Chapter 32
“It’s one birthday party, Naomi. You have to pick your battles.”
These are Ezra’s words of wisdom. We are strategizing for the next mediation session, again at my apartment.
We have given up on attempting to meet at his office, and now he just comes here when he’s done at the courthouse.
This time, he brought Chinese food. It’s not organic, but there’s nothing like good Chinese food after a rough day.
Ezra isn’t the only one who thinks I need to stop fuming about this party.
I had lunch with Cora yesterday, and while she was furious on my behalf, she had a different way of thinking about it.
Stop thinking about that asshole. Do something so fun with Teddy that the party pales in comparison!
When I pointed out that money was an issue, she said, As long as it involves ice cream, you’ll come out on top.
“I just wish I could be there,” I say, “for Teddy.”
Ezra pauses to chew on a piece of bok choy. “Teddy will have a great time. I’m sure he will. And then you’ll have your own party with him.”
We are supposed to be strategizing for the mediation session, but pretty much all we have talked about since he arrived is Teddy’s upcoming birthday party. It’s a little hard to get it out of my head. Thankfully, Ezra has been really patient and willing to discuss it endlessly.
It makes me think of what he told me last time he was here. How the fact that he wanted kids was what broke up his marriage.
“Do you still want kids?” I blurt out.
“Uh…” The question clearly makes him a little uncomfortable, but I don’t retract it. I watch as he puts down his container of food on my coffee table and leans back on the sofa. “Yes. Yes, I do. But realistically, I’m starting to think it might not happen.”
“Why not? You’re a man, so you could have kids until you’re ninety.”
“Right, but who wants to be taking care of a baby when they’re ninety years old?
” He cracks a smile. “I don’t know. Most women my age probably feel like their childbearing years are over.
And I’m really not interested in dating someone much younger than me.
So…like I said, I don’t know. If I met the right woman and she had a kid and I were a stepdad, that would be okay.
But realistically, I’m not sure I’ll ever get married again. ”
“Why not?”
“Occupational hazard, I guess.” He waves a hand at our Chinese food feast. “I can barely make time for my clients. I definitely can’t make time for dating.”
“That’s too bad.”
“You’re telling me.” He takes off his glasses so he can clean the lenses on his shirt. With his glasses off, he looks younger somehow. “Listen, Naomi. Can I give you a piece of advice?”
“That’s what I’m paying you for, isn’t it?”
He pushes his glasses back up his nose. “Right. I just don’t want you to take this the wrong way.”
“Okay…”
He looks down at my left hand pointedly. “You need to stop wearing your wedding ring.”
At his words, I instinctively cover the morganite ring on my left hand with my other hand. “Oh…”
“Your ex is trying to paint you as extremely unstable,” Ezra says. “You and I know he’s wrong about that, but he’s right about one thing. You’re having trouble letting go.”
“I…I like the ring…”
“It’s a nice ring,” he acknowledges. “But I’m sure you have other nice rings that you can wear. The problem with that ring is what it represents. And it’s not helping your case when you show up to the mediation sessions wearing it.”
I remember the other day when Jeremy yelled at me for still wearing my wedding ring. He was so harsh about it, it made me desperate to hold on to the ring. But Ezra isn’t being harsh. Everything he is saying makes a lot of sense, and he always has my best interest in mind.
So that’s why I slide the ring off my finger and place it on the coffee table.
“There,” he says. “Don’t you feel better?”
I don’t feel any better. I feel naked.
But at the same time, I recognize he’s right. I can’t keep wearing that ring when Jeremy and I are no longer living together and he is sleeping with another woman.
“It’s hard to let go,” I murmur.
“I know,” he says. “A lot of people have trouble with this part.”
“I just…” I squeeze my hands together. “I feel like this is it. Jeremy was my one chance at happiness, and now it’s over.”
He shifts on the sofa, leaning in closer to me. “That,” he says, “is ridiculous.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Naomi,” he says, “you deserve so much better than that asshole. You are an incredible person, and you are a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for. You are smart, you are a great mother, and…” He pauses. “And you’re beautiful.”
Do you want to hear something weird? In forty-two years, I’m not sure anyone has ever referred to me as beautiful.
My mother sure never did. There have been plenty of men over the years who were trying to get into my pants and told me I looked hot or whatever.
Jeremy…well, he would tell me I look nice.
But “beautiful”? I don’t think he ever used that particular word.
And I can’t fault him, because I’m not actually beautiful.
I mean, if I am beautiful, then I think we need an entirely new word to describe somebody like Veronica.
But the weirdest part is that Ezra seems like he’s being sincere. He’s looking straight at me and not doing anything to indicate that he’s hoping his words will get me into bed. He just says it like he’s stating a fact.
He thinks I’m beautiful. Okay.
“Well, thank you,” I finally say.
“I mean it,” he says back, his eyes still locked on mine.
For a split second, I feel a little short of breath from the way he’s looking at me—in a way that I’m not sure Jeremy ever looked at me.
It’s almost too much, if I’m being honest, and I wonder if I should say something, but then he flashes me a self-effacing grin that instantly lightens the mood.
