Chapter Three Madelyn
I have my own yard. My own yard, and my own house—thanks to the money my parents gave me for the down payment. I wipe away a twinge of guilt and shove away the nagging thoughts that still assault me.
If Eli and I had stayed together, we could have bought this place. We would have saved so much if I hadn’t had to take him to court for child support. If, if, if.
Nope. It’s a beautiful June day in Harmony Glen, and I have a beautiful yard to walk through, with a little fence around it so I can let Zack play out here while I work on my laptop nearby.
So I can take tons of Mommy Breaks, as he calls them, to join in the playtime.
Only now, it won’t be confined to the tiny living room of our apartment, and I won’t have to constantly tell him “just a little longer, Mommy has to get back” when we’re at the park.
“I think I made the right decision,” I announce to the world at large and my cup of crappy instant coffee.
My phone buzzes in the pocket of my dilapidated robe, the one that went through maternity, post-partum, and almost three years of single parenting. The stains on this thing are legendary.
Eli: My mother is in tears, and it’s your fault.
Oh my God. I don’t hear from him in months, he doesn’t turn up to say goodbye to Zack before we leave, and now this?
Madelyn: We’re fine, thank you for checking. Yes, I survived the long drive with a partially potty-trained toddler by myself. Yes, Zack did settle right into his new room, and yes, he seems excited and happy about the new house.
Eli: Don’t turn this around on me. You moved four hours away from my mother, and she’s been sobbing in my ear for an hour about missing her only grandson.
Madelyn: That grandson of hers is the son that you don’t want.
I hesitate before I hit send. I would die if Zack saw that message, but I’m suddenly, fiercely angry. How dare Eli blame me for his mother’s sadness? He didn’t even want a baby—well, not truly. He didn’t want to be involved at all. If he’d wanted to be an active parent, I wouldn’t have moved.
Eli: My lawyer says I can sue your ass for taking him away from me.
Madelyn: You want to explain that to a judge? I think the fact that you’ve seen Zack three times in almost three years and that you’ve been late on 50% of your child support payments isn’t going to do you any favors.
Eli: Bitch
I should block him. End the exchange right now, but maybe it’s the stress of the move, the lack of sleep, and the severe under-caffeination of my blood that makes me keep typing.
Madelyn: You mean away from your mother? You do that. You call me names whenever I give you facts. Facts like you specifically put it in our divorce settlement that you didn’t want any shared custody, visitation rights, and thought you shouldn’t have to pay any child support at all. Ever.
Eli: Men shouldn’t have to pay for child support if they don’t want a baby and the woman gets herself pregnant.
I’m arguing with an idiot. An ignorant, prepubescent boy in a thirty-three-year-old’s body.
I flop onto the steps of the small back porch, the enormity of realizing that I was stupid enough to marry and sleep with this man hitting me afresh—like it does every single time we talk these days. Thankfully, talking is rare.
Madelyn: Funny how you told me you wanted a baby after all, we had sex, and then, boom, I magically got pregnant. All by myself. It was a whole miracle. Funny that it wasn’t on the news.
I sprinkle in rolling eye emojis, a vomit emoji, and a handful of magic wands.
I don’t know whether to feel sad or relieved that Zack doesn’t have his dad in the picture when Eli acts like this—which is whenever he doesn’t get his way.
Nana, AKA Nana Linda, Eli’s mother, sure talks about him a lot, and she shows Zack lots of pictures of his dad when he was growing up.
The only way Zack even knows to ask about his father is because of his grandmother.
I stopped mentioning Eli a long time ago, when he never showed up. When he never even called.
Eli: Don’t be an ass. You know what I mean. You wanted a baby. You knew I’d change my mind! You stopped taking your pill, so this is your fault.
Madelyn: I didn’t know. Right along with my inability to miraculously conceive unassisted is my lack of psychic powers.
I guess I really hoped you meant it when you said you wanted us to try to start a family.
I guess I thought you’d be serious when it was about bringing a human life into the world.
Eli: You didn’t have to keep it. I told you it would ruin our lives, and he did. We would still be together if you hadn’t had him. You’d still be sexy, too, instead of some flabby single mom who had to leave town to find someone willing to date your fat ass.
A gray wash goes over my vision, and I have to put the phone down.
Breathe.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Zack or Eli? That’s the choice he wanted me to make.
Eli’s always been selfish. When we were dating, I thought he was just a spoiled mama’s boy, an only child, a much pampered son. He could be funny and charming, he was handsome, muscular, and in my shared group of mountain biking pals. The pros balanced the cons—I thought. I thought a lot of things.
I thought that would change. People grow up. People realize the world doesn’t exist for their pleasure.
Parenting involves splitting time, splitting attention.
I remember the exact day Eli told me he wanted a baby, after two years of telling me he wasn’t ready, didn’t want to think about kids yet, wasn’t sure if he’d ever be ready.
He watched his college roommate at his “Daddy Shower” and got excited by the thought of two people adoring him, of being able to claim the titles of “husband and father” like trophies to put on some invisible shelf.
Eli dreamed of his perfect wife and perfect child being accessories in some perfect life—and then reality hit him months later, months after he told me he was ready to start a family.
He would have to take care of someone else. He wouldn’t be the only one his wife would fuss over.
I remember the day he changed his mind, too. It was right after my first bout of morning sickness turned the bathroom into a war zone, and I asked him to make dinner.
It wasn’t that he couldn’t cook or that he never helped around the house. It was when he realized it wouldn’t be an occasional thing. It wouldn’t even be a nine-month thing. It would be a forever thing—and I finally saw what a fucking coward he was.
