Chapter Eight
Wendy
Just what I need on my first day of work.
My first day at Mabel’s. There’s a mix of anxious and excited butterflies fluttering through my stomach—more excited, I note as I brush my teeth and study my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are still red-rimmed and swollen, but there's a lightness to my posture, a smile curving my lips.
As I step into the shower, I wonder what people will think of me—Mrs. Durant working at the grocery store. Will they judge me? Think less of me working in customer service? Will it get worse when they learn Atlas and I are separating?
The most important question is—do I care?
No.
I have a job. I’ll be earning money, contributing, doing something that matters.
This town needs Mabel's grocery store and its workers, just as it needs the doctors at Mercy General, the waitstaff at the local diner, the Burger King employees, the janitors and the teachers in the high school.
Every person has their purpose, and when a link in the system breaks—like when a husband checks out on his family—it truly shows how important that link is.
I am starting my first day of work at Mabel's and I feel excited in a way I haven't in a while. Damn what anyone else thinks. I'm taking steps forward to support my children and myself.
I think that's something to be proud of.
...
Liam is my early riser, usually hitting the ground running at 5:45. He’ll pull himself from his bed, straighten his bedding, and jump in the shower first in his and Noah's shared bathroom.
Noah is a bit slower to get up. I usually have to come back into his bedroom twice to make sure he's awake and moving.
Sometimes, I have to physically drag him to the bathroom and into the shower. Liam will then make sure Noah's not wearing his clothes inside out, that his socks match, and help him brush his teeth.
Twenty-five minutes later, they're thundering down the stairs, tripping over each other to see who can make it to the kitchen first. Liam always lets Noah win, and Noah knows, but loves it anyway.
I’ll have their breakfast ready and lunches packed in their lunchboxes.
This morning, I completely forgot I needed to make lunch for myself, too, so I had to throw something together quickly.
The thought that I'll need to make myself lunch, just like I do for the boys, makes me feel a little giddy. It's something small, but it's mine.
As for Atlas' lunch, well... I forgot.
Just like he forgot to show up for therapy.
Maybe he'll wonder, just like I did—did I really forget, or did I purposefully not do it? He can figure it out while he's figuring out lunch for himself.
It felt pretty good not to expend energy on him today. After how he treated me this morning after his nightmare, I'm in a petty mood. He's an adult. He can figure out his meals.
I'm taking care of the ones I need to—my sons and myself.
"Boys, grab your bags, we gotta go!" I call out, pressing start on the dishwasher after I've loaded the breakfast plates in there.
I grab the lunchbags from the fridge, shoving my lunch in my purse, handing Liam his lunch, and then clipping Noah's to his yellow backpack. Liam slings his basketball bag over one shoulder and his bookbag over the other.
The boys chatter through the morning, voices bouncing off the walls, unconcerned with the growing volume of their voices. There goes that pettiness rising inside of me again because I don't really care if they wake up Atlas upstairs.
He was still in bed when I walked out of the bathroom and started getting dressed. His eyes were closed, but I wasn't sure if he was asleep. The embarrassment this morning kept me from looking too closely.
His face was once such a comfort, and now it just hurts to look at.
"Liam, do you have your basketball shorts?"
"Yeah, Mama," Liam replies, motioning to his bag.
"Noah, you've got your paints? It's acrylic day, right?"
"Ms. Piper said we're learning tints and shades. We're gonna paint an autumn lanscrape!"
"Landscape, buddy," Liam corrects, lips twitching like he's trying not to laugh.
"That's what I said! Lanscrape," Noah insists stubbornly.
"Noah," I laugh, catching his attention. I enunciate clearly. "Land-scape."
"Oh," he says, nodding seriously, like he just solved a great mystery. "Landscape."
"Perfect," I laugh, pressing a kiss to his little ginger head and herding them toward the door to the garage.
Liam slings an arm around Noah's shoulders and ruffles his hair as they head out the door, "I'm sure your landscape is gonna look sick."
The words make me smile as I grab my own bags, my water bottle, and my keys. I'm heading to the door when the floor creaks behind me.
Atlas.
I turn and find him standing in the kitchen doorway, his eyes fixed on me and full of something I can’t identify. I’ve never seen that look before. Dark circles shadow his eyes from the nightmares, and the man who once felt as solid as a mountain suddenly looks so small.
