Chapter 7
IT’S BEEN ALMOST two months since we had sex and nothing has changed.
I thought maybe the morning after he might be surprised to find me asleep on the couch, but he didn’t question it.
I went on paying the bills, taking care of the kids, and running errands, and he went on working incredibly long hours.
“Dad, do you want to see the new karate moves I learned this week? I could show you!”
He raises his hand to him. “Hold on, Kale. I’m just waking up.”
Kale nods his head and bites his t-shirt collar, gnawing on it with his teeth. It’s a nervous habit he has that causes the fraying of all his shirts. I’m about to tell him to stop when I find myself chewing on my nail. I huff to myself and hold my words. Apparently he got the biting habit from me.
“Dammit, Kale. Stop biting your collar. Your shirts all look like we pulled them out of the trash. I don’t work the hours I do so you can ruin every shirt I buy for you.”
“You didn’t buy it,” he responds innocently as he motions in my direction. “Mom did.”
Mike’s fist slams into the table, causing both Kale and me to jump. “And where do you think she gets the money to buy that shirt?”
I can see the uncertain fear in Kale’s eyes as he glances back and forth between his father and me. “From… her… wallet?”
Mike sighs, and I can’t help the small chuckle that leaves my lips. Mike’s head turns and I feel him glare at me. I focus on Kale. “Hey, hun, why don’t you see if you can show Marlow some of your moves. I bet she’d love karate if she gave it a chance.”
Kale’s shoulders slump. “Okay…” I watch him slowly tread away. I know he’s hoping Mike will stop him, but he doesn’t. I feel an ache in my chest at the disappointment in his eyes.
As soon as Kale is out of earshot, I sit down at the table and grit my teeth at Mike. I know he can see me staring at him as he sips his coffee. I get a whiff of it and it makes my stomach curl. I’m not sure why.
“I don’t want to hear it, Everly,” he says.
“He barely sees you. You leave before he gets up and you come home after he’s in bed. He wants to spend time with you. He misses you and he needs you, Mike.”
“Don’t try to lay a guilt trip on me. I didn’t say I wouldn’t spend time with him. I just asked for a minute to wake up. Is that too much to ask?”
My lips twist to avoid saying something nasty, and I push away from the table. As I stand, I grasp the edge of the table to steady myself.
“What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing… I think I just got up too fast,” I respond.
“Are you not eating again? I swear every time I turn around you and Gwen are trying some new fad diet in an attempt to get back your high school body. We all know it’s long gone.” He laughs. “How is the crab, anyway?”
“Don’t talk about her like that!” I bark. “She’s my best friend and you know it bothers me that you two don’t get along.”
He sets his coffee cup down and turns toward me. “Does she want to get along with me?” he asks. “Does she suddenly want to be my friend?”
I sigh and my eyes fall to the floor. I wish I could lie and say she does, but it’s so far from the truth. I know he wouldn’t believe it even if I somehow managed to lie well for once in my life.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he responds with a chuckle. “She hasn’t liked me since the moment she found out you were pregnant.”
“That’s not true,” I respond sincerely as I dry a pan from breakfast. “She hasn’t liked you since the moment she met you.”
“Ha!” he says with blatant sarcasm. “Well, the feeling’s mutual.”
“Daddy…” Marlow calls as she runs down the stairs. “Kale kicked me in the leg.”
“Kale?” Mike calls out.
Kale stomps down the stairs. “What?”
“Did you kick your sister?”
“It was an accident. I was showing her how to take someone’s leg out.”
Mike turns to me. “Well, it was your idea. You can handle this one. I’m going to take a shower.” Mike stands and moves toward the stairs.
“Dad, will you play soccer with me today?” Marlow asks.
“I already asked him to watch my karate moves,” Kale responds to her angrily. “I asked first. He’s going to play with me.”
“That’s not fair. I was going to ask him earlier, but Mom said I couldn’t wake him.”
“You snooze, you lose, loser,” Kale responds.
“Kale…” I interject.
“Okay, Kale the snail,” she mocks.
“Marlow…” I roar.
“You’re an idiot,” Kale shouts as he pushes her shoulder.