“Mama? Mama! It’s like a park!” Zack suddenly pushes his little face into the screen door and looks at our simple backyard with wide blue eyes.
My heart lifts. My God, I made the better choice. That asshole or the brilliant little boy who loves with his entire being? Who offers me the last bite of his ice cream cone, even if it’s his favorite flavor? Who is thorough, curious, and unselfish?
The world is light again; it’s better when it’s just Zack and me.
“We can get a swingset if we save up enough,” I tell him. “There are yard sales we can look at. We might find a sand table. A kiddie pool. One of those little slides like Nana has?”
Zack squeals and launches himself into the grass, running in his pajamas, stopping to do those happy hops that turn my heart into a puddle of mush.
Madelyn: Tell your mom she can visit any time. There’s a nice hotel in town. She can take Zack to the beach and the park. I’ll be happy to see Linda.
Madelyn: But you? You stay the hell away from my son.
Stay away from me. You’re not a good father, and you turned out to be a shitty husband.
I feel bad for Linda because she raised such a crappy man, which is probably why she’s sobbing.
She’s lost her chance to try for a decent human being with Zack.
Have the day you deserve, and you are officially blocked.
If there’s some emergency, have your mother call.
“Mama, play!”
“In a minute, baby,” I say, then tap on my screen, blocking Eli.
Good. That’s probably the last I’ll hear from him. Maybe this will be the wake-up call he needs to realize how lucky he is to have a son to love—if he wanted to.
“Is it a beach day?”
“Well, after I do some work, little dude. But right now, it’s tag time. I’m gonna catch you!” I say, hands outstretched.
Zack squeals and races through our yard, small joys making a huge impact on my sweet little guy.
I’m not going to let Eli’s idiocy and his cruel words bother me anymore. It’s over. Done with. Not worth thinking about.
Okay. I lied. I’m thinking about it.
One part in particular, as I drive to the lake in my “Mom swimsuit,” a very modest tankini.
Purple stretchy swim tank top. My once-flat stomach puffs up into one smooth curve and meets a little hanging poof in my swim shorts.
If Eli were here, he’d be quick to point out that I never got my pre-baby body back.
As I look at my flip-flop-clad feet, I can’t help but notice how my thick thighs kiss, and the seat is telling me that my black stretchy swim shorts are losing the battle to cover all the junk in my trunk.
“Some men like curves,” I mumble.
“What men?” Zack asks.
Gosh darn baby parrot with the hearing of a hawk. “Nothing, sweetie.”
“We don’t know any men.”
I wince. Zack sees me, my parents, and Eli’s mom. A few friends of mine who have kids, when our schedules mesh. The husbands and fathers are a rarity. Part of me feels guilty that Zack just lost his father figure—thanks to me.
No, thanks to Eli being himself. Come on, Madelyn. No pity parties.
“We know Grandpa, silly. And you’ll make new friends here next fall when you start at the preschool. It’s called Little Dragons. Isn’t that a cool name?”
Zack thinks. “Are there dragons there?”
“I... Actually, I don’t know. Could be. You never know in Harmony Glen.”
“You could meet new friends, too.” Zack kicks his feet excitedly as we pull into the parking area. “Lake! Tomorrow, can we take the bike?”
“Maybe. Mommy has to work tomorrow for most of the day. But, you’ll have our own ‘little park’ to play in,” I remind him. “On Monday, we’ll check out the library. New books.”
“New books!” Zack wiggles out of the seat as soon as I unbuckle him. “Can we run?”
“Not today. We have to get all of our beach things. Mommy’s going to have to start keeping a beach bag packed and ready to go in the car or the bike trailer.
” Going to the Jersey Shore used to be an annual thing.
Living near this lake with its perfect sandy-pebbly beach is going to be new—and wonderful.
I did the right thing, I tell myself for the hundredth time.
I did the right thing getting Zack into a nice little town like this one—and away from Linda’s constant guilt-tripping, and Eli’s hit-or-miss involvement with his mother as a mouthpiece.
With a grunt, I put Zack on my hip, sling the canvas collapsible camping chair over my shoulder, and grab the tote bag that has shovels, towels, and snacks.
“I’ve got this,” I mutter, hitting the button on my car remote that shuts the trunk.
I do. I’ve got this. I can do this. Look at me, being organized. Doing it all. Doing it alone, like I have for years. I’m just doing it in a new place, but it’s a place that’s going to be better for my son. That’s what real moms do. They put their kids first.
I’m a total badass.
“Mommy, you cut your leg!” Zack says loudly, his voice sharp with sudden worry.
I look down and see the dark red line on my thigh. Both thighs. “That’s just my shorts digging into my leg, sweetie. It’s all good.”
Eli’s voice is sharp in my head.
My God! Mads—you have stretch marks everywhere. All over your legs. Will they go away? They’re on your ass! They’re everywhere!
He sounded like I had the plague. I don’t even want to remember what he said when he saw my chest when I was breastfeeding. The mooing noises made me so angry, and it hurt too bad to scream or cry.
God, I can’t believe I stayed with him, even before I had Zack.
Something inside me withers, even though I just spent the last few minutes building myself up.
Well, if you hadn’t—Zack wouldn’t be here. There’s a reason for everything.
“You okay? Want me to kiss it?” Zack asks, blowing a kiss in the direction of my tankini bottoms.
Bless his little heart.
“All better, baby.”
I’m a badass with fat thighs. And a fat butt. I’m still a badass.