The Breakup Mix (27 page)

I laughed in spite of myself. “You act like I have any pull in that equation.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? You don’t have input to this?”

I leveled my eyes. “If I had my way, she’d divorced your ass in a heartbeat and move on with her life after this bullshit. Before, I would have given you a fighting chance, but right now, after all this? It’s like you wrapped her hands in barbed wire and dared her to pull away, and when she did, you cut her hands off for being defiant.”

He hung his head and sighed. “I know I overreacted, but so did she.”

“Oh? You think so? You think it was out of line for a mother to take her children out for breakfast when one had her plate smeared against her mother’s stomach and the other two ruined theirs with their own tears? Is that an overreaction to you, Brandon? Because it sounds to me like you were being a raging prick and she had enough of your bullshit.”

“Again, I was thrown! She came in happy as a lark to be a fucking belly-dancing aerobics instructor. She had no idea about wages or what her hours were going to be. We don’t just make decisions like that without talking it through.”

“No,
she
doesn’t get to make decisions like that;
you
do. Listen, you wanna make nice with her? Send the kids with me. It will show a good faith effort that you’re not a complete douchebag and will calm her down. Then if you want to talk to her, you guys can take it from there.”

He spoke but didn’t look at me. “Do you think she’ll even consider coming home?”

I stood up. “I don’t know, Brandon. I really have no idea. Can I take the kids with me?”

He nodded. “If you think it will help, yes.”

I shrugged. “It’s hard to say. And you can’t call or text her because you turned off her phone.” I stared hard at him while those words sunk in. “Tell me again how you didn’t intend for this to be a permanent punishment, Brandon.”

He glared up at me. “I think we’re done here, Chance. Have the kids back by seven. He stood and walked down the hallway to tell the kids to get ready then went into his bedroom.

I wandered into the kitchen and stared at Michelle’s usually immaculately cleaned counters covered with remnants of last night’s attempt at supper and dried, uneaten oatmeal from breakfast in bowls on the counter. If she stepped foot in this house as it was right now, she’d never leave again, because autopilot would kick in. She would “see” how needed she was and find her “place” again.

If he told her the line he’d told me just now, she’d eat it with a fork and digest it as truth. The man is a salesman for crying out loud.

The kids hurried to the door and grabbed their coats. I smiled at their sense of urgency and couldn’t wait to see the look on Michelle’s face when we showed up at Alissa’s. We were nearly out the door when Brandon ran down the hall calling for Del Ray.

“Hey, wait a second. Here. In case you need it.” He handed her phone to her. “Be back by seven, got it?”

Del Ray nodded. “Bye, Dad.”

I scowled at Brandon and mumbled, “Like I’m going not going to bring them back.”

“I’m not worried about
you
, Chance.”

I looked hard into his eyes and tried to get a bead on him. If I was this confused, I couldn’t imagine how Michelle felt.

It was a quiet ride to Alissa’s house. The anticipation in the car was palpable, and it seemed inappropriate to do anything other than drive as fast as I could to reunite the kids with their mother.

As much as I didn’t want to, I found myself thinking of Tony and comparing my own unreasonable desire to reach out to him. I tried to blow it off—that I was just feeding off the emotions in the car, or that the Christmas season of love was influencing my need for romance. And, this was no time to rekindle a love affair when I would be moving half a country away in a week. Yes, it’s best to let this thing die on the vine and pretend his ballad of affection had never been sung. I had other things to think about and ample distractions to help me pass the time—that which would heal all wounds.

I pulled into Alissa’s driveway. “You guys ready to see your mama?”

My car emptied before I finished my question. Martin was first to the door followed by Gibson and Del Ray. Alissa answered the door and the look of shock on her face was worth the surprise. Chairs scraped across the kitchen floor as Michelle squealed and raced to the door to gather her little birdies into the nest. Giggles, sniffles, and chatter filled Alissa’s living room as the kids took turns hugging Michelle and telling her how much they missed her. Gibson and Martin gave her a play-by-play action of everything she’d missed: Gibson made it to the final level of his last video game. Martin proudly announced that he’d helped Del Ray make breakfast and wasn’t burned once, and Del Ray looked completely satisfied to just be in the same room with her mother.

