Chapter 6 #2
“I’m failing Anthony, no matter what I choose. I’ve held out as long as I can over this custody battle and Europe thing with Ryan, and he’s not giving up,” I said. “But letting Anthony go? I may as well rip one of my arms off and ship it across the ocean.”
The side of my forehead sank against the tabletop with a soft thud. Her hand stroked the back of my hair as I mumbled between my squished cheeks.
“I've lost so many people. I can’t lose Anthony too.”
“I know, honey. You’ll make the right decision,” Mom said.
Later that night, a sliver of light accompanied me as I slipped into Anthony’s darkened bedroom. His light brown hair was a tangle of sleep against his pillow, sticking up in the back.
Always sticking up in the back.
I smiled, feeling like my heart could burst. Either from the amount of pure, unconditional love for him, or about to combust at the thought of him being away for so long.
My footsteps were silent as I tried to sneak out, but his bed frame and my shin had other plans. I attempted to swallow the whisper-curse that yelped out of me, but it came out anyway.
“Mom?” he asked groggily.
I clenched my jaw, my voice strained. “Yes sweetie. It’s me.” I rubbed the aching bruise forming while balancing on one foot.
“Why are you waking me up?” Anthony groaned. He blinked a few times before catching his bearings and sitting up.
Maybe if I elevated it, the throbbing would subside? I hobbled over to the bed, the mattress dipping as I sat beside him.
Anthony’s eyes turned shifty, the way they always did when he wanted to talk about something but didn’t know how. After last year when he bombarded me about the birds and the bees, I had learned really quickly to read the signs.
“What’s on your mind, sweetie?” I asked.
He stared fixedly down at the scrubby teddy bear he kept hidden from his buddies.
“Don’t be mad, but I heard you and Grandma talking earlier. Dad wants to take me to Europe?”
My pained heart froze. “You heard that?”
“Yeah. Going there with Dad sounded kinda cool.” He shrugged like it meant nothing, but his eager eyes said otherwise.
I rubbed his pajama-clothed back, feeling heavy and hollow at the same time.
“It does sound cool, doesn’t it?”
“If I promise to write you letters or something, could you let me go? I can call you too.”
His small voice was waiting, pleading, needing.
Could I let him go?
I allowed a moment of silence in the darkened room. My eyes roved over the messy bed before catching on the ever-present black duffel bag leaning against his dresser.
Clothes from his last visit to Ryan’s spilled out the top, as well as a glinting silver frame of a chubby baby being kissed by his mother.
Anthony deserved the world, even if I wouldn’t be by his side while he explored it. A world with time and attention from both parents.
“I’ll talk to your dad,” I whispered, “and I promise to think about it.”
Istrolled the grid-like streets of the flea market with my phone pressed to my ear and my heart in my throat. Spring tulips waved in the breeze, as if wishing for me to have a better day.
“Pick up,” I grumbled.
Ryan’s voicemail was getting old. I hung up for the third time, too timid to leave a message. When would I finally pluck up enough courage to stop shrinking around him?
A friendly vendor nodded at me as I passed his table full of wares. I mustered a wave, chewing my lip as I wandered aimlessly. Mom was likely still back in that canvas tent, engrossed with the blue china plate she’d been eyeing. I’d find her later.
Ryan’s contact photo blazed to life as my phone began to ring. My stomach lurched at those blue eyes. Even his lifeless photo had me cowering.
Pathetic.
I swallowed and said, “Hello?”
“Amantha. I’m at work. What do you need?”
“Uh, sorry. I assumed since it’s Saturday, you’d have some time to talk,” I muttered.
“Well, you assumed wrong. Let’s make this quick.” Ryan’s sharp exhale sliced through my speaker. “What did you need to talk about?”
I bit back the retort he deserved, choosing a conciliatory path instead.
“The Europe trip.”
Those three words softened Ryan’s tone. “What about it?”
My poor lip was chewed raw. “I’m considering it. But we need to work some things out first.”
Ryan’s huff told me how much he was invested in this trip. How much he wanted it.
“I already told you, Amantha. I’ll finalize the divorce, pay the settlement, and agree to your lawyer’s terms. Besides, Anthony already knows about the trip, so enjoy being the bad guy if you say no.”
The bad guy? How dare he.
