Chapter Eight
The kids tumbled through the door of Mark's apartment with a flurry of backpacks, sneakers, and chatter.
Luke clung to his father's leg before darting to the window to peer out.
Michael plopped onto the couch; arms crossed before pulling out his hand-held game.
Chrissy wandered toward the small kitchen, searching for snacks.
Following her and knowing she would not find anything, Mark recognized his first mistake: Tessa would have had snacks ready.
He had rented a small two-bedroom apartment about a mile from their home.
It was furnished sparsely, and he had only brought essentials from the house--clothing, toiletries and work files.
His first trip to the grocery store had yielded mostly frozen meals, milk, cereal, and coffee.
Though he had helped Tessa in the kitchen before, he had never paid much attention to ingredients and recipes, his role consisting of tasks like draining pasta or cutting vegetables.
Left on his own, he realized he didn't know the first thing about keeping a pantry stocked, much less about planning meals.
Though he had promised to spend weekends with the kids, realistically he understood that he wasn't ready to manage all the meals, the bedtimes, homework projects, and the million other details that Tessa seemed to handle so efficiently.
So, he had suggested to Tessa, in one of their brief interactions, that the kids come over Friday after school for a "test run," and he'd bring them back at dinner time.
In the back of his mind, he hoped the drop-off might open the door for the talk that had been suspended now for over a week.
Mark tried, but the afternoon felt off-kilter — the kids restless, the activities forced.
They walked to the park, got ice cream, played a board game.
Revelations followed him all afternoon, Tessa would've remembered to bring water bottles.
Tessa would've packed sunscreen. Tessa would've known how to keep them from bickering.
Sitting on a bench at the park, a memory surfaced of a family outing to the lake just last year.
Tessa had packed a picnic basket filled with sandwiches, apple slices, brownies and juice for the kids as well as a spread of fettucine and caprese salad, pie and a thermos of coffee for the two of them.
The kids had built sand castles on the beach, tossed Frisbees and splashed in the shallows, while Mark and Tessa lounged on the blanket, trading lazy conversation and soaking in the breeze and the sound of their laughter.
The recollection struck him with a bittersweet ache, sharp and sudden.
It wasn't the lake or the food or even the sunshine that had made the day perfect. It was Tessa.
Everyone seemed relieved when the afternoon finally wound down.
About an hour earlier, Chrissy had begun the refrain—"Is it time to go home yet?
" Luke clung to Mark's side, but every game ended in tears or a frustrated toss of Legos across the room.
Michael was uncharacteristically quiet; his gaze fixed on the floor.
Eventually he looked up just long enough to ask, "Are you gonna come to my soccer game tomorrow? "
"You bet I will, Michael. Can't wait to see you score all those goals," Mark said, his tone a little too bright.
Michael only shrugged and gave a small nod.
Mark sighed and looked at his watch.
When he dropped the kids off that evening, the warm smell of dinner drifted through the open door. Without asking, he followed them inside.
"I can help," he said.
Tessa gave a small shrug. "Suit yourself."
He set to filling glasses while she moved around him, their rhythm in the kitchen still intact despite the wall between them.
Michael and Chrissy laid out plates—five instead of four.
When it came time to sit down, Mark made no move to leave, counting on Tessa not wanting to cause a scene in front of the kids.
It was underhanded, he knew, but desperation was creeping in. He needed a chance to talk to her.
Dinner wasn't as awkward as it might have been. The kids carried most of the chatter, slipping back into the family routine. They seemed to draw comfort from both parents at the table, as if having them there together gave permission to relax, to pretend that nothing had changed.
Afterward, by unspoken agreement, he and Tessa moved through the motions—baths, stories, bedtime routines. It was almost like old times. Almost. Except for the cavernous space that yawned between them once the house fell quiet.
Tessa sat down on the couch, reaching for the remote control, her face averted from Mark as he walked by.
Instead of heading for the door, Mark took a seat at the other end of the couch, "Tessa... can we talk? Please?"
She folded her arms across her chest, eyes staring straight ahead, "About what?"
So, she was really going to make him say it.
Mark's throat felt dry, a prickle of exasperation in his voice.
"About... us. About what I said the other day.
" He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"Like I told you, I'm... I'm confused, Tessa.
I didn't mean to hurt you. I just... I don't know how we got here. "
Tessa turned abruptly to face him, "You don't know how we got here?
" Her eyes flashed, disbelief hardening her face.
"You, Mark—you got us here." Her voice sharpened as she went on.
"I've replayed your words over and over.
The only thing that makes sense is that after ten years of marriage—after almost a lifetime of knowing me—you got bored.