Unflinching, I hold his gaze, both of us locked in this game of chicken and daring the other to speak first.
I've been speaking for the last year; it's his turn to speak. I want him to crack himself open and just let me fucking in. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so we can figure it out together.
When Atlas parts his lips, hope swells in my chest. I go perfectly still like he’s a skittish horse who will bolt if I breathe wrong.
He opens and closes his mouth a few times, but no sound comes out. Then, his mouth snaps shut, his jaw locking, and his eyes hardening. I can quite literally see him slamming the door shut before my very eyes.
I feel any reserves I kept running deep inside me slam shut, too.
With one final look, I turn and walk out the door to the garage, slamming it a little harder than I mean to. I shove the frustration down before I get into my car, not wanting my boys to feel it.
It’s pointless. Liam watches me from the front seat as I slide into the driver’s side and start the car.
I meet his eyes and smile, smoothing his dark hair back from his forehead. He gives me a small smile, though his eyes remain tight with concern.
"Mama, why did you pack lunch too?" Noah asks from the backseat as I pull out of the driveway. There's movement at the curtains by the front door, and I know it's Atlas watching us.
"Because," I start, smiling at him in the rearview mirror. "Your Mama got a job."
Both boys go still with surprise, though Liam's facial expression is tinged with suspicion now.
Noah tilts his head, "Where?"
"I'll be working at Mabel's."
"Really?" Liam asks, and I nod eagerly, a genuine smile on my face.
I really want to stress to them how truly happy this makes me, and show them that change isn't always scary; sometimes it's exciting.
And this is exciting.
From Noah's smiling face, I can see that he's okay with it. Liam keeps his eyes on me, just like yesterday, just like this morning, too perceptive for his age.
"I'll still be here to pick you guys up. Nothing changes there,” I assure them, and myself if we’re being honest. “If I have to work on the weekends, Grandmom and Grandpop will watch you. Sound good?"
"Yeah!" Noah yells, excited at the prospect of more time with his grandparents. I smile at my little ball of energy, but Liam is quiet next to me, seeming to think over my words.
After a couple of long moments, he finally speaks.
"Does he know?"
That’s the question I was hoping he wouldn't ask. Thankfully, he keeps his voice low so his brother won't hear. I keep my eyes on the road and shake my head. Liam is smart and knows not to push further right now, not with Noah in the car.
"You know, I'll even be working with Tyler Hargrove," I tell Liam, whose eyes light up. I smile at his excitement, him looking like I just told him I'll be working with Allen Iverson. "He works there on the weekends, I think."
"Really?"
I nod.
Liam grins. "Cool."
“Will you get free chocolate chip muffins?” Noah asks the really important question, making Liam and me laugh. He sighs, eyes glazing over. “I love those.”
“I know you do, baby.” I smile. “Maybe not free—we don’t want to put Mabel out of business—but I’ll bring you one when I pick you up. Deal?”
“Deal!”
I pull into the middle school drop-off line, once again reminded that next year I’ll be in the high school line. Liam will be attending the same high school his father and I did, being taught by many of the same teachers.
When we get to the front, Liam holds his hand back for his brother to high-five as a goodbye, before he grabs his bags. The middle school basketball team practices for an hour and a half right after school.
"I'll be here at 3:30," I tell Liam, as I do every day. I think I just like Liam knowing that I will be here, that I promise to pick him up.
As always, he nods his head and grabs both of his bags from the floor by his feet. He places his hand on the door handle, but pauses, turning back to me.
"Mama," Liam says, his voice low and unsure. He frowns like he's trying to find his words. Finally, he smiles and says. "I'm... happy for you."
My heart warms instantly at his words. I’d worried about what they would think of me working, and whether they’d be embarrassed to have their mom at the grocery store. Then I worried about having to explain that no job is shameful, that work itself is something to be proud of.
Parenting always seems like a series of conversations you hope to get right: correcting behaviors and reassuring anxieties before they can fester into something ugly.
Even then, you can do everything right and still mess it up.
But your oldest son looks at you with quiet pride and tells you that he's happy for you, and your youngest draws you as a superhero, and suddenly everything feels worth it.
"Thank you, baby," I whisper, leaning over to press a kiss to his head. He grimaces, glancing around to make sure no one saw, and I laugh. "Have a good day at school."