Chapter 29
Candace
Nat: Happy Thanksgiving Babe :)
Candace: Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you’re enjoying time with your family. I miss you.
Nat: Id rather be there kissing those perfect lips I’m so obsessed with
“Who are you giggling at?” Court asks, bringing the takeout containers over to the couch.
“Nat, she wished us a Happy Thanksgiving.”
This Thanksgiving is my first as a truly single mom.
My girls are gone, and I’m eating Chinese out of styrofoam.
Court had to work an extra shift and insisted we boycott cooking and order in instead.
It’s the first year I’ve ever done anything out of my schedule.
I’ve always hosted Thanksgiving. I’d start prepping days before and have the full meal by lunchtime on Thursday.
Never have I ever sat cross-legged on my couch eating takeout instead of turkey.
“So things are going well with the teenage rock star, then?” she asks, mixing noodles into her fried rice.
“Stop it, she’s an English teacher prepping the young minds of today to appreciate Shakespeare and Hemingway." I defend, knowing I don’t need to, but feeling like it’s necessary these days.
“Didn’t she teach the girls how to make fart noises with their armpits?” Her eyebrows raise as she gives me the ultimate side eye.
Rice flies out of my mouth when I bend over, hysterically laughing.
“Madi and Kate are in love with her and treat her like a big sister. It’s been a weird balance because I want everyone to get along.
But shouldn’t I want her to be in more of an authoritative role?
” I question, hoping to get a little sisterly advice.
Court shrugs. “I guess that depends on where you see this going. If she's eventually going to become a stepmom, you want the girls to depend on her and expect discipline, while also being someone they can turn to. She’s so young, though, I’d make sure she understood the role she’d be playing and not just rock 101 teacher, as she likes to put it. ”
I nod in agreement. It’s a topic I’ve thought about a lot lately.
On the one hand, I’m so thankful my girls have blossomed and warmed up to the idea of me dating a woman, one who’s much younger than me.
It melts me into a puddle when I see how well they get along and trust each other.
On the other hand, she’s not here to be a playmate.
She’s here to build a relationship with me and a parental one with them.
I need to know if there's an emergency, they can rely on her, and she’d come through, and not just be the one who gets the concert tickets.
Getting up from the couch, I head to the kitchen, grabbing the sparkling cider.
The one piece of this holiday I wasn’t willing to give up, and fill two glasses for us.
“Cheers to us,” I say, handing Court her glass.
“Thank you for being here with me this year and always. Thank you for having my back now and forever.”
“Cheers,” she repeats back, smiling, and we take a big sip.
“No more mama talk, just tell me about this woman-on-woman relationship. Holy shit, how's the sex? I bet it’s hot as hell with someone who can actually find your clit.”
My sex life has never been something I've openly discussed, and I'm certainly not about to start now. Before I can even answer, I’m blushing.
“Based on my very limited experiences, I think it's going well. Mom and Dad’s constant drop-ins are throwing a wrench in our progress, and upsetting everyone, Nat most of all.”
“They drop in unannounced? Candace, come on. Don’t answer the door. Or better yet, answer it and tell them to fuck off. They have their own lives to worry about. You’re thirty-nine, this is embarrassing. Stop letting them have a hold over you.”
“Everyone has a hold on me, though, don’t you get it? Greg still owns this house. Yes, it’s paid off, but it’s in his name. Dad’s name is literally on the last installment of my trust fund, that I’m due to get at forty. Without that money, we wouldn’t have money.”
“Okay, time to quit playing the victim. You act like you’d be out on the street without the rest of the trust fund.
I know how much you have, and you’d be able to live comfortably for years before you’d have to get, maybe, a part-time job.
You’re so obsessed with this rich bitch lifestyle that you can’t see a world outside of it.
Look at Nat, she’s living on a substitute teacher salary, and she’s fine,” she says matter-of-factly.
“I don’t want Nat’s life, I want this life. It took years to curate something out of nothing and turn it into a home. Just because I’m single doesn’t mean I should have to give it all up. I haven’t worked since before the girls, and I have no interest in going back,” I say defensively.
“Do you even hear yourself? What are you living for? The next sale at Nordstrom’s so you can buy more paisley curtains?