I'm not attractive enough, not interesting enough, not young enough—"
"No, that's not what I meant!"
"Isn't it?" She continued, her hands trembling, but her voice steady.
"I bore you three children. I've kept the home going so you could pursue your dreams. I've been holding it all together while you worked late nights and climbed your ladder.
While you grew more worldly, more interesting and accomplished, I became a dull white noise in the background.
In fact, I supported you so well you outgrew me—and now someone else gets the new version of you. "
Mark flinched. "That's not fair," he muttered, not wanting to acknowledge that the words stung, not only because they echoed things Kate had said but because he knew he'd given her that impression.
"It's exactly fair," she said, her voice cracking now.
"I thought we were building a life together.
You weren't perfect, I wasn't perfect, but I never doubted my love for you or yours for me.
Not once. But like waking up from a dream, I found out none of it was real.
Everything we've built — the good, the bad, the years together —it was all nothing to you. "
He shook his head, "No, it was real, I promise you! It did mean something-- a lot--to me." He paused, gathering his thoughts, " I just... I stopped feeling like the man I used to be." He closed his eyes.
The silence hung between them, until Tessa said quietly, "And Kate made you feel like you were young again.... while I just remind you that time is passing you by."
Even as he realized that Tessa had captured the truth in that one sentence, he struggled to put his tangled thoughts into words, "Tessa, you have to understand.
.. I never had the chance to be young and free.
We went from high school sweethearts to marriage and babies before I ever.
.. before I even figured out who I was. I've always had responsibilities—bills, work, the kids. "
"And where was I during all this time? Do you think I had some wild, carefree decade before I married you?
" She shook her head. "We were each other's firsts, Mark.
Every milestone I hit, I hit with you. And not once did I think I was missing out on something better.
Not once did I feel entitled to see what else was out there. "
He rubbed the back of his neck, restless. "It's not about entitlement Tessa."
She continued as if he hadn't spoken, "Because I've had chances.
More than you probably realize. Men have flirted, come on to me—at school meetings, waiting for the kids at games, even at the grocery store.
And every single time I left no doubt that I was happily married to the love of my life.
I walked away thinking how lucky I was. How lucky we were. And that's exactly how I felt. Lucky."
A flash of irrational jealousy and possessiveness swept through Mark.
What man would dare to try to take Tessa from him?
Or course they would try, she was a leggy, sun-kissed blonde whose natural beauty turned heads.
He remembered how many boys in high school had wanted to date her, how shocked and proud he'd felt when she'd chosen him.
And now, the irony of it twisted in his gut.
Her eyes filled with tears, but her voice stayed sharp. "Now I find out that while I thought I was lucky to have you and our life together, you believed that your best years were taken from you... and I'm the one who stole them from you."
Mark winced. "That's not true."
"Isn't it?" She leaned closer, close enough for him to see the rawness in her eyes.
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Finally, Tessa took a deep breath. "I can't make you love me, Mark. I won't sit here and beg you to stay while you debate if you want me or not. The moment you chose to pursue whatever you have with her, you decided. It's out of your hands now."
Mark realized that this conversation was veering out of his control.
"Wait, what do you mean it's out of my hands?
I didn't plan for any of this to happen.
I thought if I was honest, we could discuss and maybe fix things, like adults.
" He knew that was a cheap shot, but he was feeling increasingly out of his depth.
Her eyes flashed. "Honest? Coming home late because of "meetings" isn't honesty.
Texting your girlfriend in our house—our sanctuary, where our children sleep—isn't honesty.
Making love to me while you have been kissing another woman, wanting her—it's betrayal, it's lies, and. ." she choked out, "it destroyed me."
Before he could respond, his phone buzzed on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a name that made Tessa's stomach drop.
Kate.
She froze. "You have got to be kidding me."
Mark's hand hovered over the phone.
"Don't you dare," she said, her voice low and sharp.
But the phone buzzed again, and without thinking, he picked it up. "Hey," he said quietly, turning slightly away from her. "I'm in the middle of something—I'll see you later."
Tessa's mouth went dry. "Unbelievable. You're talking to her, making plans to see her.
Right now, while you're pretending you care about me, that you never meant to hurt me, that you want to fix things," She stopped, unconsciously putting her hand on her belly, "you show me that you have already decided who you want, and it's not your wife. "
Mark hung up quickly, setting the phone down like it had burned him. "Tessa, I—"
"No." She stood abruptly. "Get out."
"Tessa—"
"Get. Out. Go to Kate, she's waiting for you." Her voice shook, but the steel in it left no room for argument.
Mark grabbed his jacket, his chest tightening. He glanced at her one last time, but she'd already turned away, her arms wrapped around herself like she was holding in the pieces.