9. Carson #2
I know there are other things he wants to say.
I wish I could be less biased in this situation, but I love them both, so it’s hard.
It’s not either of their fault that their divorce was never officially completed and they have to file again.
I’m sure that’s brought up a lot of old heartache and feelings for them.
He doesn’t look totally fine, but I’m not going to press him on it.
“Want to get lunch, or do you need to head back to work?”
Ben laughs. “I can see why your renovation’s moving so slow.”
“Shut up, dude.” I laugh, following him outside. Orange, red, and yellow leaves cover the trees that line Main Street like the branches are on fire. I’m glad I’m wearing such a thick hoodie, the NY Giants logo spread across the front, and catch Ben eyeing it too. “At least I don’t bandwagon.”
“It’s not my fault we sweep you every year.” Ben grins, flashing perfectly straight teeth. He’s a Patriots fan, which is one of the only things we’ve ever disagreed on.
“Tell that to our 32-point lead last fall.”
“Dude, that was one game.” He rolls his eyes. “And it was preseason.”
I shove him on the sidewalk, and he laughs. When my phone rings, I pull it out and my mood immediately shifts.
“What happened?” Ben asks.
“It’s Jen.”
“You can take it.”
I don’t want to, but I should. I nod up at the Maple Bar and Grill. “I’ll meet you inside?”
“Sure.”
By the time I get to a place to answer, my phone has stopped ringing. I call her back and hold the phone to my ear.
Jen answers after a few rings. “Hello?”
“Hey.”
She’s silent for a moment. “Is Penny there?”
For real? Forget the fact that it’s noon. I already told her this today. “She’s at school, Jen.”
“Right. What time is she out?”
“Three.”
“This would be easier if Penny had her own phone.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You know how I feel about that. She is literally always with an adult with a phone she’s more than welcome to use.”
“Not right now.”
“She couldn’t talk to you right now anyway. She’s in school.”
“I could text her.” Jen sighs heavily into the speaker. “It feels like you’re trying to keep us away from each other.”
My hand balls into a tight fist, and I close my eyes, willing my voice to remain calm and unperturbed.
She’s always been skilled at pushing my buttons, and I can feel this being no different.
But now she has no control. I’m the sole parent with any rights and everything has to go through me.
Jen can push whatever buttons she wants, because she’ll get off the phone and not think twice about us for the rest of the day, and I’ll still be around to protect my baby.
The urge to defend myself falls flat when I think about the woman on the other end of the phone.
She’s probably seated at her kitchen island in her shiny updated Nashville place, twirling the end of her long brown hair around her finger and sipping an overpriced, over-sugared macchiato that she’s going to run off for the next hour.
A small ache forms in my chest because there’s still a part of me that will always want to be next to her, lacing up my shoes and running in the horrible Tennessee humidity, sweating like crazy and earning every drop of ice water that follows.
Despite every reason we needed to go our separate ways, I will still always care for this woman on some level.
“Jen,” I say, lowering my voice. “You know the last thing I want is to stand in the way of your relationship with our daughter.”
She gives a humorless laugh. “Which is why you moved her to the other side of the country.”
A bit of an exaggeration, but again, not worth the argument. “We can call you when Penny gets home from school, and if you’d like to text my phone, I’ll show her the messages so she can respond later.”
Jen’s quiet, but I’m used to these long silent pauses.
We met freshman year at Vermont University in Burlington, dated all four years of college, and got married as soon as we graduated.
Penny arrived immediately after we moved to Tennessee for dental school, Jen didn’t want to have more kids, and that was that.
Penny was a lot to handle for two young parents making their way through the long hours of becoming a dentist. I was fine with that decision, but having Maven in my life, I sometimes wish Penny had been given a sibling too.
I loved Jen deeply and faithfully, but now she thinks we jumped into monogamy and homemaking too young.
I thought it was an early mid-life crisis, but she never grew out of it.
People change, but instead of growing together, we drifted in opposite directions—Jen’s kayak was slowly diverging while I continuously capsized trying to keep us together.
We’re allowed to have different opinions about our choices, of course, but hers meant she didn’t want to be married anymore, and I’ve been dealing with the fallout ever since.
“Bye, Jen.”
She doesn’t say anything before hanging up on me. My phone vibrates in my ear to indicate an ended call, and I suppress the groan that wants to rumble from my chest.
Once, we couldn’t spend five minutes apart without missing each other. Once, Jen promised to be at my side through sickness and health for the rest of our lives.
But people aren’t perfect and commitments are difficult to keep, right? Marriage is nice in theory, but it’s not a realistic concept in the Price family. We’re three for three on being unable to keep a marriage going.
I see Ben through the window and wave before heading inside.
I couldn’t get Jen to stay. I wasn’t enough for my dad to stay. It’s not marriage that’s forever—it’s friendship.