“I don’t care about being the bad guy, as long as I’m doing what’s best for Anthony.” I paused to fill my lungs, then blew the breath out. “And I happen to think it’s best if he goes to Europe.”
That finally shut Ryan up. After a few moments, he asked, “You do?”
I sighed. “I do. But my lawyer and I have some strict stipulations that you’ll need to sign. I’ve already emailed them to you.”
Ryan made an absentminded hum as the faint click of a mouse told me he was reading them.
“Sheesh, Amantha. Do you really think I’m dumb enough to breach our custody agreement? I’m not going to kidnap my own kid. Do you really think so low of me?”
Did he really want me to answer that?
Ryan continued. “Despite your paranoia, the rest of these look decent enough. I’ll run them by my lawyer and sign them right now.”
Relief filled my veins, but anxiety sped my pulse.
Was I making the right choice?
Could Ryan even handle being a solo parent for an entire summer?
Would Anthony be okay?
All I could summon were two words. “Sounds good.”
Ryan hung up the call as I backtracked to the antiques vendor’s booth. Sure enough, Mom was still there.
“Ta daaa!” Mom rushed over, clutching a brown wrapped package to her chest. Her ecstatic summer blue eyes were as bright as the vintage plate she unwrapped.
I forced a smile and stepped closer as spring wind gusted through the tent’s opening. The rare treasure—which it must have been based on the octave of her voice—was stunning.
Ivory banks edged blue rivers, disrupted by a few jumping, fat-bellied fish. Delicate golden flourishes swirled the rim of the plate.
“It’s beautiful, Mom.”
“It’s part of the collection I saw on Antique Treasures last week!” she said.
So that’s where I get it.
The passion. The fire.
In addition to the Victorian era, Mom had always been obsessed with china plates.
She had even given me one as a wedding present when I married Ryan.
It still hung, shining beside my hummingbird portrait above my dining room table.
That plate inspired some complex emotions now, but I still couldn’t bear to take it down.
“Mom, that looks like a great find. I’m happy for you.”
She sighed, smiling down at the plate like a newborn baby she’d birthed herself.
“So much history. So much promise.” Her contented gaze swung to mine before she asked, “Oh, did you get a hold of Ryan?”
I nodded, his name a reminder enough for my stomach to drop. “Yes. He said he’d sign them.”
As if he’d heard me across the city, my phone pinged with an email. I scrolled the signed documents, noting each swirling signature beside my stipulations.
An unfeeling text followed.
RYAN: Consider the divorce final.
Tears stung my eyes, whether from relief or sadness, I didn’t know. I silently let them drip, too stunned to wipe them away.
It was over.
Our marriage was over.
All facts I already knew, but the finality of it all felt crushing. Mom’s soft arm around my waist brought me back to my senses. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
“Are you okay, honey?”
I nodded, despite my tears still brimming.
“It’s over,” I whispered. “He signed it.”
“Oh, Amantha. I’m so sorry.” Her familiar scent of lavender fabric softener enveloped me in a hug. “But you did it. You made it through. It’s a painful finish line, but a finish line all the same.”
She pulled back, her faint wrinkles lifting into a smile. “Give yourself time to process it all. But in the meantime, I want you to have this.” Mom lifted the beautiful plate. “A gift to represent your new beginning.”
“Oh, Mom, I couldn’t.” I shook my head even as I reached for it.
“I insist.” She winked. “Consider it a divorce gift.”
A choked laugh bubbled out. “To match my wedding gift?”
She responded with a cheeky grin. “A perfect set.”
I laughed.
“Life is about to get real good. I just know it,” she said.
I looked down at the plate. The smooth porcelain was cool against my fingers. A small piece of reason felt skeptical that this plate could hold so much promise. Like the idea of a new beginning was too good to be true.
But I wanted to believe her.
To absorb even a fraction of that optimism. To soak it in like the warm sunshine outside. Smiling, I clutched the plate close to my chest and willed my future to comply.
My phone chimed with a text.
RYAN: But if Anthony’s home life changes in the slightest, I will file for custody again. And win.
The smile froze on my face, my palms growing sweaty. What did that mean? A change in Anthony’s home life? Did he mean in the literal sense, like selling the house? I’d never take Anthony’s home away from him.
The knot in my stomach eased.
Or did he mean financial, like if I screwed up at work and couldn’t provide for Anthony’s life anymore?
The knot tightened.