Michelle’s eyes met mine—all shimmery and filled with gratitude. She shook her head. “How on earth did you pull this off?”

I shrugged. “I just went by the house to get you some clothes, and voilá!”

She looked sideways at me—she wasn’t buying it but didn’t bust me in front of the kids. I glanced toward Dani and acknowledged her head-nod telling me to join her in the kitchen. She handed me a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. “Well done, you.” She grinned and took a sip of her own coffee. “I come back with a phone; you come back with her kids. Never have been able to one-up you,” she chuckled.

I grinned. “It takes a village,” I said with a wink.

Alissa entered the kitchen and pretended to march in a parade. “Hail the conquering hero. Or heroine in this case. Tell me everything.”

I gave a recap of the morning’s events including my conversation with Brandon. The mood in the room changed as we contemplated what he said and exchanged questioning looks.

Dani asked, “What do you think?”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. He looked sincere, but I wonder if that conversation would have been different if the media van hadn’t been there twenty minutes earlier.”

Alissa said, “So it worked, then.”

I said, “Yeah, but not like I thought. I figured he’d puff up like a bullfrog and it’d be over. I didn’t expect the . . . I don’t know . . . maybe he
was
trying to get her attention. Maybe it worked, who knows?”

Dani asked, “What do you think she’ll do?”

I looked at Alissa and deflected the answer to her. She sighed. “Honestly, I think she’ll go back. She’s already worried about how she’s going to afford living on her own, so if he says all those things to her that he said to you, game over.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, Lis. She’s pretty pissed off. She might surprise us.”

Dani asked, “If she doesn’t, where does that leave us?”

I bit my lip and mumbled, “I’ve been thinking about that.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t have to go to Florida. I’ll stay on at the station and manipulate Stuart into giving me back the co-anchor job and be here for Michelle in case things take a turn for the worse.” Alissa started to speak, but I held up my hand. “Listen, you know as well as I do the clock is ticking for you.” I pointed at her belly. “You’re not going to be able to hide that much longer, sister. And if, God forbid, you run into Mark . . .” I threw up my hands.

Alissa paled with the thought and looked at Dani. “Neither of us feel right about leaving her alone up here. We don’t know where Katie’s head is, and if Brandon flakes out, she’ll have no one to turn to.”

I scowled. “That’s not one-hundred percent true; her family is still around. But I know what you mean. As I said, I’m totally okay with staying here. If things calm down, I can always come later.”

Alissa chewed on her cheek and nodded. “All right. That’s the plan, then. Dani and I will go, and you come later. Chance, we can’t do this without you.”

I smiled. “Sure you can. You just don’t want to.”

They both laughed and Dani said, “So true, so true.”

I couldn’t decide if I was disappointed or relieved that the decision had been made. While I would love to spend five months vacationing in Florida with my best friends and forgetting about normal life, I felt my place was here. And just as soon as the decision was made, I thought of Tony.

Chapter Thirty-One

Without You

Alissa

I felt my heart crack a little when Chance made her decision to stay behind. Out of the group, Chance is the one who truly gets me. She knows why I do what I do and there is just something calming about her. Now that Michelle ever so eloquently outted my concerns in front of Dani, I had some serious reassurance to give—a reassurance I didn’t believe myself.

The truth is I don’t know if I can follow through with this. Every time I feel that little twerp flip or wiggle in my belly, I feel this explosion of adoration in my heart and can’t wait for the day when I can meet the person I’m already interpersonally connected to in every way. No surprise, I’ve compiled a list of reasons why I’m moving to Florida and giving away my baby—just saying those words makes me cringe. However, when I review my list, I know I’m doing the right thing.

I admit—watching Michelle devoured in grief while separated from her children made me dread “the day” even more.

