Chapter xi
xi
I MEASURE YEARS DIFFERENTLY NOW. I MEASURE them in school breaks, in custody handoffs, in family dinners. The weekend after Valentine’s Day, the weekend of my trip to Rome, I brought the kids back to Darren’s with all the things they needed from my place for their trip to Key West.
“Does everyone have sunglasses, hats, bathing suits?” I asked as we stood with their backpacks on our front stoop, mentally thinking about what I would need to pack once they were safely with Darren and Courtney.
They all nodded.
“Stuffies? Devices? Chargers?”
“Floppy Bunny!” Sammy yelled, and then raced back inside the house.
“Phone charger?” I asked Violet again. I’m always extra worried that she’ll forget a charger and I won’t be able to reach her.
“Two,” she said. “I promise I’ll keep my phone charged.”
“She always does,” Liam added.
I smiled. “I know,” I said. “I’ll stop momming now.”
Sammy came back and we headed down the street, the kids carrying their backpacks.
We stopped at the H?agen-Dazs on Montague, following our every-other-week routine of getting ice cream along the way—and buying two chocolate chip cookies for Darren and Courtney’s twin girls. The walk was always slightly melancholy, and years ago, when Violet suggested ice cream on the way, it became a tradition, something exciting to look forward to. Of course, Darren’s girls saw the ice cream and wanted a treat, too, so the cookies became part of the routine.
When we got to Darren’s brownstone, Courtney was waiting outside on the stoop with Ivy and Sage.
When the girls were born, I wondered if my three would be jealous. I even asked Violet, who was about ten at the time, if she wished she lived in one place and didn’t have to move back and forth every weekend. She shrugged. Then shook her head. “Maybe sometimes,” she said. “But also sometimes it’s cool to have two families.” I’m still not sure whether that was how she truly felt, or whether she was trying to please me. She’s such an empathetic kid and is really good at reading emotions, at saying what she knows people want to hear. Sometimes to her detriment.
“Violet!” Ivy said, racing down the steps for a hug.
“Liam!” Sage trilled, running behind her.
Then “Sammyyyyy!” they both shouted, nearly bowling him over with a double hug.
I’m not sure how this tradition started, but it’s the same every week. After Ivy and Sage double-hugged Sam, they swapped, Sage giving Violet a hug, and Ivy wrapping her arms around Liam.
I walked over to say hi to the girls, and gave them each a cookie, and then all five kids walked up the stairs in an amoeba of arms and legs and sweets, heading into the house.
“Good week?” Courtney asked me. “Anything we should know about?”
“Nothing too exciting to report,” I told her. “The kids had a good Valentine’s Day. I made sure they have all their important items for the Key West trip. But if they forgot anything they want to take with them, just text me and I can bring it by before you head to the airport tomorrow morning. They have suitcases and summer clothes here, right?”
“They do,” Courtney said. “And thank you in advance. There’s always something, isn’t there?”
I smiled. “Always. And the kids already know, but I’m taking a quick trip to Italy this week. I’ll have my cell phone if you need me.”
Courtney raised an eyebrow at me. “Sounds fun,” she said.
“I hope so,” I answered.
Before I first met Courtney nearly seven years ago, Darren had told me about her in a way that reminded me of when his friends called me a paper doll. “She’s a special education lawyer,” he said. “Grew up in the suburbs of Philly. Went to Bryn Mawr undergrad. NYU law school. A couple years younger than you. Never married.”
“Mm-hmm,” I said. “And you’re serious about her? Serious enough that you want her to meet our kids?”
We were standing outside my old apartment—the kids had run inside to check on their toys after being away from them for a week. He’d said he needed to talk to me about something important, so I’d stayed in the hallway. We hadn’t quite fallen into a rhythm yet, but we were getting there. Our divorce had been finalized a few months before, and one of the things we’d agreed on was that if either of us wanted to introduce someone to the kids, the other parent would meet them first.
Darren looked down at his feet and then up at me. “I am,” he said. “She’s sweet and smart and funny and loves kids. She wants more, and I do too. It’s been moving quickly.”
The look on his face, the words he said—I felt them physically. I knew I’d given him up, I knew he’d loved me first and a part of him loved me still—but all of that was intellectual. Emotionally, even if he was ready for someone new, I wasn’t, and it felt wrong somehow to have him moving forward when I knew I couldn’t. But it wasn’t about me. So I nodded.
A WEEK LATER, COURTNEY AND I GOT COFFEE AT Gregorys and walked around Cadman Plaza Park together. Before I met her, I wondered if we would look similar, if Darren had a type, but other than being about the same height, there weren’t many outward similarities. She had auburn hair in a pixie cut that brought attention to her bright blue eyes. The day we met she had on a pair of tight jeans and a gray V-neck T-shirt with a pair of ballet flats and small silver hoops in her ears. Her arms were toned in a way that made me wonder if she played tennis, and she had a big, open smile that reminded me a tiny bit of yours. She really was lovely—friendly and easygoing and warm. I could see why Darren liked her. And I could tell right away that she would be great with our kids. She knew their names, their ages, had memorized their likes and dislikes. She cared.
“My parents divorced when I was eight,” she told me on that walk. “And I had wonderful stepparents. I really lucked out. My stepmom is a special education teacher and was the reason I went into special education law. I want to be a positive force in your kids’ lives, the way she was in mine.”
I nodded. “I believe you,” I said.
“And I know you’ll always be their mom,” she continued. “I’m not vying for the spot. From experience, I know there’s space for both of us in their lives.”
I know it might sound ridiculous, but I started to cry then. It was such a relief to know that this woman who understood the situation so intimately, who thought about it so sensitively, would be the one whom Darren brought into their lives—but also I felt guilty that my choices had put my kids in this complicated place. That they would have to learn to navigate it like Courtney did. That they would have to find that space in their heart for everyone.
In that moment, while tears dripped from my eyes, we stopped walking in the middle of the park and Courtney put her arms around me. “It’ll be okay,” she said. “I promise you they’ll be okay.”
And although we never became good friends—I didn’t really expect us to—we’re a solid team. Me, Darren, and Courtney, all working together, all giving each other the benefit of the doubt, all trying to make sure that this is as easy on Violet, Liam, and Sammy as it can be.
I still feel guilty. But I also feel grateful that this is how the story of Darren’s and my divorce ended, with him married to a woman who loves my kids and who understands their experiences in ways I may not. I’m grateful for her. And grateful to the universe that Darren found her.