Chapter 12 #2
I can tell that’s not what she was initially planning to say, but I decide to go with it.
“That’s exactly what I thought. I figured he was too much of a gentleman to break up with me, but by staying in Somerset, he was sending me a message.
We had a high school relationship that ran its course, and it was time to move on. ”
“Maybe,” Sophie says thoughtfully.
“I almost forgot, I bought cheese and grapes.” I jump up and set to work preparing a plate of snacks. And just in case Sophie doesn’t realize I’m desperate to change the subject, I add, “we’re celebrating tonight, because I got a job.”
“Congratulations!” Sophie exclaims. “Something in tech?”
“Teaching math, actually. At Brookline Academy.”
“How posh,” she teases, as she cuts a big wedge of brie and puts it on a cracker. “Good for you. I didn’t know you were a teacher.”
“Oh, I’m not,” I say quickly. “But someone took an unexpected medical leave, and they were scrambling. Apparently not many women can teach high school math, but the principal seems to think I can.”
“You’ll be great. You were always good at math.”
“I was all right, I guess.”
Sophie rolls her eyes as she bites into the cheese. “This is delicious,” she says enthusiastically. “You should try it.”
“Maybe later,” I say, biting into a grape. “I’m trying to eat healthier.”
Sophie’s brow furrows. “Cheese isn’t really unhealthy.”
“Maybe not,” I admit. “But it won’t help me shift the ten pounds I’ve gained since the divorce.”
Sophie looks surprised. “I was just thinking you look great.”
“Yeah, well, my ex-husband didn’t agree.” I know I sound bitter, but I can’t help myself. “He cheated on me with a twenty-one-year-old.” I shake my head ruefully. “And that was before the most recent ten pounds.”
“Men are pigs,” Sophie says, indignant on my behalf. I realize how much I missed her.
“That they are,” I agree. “Most of them, anyway. Olivia—that’s his girlfriend’s name—was also my daughter’s figure skating instructor. Such a cliché.”
“I think you should eat some cheese,” Sophie says decisively. “Now that you’re divorced, you don’t need to worry about your ex’s opinion. What’s his name again?”
“Troy.”
She nods. “Well, then. Every time you eat something fattening, you can think, ‘Fuck you, Troy.’”
“That’s been my attitude for the past year,” I admit with a laugh. “Everyone in our neighborhood was super health-conscious, Troy included. Everything had to be organic, free-range, sugar-free, the whole bit.”
Sophie wrinkles her nose. “I could deal with organic, but not sugar-free.”
“Yeah, exactly. So after I learned about Olivia, I took up baking, but with, you know, the classic ingredients. Butter, sugar, flour and chocolate. It drove Troy crazy; the house smelled delicious, but he couldn’t eat any of it without looking like a hypocrite.”
“That’s diabolical,” Sophie says with a laugh. “You were still living together? After you knew about Olivia, I mean?”
“Yeah,” I shrug. “I asked for a divorce as soon as I found out, but I stayed in the house for a year because it was best for the kids. Troy was worried that if he moved out, I’d try to keep the house. I made him sleep in the basement, though.”
“I’d have made him pitch a tent in the backyard,” Sophie says disdainfully.
“Oh, it crossed my mind,” I admit. “But it would have been hard to explain to the kids. We’re trying to maintain the fantasy that we still like and respect each other.”
Sophie snorts. “You’re a saint.”
Not a saint, just a mom. “I had to try to get along with him, since I needed his consent to move the kids to Somerset,” I say with a sigh.
“The worst thing I did to him was fill the house with fattening food that he wouldn’t let himself eat.
Except now I have a baking addiction and none of my good clothes fit. ”
In the end, the joke was on me.
Sophie smiles sympathetically. “Just don’t go crazy dieting. Trust me, you don’t need to.”
I look at her skeptically. “My mom keeps telling me I should do Pilates. She’s hoping to set me up with her best friend’s nephew.”
“Yeah, but that’s just your mother. You shouldn’t take her seriously.” She sighs. “My mother’s starting to nag me about giving her grandchildren. She doesn’t understand why I can’t find a nice doctor at the hospital to marry and make babies with. It’s not as easy as she thinks.”
“It never is,” I agree. “So you’re not seeing anyone right now?”
She shakes her head. “I’ve tried the dating apps, but the options in Somerset are really pathetic.
Most men our age are already in relationships, and the ones who are single are usually single for a reason.
Either they’re unemployed and living in their parents’ basement, or they’re already divorced.
I don’t want to deal with that kind of baggage. ”
“I get that.”
Sophie’s eyes widen when she realizes what she’s said. “I mean—obviously your situation’s different.”
I shrug. “It’s not, really. I definitely have baggage.” And I can’t imagine letting another man see me naked. “But it doesn’t matter, since I’m not looking to date. I need to focus on my kids.” I push out a sigh. “And on re-learning high school math.”
Sophie laughs. “Fair enough.”
“More wine?” I ask, noticing her glass is nearly empty.
She shakes her head. “I drove. I have a shift tomorrow anyway, so I should get going.”
“It was great to see you again, Sophie,” I say as I walk her to the door.
“Yeah, you too. We should do it again soon.” She pauses. “Actually, if you’re looking to get back into exercise, I’ve been going to a running group on Saturday mornings. It’s free; a running store organizes it, but you don’t have to buy anything. If you’re interested, we could go together?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I’m pretty out of shape right now.” For the past year, my only exercise has been chasing after Liam, and I’d probably look like a fool at a running group.
“It’s okay, there’s a beginner group,” Sophie says. “I only started a couple months ago, and I ran with the beginners until recently. We can go at your pace.”
“I don’t want to slow you down,” I say doubtfully.
“I really don’t mind,” she says with a smile. “If anything, it will be a good excuse for an easier run.”
“If you’re sure, then, yeah, I’d like that. I’ve got the kids this weekend, but they’ll be in Toronto the next. Maybe we could do it next Saturday?” My mother would probably babysit if I asked, but this way I’ll have a week to get in shape.
“Sounds great. I’ll text you,” Sophie promises.
After she leaves, I google home workout videos and find an overwhelming variety of options on YouTube. Since Pilates was my mother’s suggested form of exercise, I naturally don’t want to do that, and High Intensity Interval Training sounds too intense.
So I decide to try a barre workout, which the smiling instructor promises will be ‘cardio and fat burning.’ She also promises there’s no equipment needed, so I have no excuse. I should seize the day—or in this case, the evening—and start now.
So I throw on my ratty yoga pants, start the video, and make it exactly nine minutes and thirty-eight seconds before I collapse from exhaustion.