We spent the rest of the morning and afternoon playing games with the kids and showing Michelle how to use her new smart phone. Poor girl is going to have a bit of a challenge ahead of her, but I know she’ll get it eventually. Gibson had already fallen in love with Michelle’s new iPad and took reluctant turns sharing with Martin. We took some practice runs with Skype and tried like hell not to think about the distance that was soon to separate all of us.

I sighed and said to Michelle’s kids, “Guys, we’re going to go into the family room to talk, but I need you to stay in here, okay? Here’s the remote; knock yourselves out.” I waved Dani, Chance, and Michelle into the family room and took my seat on the couch.

Chance and Dani chose chairs this time, and Michelle plopped down on the other end of the couch. Chance cleared her throat; Dani smoothed her hair, and Michelle played with the fringe on one of the throw pillows. I took a deep breath and sighed heavily. I looked at Michelle. “Well, the decision has been made. Dani and I are leaving as planned, but Chance is going to stick around for a while. Just in case.”

Michelle’s eyes shot up to Chance’s and she shook her head. “You don’t have to do that, Chance. I’ll be fine.”

Chance shrugged. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. They have to go to pull all this off, but I’m just the extra in this stage play. And, the show must go on.”

“While that’s not entirely true, she does have options that Alissa and I don’t have. It pains me to leave you in this situation, but it will make me feel much better about going if Chance stays behind,” Dani said.

I added, “And, if things calm down, and once you’re set up, she can always fly down later.”

Michelle bit her lip and smoothed the fringe across her leg. I watched her face and knew what she was going to say. I saw the resolution wash over her face hours ago as her children draped over her hanging on every word, every smile, every facial expression, as though she was mentally recording each moment. Consequences be damned, she would be back in her marital bed tonight if Brandon would have her, and judging by Chance’s conversation with him, Michelle’s future was certain once again.

She cleared her throat and sniffled. “I . . . uh . . . I’ve had a lot of time to think—both sober and drunk,” she chuckled bashfully. “And, none of this makes sense. Brandon, I mean. He doesn’t want me cut off from my children—he’d never call the cops on me. I want to go home. I want to go talk to him and really listen this time. I feel like I needed this reality check—this absolute knowledge what the other side would feel like, and guys, I’m not going to be happy if I leave him.” She looked at each of us in search of approval.

Dani leaned forward. “Michelle, we only want you to be happy. We all know you’ve been . . . out of sorts for a while now.” I loved watching Dani trying to choose her words carefully and half-expected Chance to cut her off. Which she did.

“Sister, you’ve been bat-shit crazy some days.”

Michelle laughed and shook her head. “Way to take it easy on me, Chance.”

Chance shrugged and winked at Michelle. “Listen, I don’t want you to think you have to look around this room for approval to go back to Brandon. We all know you love that dude, why, it’s a continuous mystery to all of us, but you do. And that’s okay.”

Michelle grinned. “I really do. But more than that, I love those kids.”

Michelle

All of the thoughts running through my head over the last twenty-four hours threatened to spill out of my mouth in no certain order. All eyes were on me, and none of them would have any kind of personal experience to understand where I was coming from.

I thought about how to proceed from this moment forward as a single mom and how scared I was to reach for a life I never wanted. I wasn’t happy in my life at home, but I sure didn’t want this bullshit, either. Every-other-weekend, shuffling kids back and forth, missing special moments while building a life I never wanted to begin with. Entering the work force like a teenager fresh out of high school with no work or real-life experience.

Then I thought about Brandon meeting someone and marrying again. The idea drove a hot knife into the pit of my stomach and nearly made me throw up. Another woman in my house, in my bed—her clothes hanging in my closet, making love to my man, parenting my children. That was the clencher. As mad as I was at Brandon, I still loved him and knew I always would. He was an arrogant, selfish, egotistical prick most of the time. But then again, so was I.

When he told me he’d read my journal, I was humiliated and horrified that my husband read my nasty, awful thoughts about him. I tried to imagine situation reversed and how I would feel. It would make me sick to think Brandon felt that way about me, and now he
knew
. There was no denying, no lying; no covering up . . . he knew what’d been going through my mind. It was as if it was okay to have those thoughts until he read them, then I was instantly flooded with shame and regret for even thinking them, let alone writing them down.