“Stef always told me I was bad at giving compliments. So, you know, I’m working on it. ”
Ah, this is compliment practice. That makes more sense. “Good job,” I say, giving him an awkward thumbs-up.
“Thank you.”
We finish off the rest of the Chinese food and talk about the case a little more. Ezra has my documents in a thick folder stuffed into his giant bulging briefcase, but he seems to know where everything is, so I’m not going to knock him for it.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to just carry around your laptop instead of all those papers?” I ask him.
“I like to print everything out,” he says. “I don’t trust computers entirely. I feel like I can’t be sure something isn’t going to disappear unless I have it on paper.”
I laugh. “You’re too young to mistrust technology.”
“Oh, I’m definitely not.” He shuffles through the pages of my file. “I like things a certain way. Some people call it weird, but…I don’t know, that’s how I’ve always been, and it works for me.”
“Yes,” I say. “I noticed right away that you have a different kind of energy than most people.”
“Yeah,” he says, “I kind of noticed that about you too.”
I’m not sure exactly what he means by that. But I decide to take it as another compliment.
I pick up two of the three fortune cookies from the coffee table. I hand one to him and keep one for myself. “This was my favorite part of the meal when I was a kid.”
“Still my favorite.” Ezra cracks his open and pulls out the tiny strip of paper inside. “Okay, here we go: Your road to glory will be paved in jagged stones. Hmm. I’m not sure if I like that one. What does yours say?”
“A dubious friend may be an enemy in disguise,” I read.
Despite the fact that I don’t believe fortune cookies could possibly have any bearing on real life, something about that fortune makes me uneasy.
“Wow, these are kind of ominous,” Ezra comments. He nods at the final cookie, lying on the table. “I’ll let you have the do-over.”
I pick up the other cookie on the table and crack it open. “You will be invited to a karaoke party.”
He gives me a thumbs-up. “Much better. A karaoke party seems really fun.”
I would have preferred a fortune along the lines of, You’re going to get sole custody of your son. Or even better, Your husband will realize that hot twentysomething is taking advantage of him and come back to you.
“Ezra?” I say.
“Uh-huh?”
“Do you really think I’m going to get custody of Teddy?”
“Definitely.” After a pause, he reaches into the outer pocket of his briefcase. He fishes around for a moment, then finally pulls out a translucent crystal. “How could we lose when I’ve got this for luck?”
It’s the quartz I gave him that first day at town hall. I assumed he would have lost it by now or even thrown it away. “You still have it,” I say in a slightly stunned voice.
“Of course I do,” he says, as if it would be ridiculous for him not to be carrying my crystal around with him everywhere he goes.
Ezra has to be in court early tomorrow again, so he gathers up his papers, and I walk him to the door.
I didn’t expect him to stay quite this long, but somehow, the evening just flew by.
Even though I’m tired, I sort of don’t want him to leave.
After five years of living with two boys in the house, this apartment feels painfully empty at night.
I almost want to ask him if he’d like to stick around to watch something on TV, but I’m sure he’ll say no.
I look down at Ezra’s overstuffed briefcase. “I hope you get some sleep tonight.”
“Sleep is for the weak.”
“Well, either way, thank you again,” I say. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. When this is all over, I’m going to leave you an amazing review online. I’ll say that you do house calls with Chinese food.”
“Uh, please don’t do that,” he says. “House calls with Chinese food and Buddha bowls are not my standard practice.”
“No?”
“Definitely not.”
“Well,” I say, “then I appreciate it even more.”
Ezra steps out my front door, but he doesn’t turn around to walk back to his car. He just stands there for a moment, his face in shadow from the moonlight. He seems like he’s got something to say, so I stand there, waiting for him.
“I just want you to know,” he finally says, “that I’m going to win this for you, Naomi. I’m going to get you everything you deserve. I’ll make sure of it.”
“Thank you,” I say softly.
He opens his mouth again, but nothing comes out. He just stands there, less than a foot away from me. And I can’t help but think back to earlier in the evening, back when he called me beautiful.
“What is it?” I press him. “Is there something else you want to say?”
“There is,” he confirms. “There definitely is.” He tightens his grip on his briefcase until his knuckles turn white. “But if I said it, I would get disbarred.”
I raise an eyebrow. And then I can’t help but think of what Cora told me, about Miranda marrying her divorce lawyer. Or was it Samantha? Either way, it’s suddenly stuck in my head.
And actually, Ezra is pretty cute. No, he’s not classically handsome the way Jeremy is, but there’s something about him. I feel like we’re somehow on the same wavelength, much more so than I ever was with my husband. After all, Jeremy never would’ve carried around that quartz crystal.
But then he shakes his head. “Never mind,” he says.
“Oh,” I say, trying not to let on that I’m a little disappointed.
He offers me a tired smile. “Good night, Naomi.”
“Good night, Ezra.”
I watch him walk back to his car—a beat-up Ford that seems to have a busted taillight—and he’s slightly stooped over from the weight of his giant briefcase. Before he gets into his car, he waves at me one last time, and I wave back.