Chapter 4 #2
“Hi, Mrs. Jennings,” the young blond lady behind the counter says with a big grin. “What can I get for you today?”
I don’t know why, but hearing her refer to me that way bothers me. She’s never heard me tell her my first name, so naturally she can’t call me by that, yet the name she called me makes me want to let her know who I am.
“Please, call me Jamie. Mrs. Jennings sounds so formal.”
For a moment or two, she looks surprised, like very few people bother to give them their name. Then she smiles again and says, “Okay, Jamie. How are you today? What can I get you?”
That little business straightened out, I look up at the board above her head that lists all the types of coffee the shop offers and say, “I think I’ll splurge today and get an iced latte with two pumps of caramel, thank you. And a blueberry scone heated with butter.”
She takes my money and gets to work assembling my order as I look around the shop for what table I want.
One in the very back near the bookcase filled with books nobody’s ever read looks perfect.
I take my seat and wait for my order to be ready, happy I made this decision to forgo all that cleaning up after the girls until later.
Or maybe Connor will come back and see it needs to be done, so he’ll take care of that business.
The thought barely enters my head before I roll my eyes. Of course, he won’t clean up. I can’t remember a single occasion when my husband ever did anything like that. He doesn’t even put away his clean clothes when I leave them ready for him in a basket on his side of the bed.
Would it be so hard to pitch in once in a while?
“Jamie! Order for Jamie!” the girl behind the counter calls out, and I hurry up to get my coffee and scone.
We exchange pleasantries, and on the way back to my table, the sweet scent of blueberries fills my nose as steam wafts up from the scone. Thanks to my new friend’s suggestion, I know this one will be much better than last time.
Eager to dive in to my treat, I break off a piece and pop it into my mouth.
Even though it’s very moist due to the butter, it’s too hot, and I hurriedly take a drink of my iced latte to wash it down.
Consumed by trying to stop the scone from burning the roof of my mouth, I don’t see Kelsey until she’s standing next to my table.
“Let me guess,” she says with a chuckle. “It’s not as dry as the Sahara, but now it’s too hot. I should have mentioned that to you when I told you about the butter trick. I hope you didn’t burn your mouth.”
I motion to the chair on the other side of the table and nod. “I did, but thankfully, I got myself an iced latte today, so I was able to cool things down nicely. Join me. I’m here celebrating a night off.”
My friend’s expression tells me she doesn’t understand, so when she sits down, I explain myself. “My daughters are at a friend’s house having a sleepover, so it’s a free night for me.”
Kelsey’s eyes light up, but that accentuates her scars so she returns to looking like herself quite quickly. “Doesn’t that mean you and your husband can have a night to yourselves? I have to imagine having two young daughters means you don’t get many nights like that.”
I don’t want to show her how unlikely that is and how unhappy I am about that fact, but it’s impossible for me to keep how I feel a secret.
My mother used to say I never had an emotion that didn’t cross my face, and although I’ve had to get much better controlling my expressions since dealing with all the mothers at gymnastics, I doubt I could hide my disgust with Connor at this moment.
Still, I can’t go raving about my husband’s behavior since no one wants that, so I force a smile and answer her question. “Maybe, but Connor has a lot on his plate these days. He’s probably going to be busy with work tonight.”
Instinctively, I watch her face for any clue to what she feels about that. I’ve learned dealing with all the mothers at gymnastics that what people truly think isn’t always clear by what they say. No, the truth is usually found in a person’s expression.
I don’t see any reaction from Kelsey, which I hope means she doesn’t pity me. Of all the things people can feel about me, pity is the worst. I’ve seen it on the faces of some of the mothers when they look at Maris, and I just don’t think I could deal with anyone feeling that way about me.
“Well, it’s still nice to have some time to yourself, right?” she asks before brushing a crumb off her pale blue T-shirt that’s very flattering on her.
I consider mentioning how much I like that shirt on her, but I’m not sure we’re at that place in our friendship, so I simply answer her question.
“It is. So for the next hour, I’m going to sit here and relax.
After that, I’m not sure what I want to do.
I have to admit that’s a nice thing, though.
Most days, every moment is planned out with activities and chores I have to get out of the way. ”
She turns around to face the board and then looks back at me. “I think you’ve got the right idea with that iced latte and scone. I’ll be right back. Do you need anything while I’m up there?”
I shake my head and shrug. “I’m good.”
While Kelsey is gone to the counter, all I can think is those two words are the biggest lie I’ve ever told. I’m not anywhere close to good.
In fact, I think my life may just be what I’ve always feared. I think it’s just like all the other mothers’ lives.
And I have no idea how to change that.