“No, you are!” she says as she pushes back.
“Both of you, stop!” I yell loudly.
“All of you, just shut up! Now I have a headache. I’m going to take a shower and lie back down. I’m sick of all the yelling in this house!”
“But Dad…” Kale starts.
“Enough!” Mike responds. “And you keep your hands off your sister. If I see you push her again, I’m going to push you and see how you like it. You’re older and bigger than her. Boys don’t touch girls in this house.”
“You can say that again,” I respond under my breath. Mike glares at me before he stomps heavily up the stairs.
I shrug when I realize he heard me.
Kale stares at me expectantly. “It’s all her fault.”
“It’s not my fault, it’s yours!” she shouts.
“Shhh…” I whisper with my finger to my lips as I search my mind for some kind of distraction for them. “You know what I was thinking would be fun?”
“What?” Kale asks as he crosses his arms and frowns.
I notice how much he looks like his father in that moment and I do a double-take at him before I remember what I was going to say. “How about we have a bake-off.”
“What’s a bake-off?” Marlow asks.
“A bake-off is where you both come up with cookie recipes and we make them to see whose taste the best.”
“That’s not fair,” Kale states. “We know you can cook better than we can.”
“Oh, I’m not competing. I’m neutral. I’ll help both of you make them without giving away the other’s secrets. Then, when they’re finished, we’ll have a blind taste test and see whose cookies are better.”
“Can dad try them too?” Kale begs.
I sigh inside, hoping he’ll be game. “Of course!” I say with my biggest smile.
“And I can put anything I want in them?” Marlow asks.
“Yes you can.”
“Even pickles?” Kale questions.
I smile. “Umm… I suppose, although I’m not sure that’s a winning choice.”
Kale and Marlow laugh, and after they wash their hands, I announce the beginning of the first annual Haley cookie bake-off.
After an hour of cracking eggs and mixing flour with sugar, the kids finally get the chance to mix in their secret ingredients.
Kale goes for chocolate chips, mini marshmallows, and caramel sauce, while Marlow adds oatmeal, raisins, and white chips.
We make a mess, but the kids have a blast, so I don’t care about the clean-up.
It’s nice to see them compete without fighting for once.
They both sit down in front of the oven and watch each other’s cookies baking.
They try to guess each other’s ingredients, and Kale makes Marlow howl in laughter as he guesses the most disgusting ingredients he can think of.
I grab my phone and snap a picture of them in front of the oven.
It’s a moment I want to cherish forever.
A few minutes later, Mike saunters down the stairs.
The kids leap up excitedly to tell him all about the bake-off.
He listens and smirks as Kale tells him what he thinks Marlow put in her cookies.
They beg him to taste them and thankfully, Mike agrees.
He even sits with them in front of the oven to watch them bake.
Marlow plants herself on his lap, and the kids seem thrilled to have their dad involved.
I try my best to be happy Mike is actually doing something with them, but for some reason his presence puts a damper on my enthusiasm.
I feel bad for it, but after all the time he spends away, I’ve adjusted to my time with the kids to the point where I rarely, if ever, miss him at all.
I know in my heart it’s wrong to feel that way, and I mentally berate myself for being so selfish and ungrateful.
The beep of the timer tells me the cookies are done.
Kale blindfolds his father as Mike takes a bite of Marlow’s, then Kale’s cookies.
“I can’t choose between them. These are the best cookies I’ve ever had,” Mike states honestly.
After everyone has their fill, Mike and the kids curl up on the couch to watch the newest Pixar film while I clean the kitchen.
I long to be a part of it all and find myself feeling excluded and alone.
I want Mike to tell me to just leave the dishes and join them, but he doesn’t, and I suddenly feel a desire for him to want me again.
As much as I think the kids should clean up after themselves, I also know that they miss their father and need this time with him.
So instead of complaining, I wash dishes and listen to their laughter and conversations from afar.
Kale wanders into the kitchen for a glass of milk, and just as I begin to have a small pity party for myself, I feel his arms hug me from behind. I sigh as I hold his hands in place around my waist and remind myself that I am not the one who has anything to prove—except maybe to myself.