going to tell her before I can even think about the pros and cons. She has to know, mostly for my own peace of mind.
“Hi, Daddy,” she says as she climbs into the back. “How was your day?”
“Hey, sweetie.” I steer the car back into traffic and turn toward the apartment, thankful it’s a five-minute drive. “How was school?” I ask, avoiding her question.
“Meh,” she says shrugging. I catch the act in the rearview mirror and smile. She’s animated, adventurous, and temperamental. The latter comes with age and I know she’ll grow out of it. Damn it, I’m going to miss her, and hate the idea of leaving her. I don’t care if I have months left, leaving her behind is going to destroy my soul.
Amelie catches me staring and gives me a wide, beautiful toothy smile. I love her more than my own life. Her and Mack. My pride and joy. The best parts of me.
I park and help her out of the car, carrying her backpack. She leads us upstairs and waits for me to unlock the door. For everything she’s going through, she’s managing well.
“Can I watch TV?”
“How much homework do you have?”
“Some reading and spelling words.”
“Let’s do that first, and then you can watch TV while I make dinner.”
“Can we call Mack?” she asks as she empties her backpack onto the table. I look at the calendar app on my phone and see that he has a game.
“Probably not,” I tell her. “He’s got a game, so he’ll be busy after school.”
“I miss him.”
“I know. Me too.”
Beyond measure. Being separated from him is the worst feeling in the world.
I help Amelie with her homework. We run through her spelling words, mastering them by the third try. She sets off to the living room to watch her show while I whip us up something to eat. After dinner, she showers and then joins me on the couch.
“I want to talk to you about something,” I tell her. She sits crossed legged in front of me, with the most serious ten-year-old expression she can muster. “It’s adult stuff.”
Her nose crinkles. I can’t say I don’t blame her.
“You know Mom and I love you very much, right?” She nods. “And you know we’re not going to live in the same house anymore, right?” Her happy-go-lucky expression changes. The sadness in her eyes breaks my heart.
“You’re going back to live with Mack, aren’t you?”
I shake my head slowly. “Not right away, but yes, I will. Your mom wants you to stay here with her, and Mack needs to stay in Beaumont. But once he’s done with high school, I’ll move back here with you. Okay?”
Amelie nods, but the smile doesn’t return.
“Some more adult stuff,” I tell her. “I want you to know, that if there’s ever a situation that you don’t like or you need me, I’m only a phone call away.” I hold my phone up. “There are going to be some changes in your life and they might be hard to deal with. You may not like them.” Lord knows I don’t. “And well . . .” I’m suddenly at a loss for words. How do I tell my impressionable daughter that her mother is marrying another man?
I don’t. It’s not my job. It’s Aubrey’s.
“Just know, I’m always here. I don’t care what time of night it is or whether you think I’m sleeping. If you need me, you call me.”
“I don’t have a phone,” she whispers as if I didn’t know this.
“You will tomorrow. I’ll make sure of it.” And tomorrow, when she goes to her mom’s I’ll take her because Aubrey owes me an answer or two.
My phone rings. Josie’s picture fills my screen. I accept her video call and wait for it to connect. “Hey,” I say as soon as I see her. “Where are you?”
“Hi Amelie,” she says before addressing me. “Mack’s pitching. I thought you’d like to watch the game.”
My heart swells with adoration for the woman on the other side of the phone. I’ll never forgive myself for making things difficult for her when Liam returned. It’s hard watching your family slip away knowing there isn’t anything you can do it about. Sort of like now. Except, this divorce business with Aubrey is different. I’m not losing my kids, just my wife. A wife who truly doesn’t want me anymore.
“Thanks, Josie.”
Amelie sits close to me as I hold the phone in front of us. Josie turns the camera toward the field and there’s my son, wearing the same number I did when I played. Mack stands on the mound, ball in one hand and his mitt resting on his thigh. He’s waiting for the okay to start, to stare the batter down. I’ve been there before. Same with Liam. Then Noah. And now Mack.
“Hey, did I miss anything?”
I hear Noah’s voice. Tears threaten to spill, but I fight them back. He leans in front of the phone and waves.
“Hey, Dad,” he says, catching me off guard. My breathing hitches and I’m thankful he can’t the quick intake of breath.
“Hey, Noah. How’s it going?”
“Great.”
“Hi, Noah,” Amelie waves. I think she has a crush on Noah. And Quinn. And, my luck, JD.
“Yo, Amelie. What are you doing, beautiful girl?”
Suddenly, she’s bashful and giggling.
I hear, “Play ball,” and my anxiety skyrockets.
“Steeeerike,” the ump says. Josie and everyone cheers Mack on and I fist pump.
The first three batters strike out. The first half of the inning is over. Josie gives me a play by play of who is batting and what’s going on.
“Mack’s up,” she says. I can faintly see my son coming up to bat and then the phone’s jostled.
“Sorry,” Liam’s voice calls out. “She’s trying to show you this shit through the fence. I moved you for a better shot.”
“Thanks.” I clear my throat, moving the frog size lump away from my windpipe.
The view is clear. I see my son step into the batter’s box, with the bases loaded. He lets the first pitch go by, ball. But the second, he sends it over the fence for a grand slam.
“Holy shit!” I’m jumping up and down, forgetting about the weak floors. Yelling for Mack, right along with Liam and everyone in the stands. Liam’s the loudest, rooting for my son, the boy he’s taken under his wing and helped shine.
I stay on the phone, watching the entire game, long after Amelie’s fallen asleep on the couch next to me. When it’s over, Liam hands the phone to Mack, whose smile beams from ear to ear. Someone, I’m assuming Liam or Noah, messes up Mack’s hat. He doesn’t care to fix it.
“Dad! I hit a grand slam!”
“You did. I saw it. I’m so proud of you and hey, you pitched a no-hitter. I’m going to need a copy of the newspaper tomorrow. I bet you’ll be on the front page.”
“Yep, just like you, Noah, and Liam.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“I’ll make sure Josie saves it for you. I miss you.”
“Ah, bud. Not as much as I miss you. I wish I could tell you I’m coming home, but I’m having some trouble getting out of my contract.”
“Dad, you can’t leave Amelie,” he tells me. “She needs you.”
I look down at the sleeping beauty next to me, whose feet are awfully close to places I’d rather them not be. I cross my leg, giving myself some protection.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I tell him. “I’m proud of you, son. So damn proud.”
“Thanks, Dad. I love you.”
“Love you too, bud.”
“Should I call Mom and tell her?”
I nod, even though I want to be selfish. “Yeah, I’d call her. But wait until you get up for school. She’s probably sleeping.” Or doing things she doesn’t want her son to interrupt.
“All right. Talk to you tomorrow.”
After he hangs up, I sit there, with nothing but the TV for lighting. We muted the sound hours ago, neither of us caring because Mack was playing. Resigned, I scoop Amelie up and carry her to bed. She wakes, just as I lay her down.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, baby girl.”
“How come Noah calls you Dad?”
I brush her hair away from her face. “Because a long time ago, when he was younger than you, I was his dad.”
“What about Uncle Liam?”
I sit on the side of her bed and tell her the story, the kid friendly one where we’re all one big happy family.
“That’s sad.”
“It is, but then I met your mom and we had you and Mack, and I was happy.”
“Are you happy now?”
I nod, even though I’m far from it. “I am. Now go to sleep. I love you.”
“Love you, night.”
“Love you more than you’ll ever know.” I leave her door cracked a smidge and then head into the shower where I let the tears I’ve held back all night flow freely.