It's Not About You (33 page)

I hugged my sister and her family goodbye. April had her soufflé pan in her hands but didn't let that stop her from squeezing the tar out of me. "Honesty is always the best route to take. And for what it's worth…I think Michael's a good man," was all she said before they piled into their van and truck and headed for Brad's family Thanksgiving.
 

Kevin helped clean his own plate and hustled Michael and Melissa into his car. I promised Michael I'd call him later. Kyle retired to his own rooms downstairs to see what damage the group of teenagers had done.
 

When the house was quiet and I took a few breaths, I made two hot chocolates and carried them carefully to Tanae's door. I knocked with my foot, which was my old signal I had my hands full.
 

She answered the door and my heart leapt into my throat. Her face was swollen from crying but her eyes lit up when she saw the hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles. "I've got a fire going in the chimney on the deck. Blankets. It's pretty cozy out there."
 

Tanae took her chocolate and followed me to the back deck. She'd changed into an old teeshirt and pajama bottoms, her old uniform for sad days.
 

We settled into the lawn chairs Kyle had swapped out for the straight backed ones and she watched the fire in the small clay chimney.
 

"That's new." She pointed to the flames.
 

"Yeah. Kyle's idea. It makes it pretty nice out here."
 

"The back yard looks good. How did you clean it up?"
 

"I hired help. Cost about $400 but it was
sooo
worth it." I sipped my chocolate and put a hand on my stomach. "There's a lot of food in the kitchen. Help yourself."
 

"I will."
 

I relaxed back and did what I always did when it came to Tanael.
 

I waited on her. And I would wait an eternity in silence until she was ready.
 

Then, "We fought."
 

"About what happened?"

"About everything. About how he's alway treated you, and me. You know…he didn't get what Michael said. What Mr. Kevin said. None of it."
 

I wasn't surprised. Burt would never find wrong in himself. He would always be the victim of a cruel world that didn't understand him and he would always paint himself in that light. "Where did you go?"

She snorted. "S & S Cafeteria. I didn't eat much. I think the food is gross."
 

"You just don't like cafeterias."
 

"Not really."
 

I waited.
 

"He yelled in the restaurant, mom. I mean he let his voice go loud. And all he talked about was how bad you were. How you were corrupting me, living with Kyle and screwing that kid. We're sitting down for Thanksgiving and all he freak'n does is complains. And he never once asked how I was." Her voice cracked and I put my hand on her arm. The chocolate in the other. "He never asked how I liked school, or what I was doing. And when I tried to tell him, he just ran over me. Just…talked on top of me as if I didn't exist."
 

I hated this for her. But I knew the day would come when she saw her father as I did. As someone who wasn't capable of truly caring for other people. I just wanted her fairy tale with her dad to last a lot longer. The bubble always burst.
 

"Tanae—"

"Look," she put her cup down on the table between us. "I'm not sure I like this guy. I mean…yeah he was right and a part of me was happy he hit daddy. But there's another part of me that's mad that he did. And that's what's confusing me. Dad should never have done what he did today. There was no reason for it. He just hated being left out of anything that involved me."
 

I nodded. I already knew this.
 

"I'm not going to cause any problems with you and Michael. I might not like it, but I have to agree with Aunt April. That was the first time I'd ever seen anyone stand up for you. I remember thinking when I was growing up that daddy should do that. That he should defend you sometimes when you were sad or someone was mean to you. But he never did. Michael did it without hesitation. I just…" she made a face. "How old is he?"
 

"He's thirty-three."
 

Her eyes widened. "And you're like fifty?"
 

I made a stern face at her. "I'm forty-five. Geez…you think I'm that old? I lost weight and cut my hair."
 

"Oh no…no you look great, mom. Better than ever. And I think that's what's really eating at dad. You're moving on and he hates it."
 

"He's not?"

She arched a brow at me. "Do you see dad ever moving on? I mean…twenty years from now he's going to be complaining about the same things with different people and he's not going to understand why nobody wants to spend time with him."
 

I couldn't help but smile at my little girl…because she wasn't a little girl anymore. She was becoming a woman and starting to see things for what they were, and not what we want them to be.
 

"So is Michael coming back?"
 

"If I call him. But only if I call him."
 

She pursed her lips. "You mind if I invite a boy?"

I sat back. "Phil?"

"Yeah."
 

"You're not mad because I wouldn't pick him up that night?"

"Oh, Kyle picked him up. Did he not tell you?"
 

Laughter popped out of my mouth before I could stop it and she looked indignant. "No….He didn't. You think he'd want to come back here after this afternoon's events?"

"Yeah. He's been texting me."
 

"So…he still thinking of MIT?"
 

"Eh," she said as she shrugged. "He's decided on a local college for engineering. He's going by the name Fish now."
 

Fish? I decided not to ask why he was called Fish. Better not to know. "So we can call our prospective dates for a night of movies, popcorn and left overs?"
 

"Can we make pizza? I'm not really into turkey."
 

I laughed and pushed her to go take a shower. She gave me a kiss and a hug and took her chocolate with her inside. I sat in the cold, warmed by the fire.
 

It had been a weird and emotional holiday. But what holiday wasn't filled with family angst and drama? Through my marriage there had been fights because I invited too many guests, or too few, or I didn't cook the bird right and only Burt could cook well enough to—

No.
 

I closed my eyes and slammed the door shut on that nonsense. What good did it really do to dwell in the past and rehash those old arguments? It was better to remember them when they surfaced, because they would always surface. And when they did, I would learn from them and move on.
 

My Choose One had been freedom. That meant freedom from many things. I'd earned my freedom from marriage, and Michael had given me my freedom to be myself again, and now I was going to choose freedom from painful words.
 

Painful memories.
 

The painful past.
 

I was living my choice now, and though I was sure I hadn't heard the last from Burt, and there were no guarantees from Michael, it was nice where it was. I had a home, good friends, a great job and a lover I could be myself around.
 

A lover who believed in me well enough to stand up for me and punch my ex dead in the face.
 

I laughed aloud as I pulled the phone from my pocket.
 

Thumbing my contacts, I pulled up Michael's profile. I stared at his beautiful picture on my phone, the one I'd taken while he slept, before I pressed the button to call. I settled down into the blanket and took in a deep, calming breath.

'Cause you know…it was all about me.

For now.
 

The Author

Olivia Reid has worked as a painter, as a graphic artist, on a tobacco harvester, as a waitress and as a barista. At present she lives in an undisclosed location in North Georgia while she puts her daughter through college and often has dinner with her gay best friend.
 

This work and everything in it is the sole property of Olivia P. Reid. Any copying or reprinting will be prosecuted to the furthest extent of the law.