It would be easier to stay in Alissa’s house and let the momentum of the divorce overtake me. I’m certain it’s coming. I don’t know how you come back from something like that. However, I couldn’t become Alissa’s charity case and appointments to my kids. Always clock watching, alternating holidays. The thought made me cringe.

Being here in Alissa’s home on no one’s schedule but my own made me lonesome for my home. I had nothing to do, no purpose. I even found myself longing for that dreaded pile of never-ending laundry just to feel some sense of normalcy. And it’d only been one night! The desire to run off with my friends to Florida was killed the moment Brandon stepped onto the front porch and announced I couldn’t enter our home. In that moment, there was no other place I wanted to be, even if I was cleaning up his blood after murdering him. I thought again about the things I’d written in my journal and wondered if there was any way that man could ever forgive me for what I’d said in the midst of a mid-life mental breakdown, and if so, would he ever be able to forget?

I played out the scene of me coming home with the kids later and wondered if I was setting myself up for another embarrassing experience at the hand of my husband. I envisioned a replay: me walking up to the house, the kids going inside, and me left cold and homeless on the front stoop. If that was my fate, I’d have to find out the hard way. I couldn’t sit here in Alissa’s family room crippled by my own fear.

I looked up at my friends and gave my best smile. “I want to go home.”

Alissa sighed and slapped her hands on her thighs. “Welp, that’s that,” She looked at Chance and nodded.

I said, “Alissa, it’s more than what you’re thinking. I . . . I need to talk to Brandon before I do anything else. He might not let me come home.”

Chance smiled. “He’ll let you come home. Trust me.”

My heart jumped. “Really? Did he say that? What’d he say?”

Chance chuckled. “Just trust me, okay, kiddo?”

I was certain I knew how life would play out from this point forward. Brandon and I would find a comfortable routine again and I’d get pissed with how unappreciated I was around the house. I’d pick fights with him and go back to dreaming of life on the other side of the fence, but this time, I would have last night to remind me of how green the grass is in my own yard, even if there are weeds and the occasional pests.

I fought the need to explain myself to my friends and decided my husband was the only person who needed to hear what I was thinking. I said my “see-you-soons” to my best friends, got the kids in their coats, and had Chance take us back to my car.

The butterflies in my stomach threatened to make their appearance alien-style through my abdomen. I put my hand on my belly to calm them, but my shaking hands betrayed me yet again. I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine, took several deep breaths, and tried to conjure the perfect words to win Brandon from “hello”. One time, when we were still kids in high school, Brandon and I broke up for a very short time. It was a dumb fight, really, but it seemed pivotal to our future. I’m sure it had something to do with Lottie-the-body. Anyway, we agreed (via notes passed between friends) to meet after school by the bleachers to talk. He got there first and looked both relieved and smug that I’d shown up. We stared at each other waiting for someone to speak first but not wanting to be that person. Finally, he said, “I’m still mad at you.” I whispered, “I’m still mad at you, too.” He grabbed me and hugged me as if he never wanted to let go . . . or he was trying to kill me. I wasn’t sure. I told him I couldn’t breathe and his embrace relaxed to a natural effort. We never talked about it again, and a few years later, we were married. From that day on, our apologies came in the form of “I’m still mad at you.”

Once again, the kids beat me to the door, and I had a moment of déjà vu when Brandon appeared on the front porch. He was still wearing his pajamas and looked like hell. The kids shuffled past him and once again, I was on the stoop staring at Brandon.

Nearly two decades later, we might as well have been standing outside the high school for the familiarity of it all. Brandon ran his hand through his hair and sighed as he looked at me. My lungs moved, my heart beat, but I wasn’t benefiting from their functions. I took a step toward him and he held up a hand. My chin quivered and stomach rolled. Then, he spoke.

“I’m still mad at you.”

Tears rolled down my face as I mumbled, “I’m still mad at you, too.”

He moved aside, held the door open for me, and I walked back into my life.