This is insanity. Do you know what else is out there and how much more you could have?
Not everything’s about having millions of dollars.
You could live the best life and be completely free from your stupid ex-husband and psychotic parents. ”
“Are you sure you’re not Nat, because you sound an awful lot like her?” I say unimpressed.
“Good, maybe she’s not an idiot after all, just because she’s young. You know we’re right, you’re just being too stupid and selfish to look past that golden dollar sign.”
“You’re not a mother, Court. I have children to think about here.” Picking around at my almost empty plate, I fail to imagine my life without this house.
“Your girls will be fine. You’re not even close to being upper middle class, let alone poor.
You wouldn’t know poverty if it shit in your morning granola.
The stuff in your life will not make you happy, but I think Nat has the power to bring you a lot of joy if you quit with the damsel in distress act,” she says softly, reaching for my hand and pulling me back into the conversation.
For the rest of dinner, we sit in silence while I stew over everything she said.
She somehow makes so much more sense and has this way of putting me in my place, even though I'm the oldest. She’s not wrong, there’s plenty of money.
The thought of losing my house, our neighborhood, or my life is debilitating, given how much I've already lost. It’s the last thing I have complete control over, and I’m holding onto it with a death grip, refusing to let it all go.
Nat: Do we have plans for Christmas yet pretty girl?
Candace: I’d love to go away just the two of us, maybe for the night. I have something in mind, a little gift for the both of us
Nat: Done! I can't wait to have you all to myself
Court’s watching me like a mother bird when I look up from my phone. “I already saw the text, and yes, I can watch the girls. Where are you thinking of taking the little rockstar?”
“I thought it’d be fun to rent out a penthouse downtown so we could see the Christmas lights. Is that too much?” My teeth clench together, rethinking the whole thing. “I guess we could always drive to the cabin, but I don’t know how Nat would do being stranded in a cabin all weekend.”
“I’d be more concerned about bringing Nat to a penthouse than to a cabin if I were you. They’re gonna make her trade her boots for stilettos.”
“Stop!” I tease, throwing a noodle at her face.
Nat’s outfits couldn’t be more opposite than what I’m used to, but I love her individuality and the way she doesn’t care at all what people think of her.
It’s so refreshing to see her walk through life unbothered by the judgments around them.
Hopefully, some of it rubs off on me soon.
I swear, the longer I spend here alone, the lonelier I feel.
Looking around, everything looks the same, but nothing feels the same at all.
This home once held a new family, a couple who navigated marriage’s ups and downs together.
Two gorgeous baby girls learned to crawl through our massive living room and tumbled around aimlessly as toddlers.
They filled the school years with science projects and book reports.
Before I knew it, they were in middle school, and my house carried the voices of pop stars and celebrities.
The pictures and couches remain, but the family I once knew is gone.
My girls are older and rarely chase each other unless someone stole the other's new top. I never took inventory of my day-to-day until Nat started pointing out how ‘so-called boring’ my life is. I guess she's right. There’s no boo-boos to kiss better, no spilled milk to clean up… unless Nat’s been cooking.
Rarely is there an incident that requires my immediate attention anymore.
While I busied myself with charity functions, fundraisers, and shopping, I never really stopped to examine my new life as a divorcee.
Candace: How was Thanksgiving? Was it nice to be back home?
Nat: It was alright. Good to be home yes….but I had to answer a lot of questions that I wasn’t in the mood for.
Candace: Sounds like we had a similar night.
Nat: Did Court go easy or did she grill you like a Disney princess villain?
Candace: Not QUITE a Disney villain, but she definitely spoke her mind. She left me in a bit of a sour mood
Nat: I’ll cut a bitch…I swear I will
Candace: No need to cut anybody. Tell me about your night.
Nat: Currently I’m hiding away from the prying eyes and missing you like fucking crazy. When did you turn me into such a needy bitch I can’t even spend a night away from you. I’ll probably have the worst sleep of my life
Candace: Been there. The first night you slept over was the first time in a year I didn’t have to take a pill to sleep. Sleeping hasn’t been the same since.
Nat: Aww she’s a closested pill head, how cute. I love being your medication baby. ;)