Chapter 30
Over the last eleven months, I’ve eaten in almost every causal restaurant in the tri-city area. It’s as if my father thinks a change in décor and menu will make everything okay. Tonight it’s Mexican. And the usual group—my father, his girlfriend, Jamie, and me—sit around the table with the exception of Chloe. I figure if my dad can bring Sara, I can bring Chloe. I need the support or maybe it’s the buffer.
Jamie and my father leaf through a new book—a Waldo one this time. Sara has gotten into the habit of bringing her a book each Tuesday.
Chloe swirls the straw in her glass of Coke and asks Sara, “So you’re a lawyer?”
Sara nods. “I work for an environmental agency.”
“So how did you meet Mr. Middleton?”
I tap Chloe’s leg with my boot. Like I want to know this stuff. They must have met when my parents were still together. Chloe ignores me.
Sara takes a sip of her wine and glances at my father as if asking his permission to share. The idiot just smiles. Sara turns to Chloe and me. “My firm sometimes hires people in his engineering firm for research. I’ve known him for several years through work.”
I choke on ice tea.
Chloe’s eyes round. “You guys have been dating for two years?”
“No.” Sara shakes her head and glances at me. “We didn’t start dating until January.”
When he moved out. Yet, the thought of them working together, giving each other looks, and attraction growing between them for two years has my stomach turning.
Chloe keeps talking with Sara while my father and Jamie look for Waldo. Our food comes. I pick at nachos. My dad asks me about school. I give him basic answers. He doesn’t ask about the band. I never told him I was in one. Sara asks me about my major and future plans. I mumble something about still considering my major. This is usually how these dinners go. Tense and slow. But Chloe’s soon talking Sara’s ear off again, and I’m left alone picking at cheese, meat, and beans. I shove my plate away when Sara describes the house my father and her are buying.
Chloe follows me to the bathroom. At the sink, she says, “I’m not sure what your problem is. Sara seems pretty nice, especially to Jamie. If anything, I’d think you’d find her attitude with Jamie to be the cat’s ass.”
I snatch a paper towel from the dispenser. “Oh, I don’t know,” I say sarcastically. “Maybe because she’s not my mother.”
Chloe opens up a tube of red lipstick. “Fail. It’s not her fault your parents are getting a divorce.”
“He wants to start a family with her.”
The tube pauses above her lips. “Okay, that’s not the easiest issue to deal with, but what are you going to do? Be a bitch forever? Make this harder on Jamie? Are you going to hate a new brother or sister?”
I whip the paper into the trash. “It just feels like I’m betraying my mother.”
Chloe shrugs and closes her lipstick. “I can see that. Yet being persistently rude to the Sara doesn’t equate to sticking up for your mother. And it sure as hell isn’t going to change anything.”
“You’re right,” I concede.
When we go back out, I try to keep the sullen look from my face and even join in on the conversation a bit. This woman will soon be my stepmother. And though I’m not looking forward to that day, I’m thinking Chloe’s right. Acting like a brat isn’t going to change anything, only make the transition harder for everyone because by that time my father will have partial custody of Jamie, which essentially means Sara will be her part time mother.
Divorce really does suck.
***
My father hangs his coat on the hook on the wall near the booth before sliding in across from me. “Your call and invitation to lunch was a nice surprise.”
For most of my life, I was equally in awe of both of my parents. Both were slightly stern, but they always had time for me whether it was coming to watch me play in the marching band, movie nights, or the board games I loved as a kid. However, my father didn’t just break my mother’s heart almost a year ago, he broke mine too by destroying our family.
I glance around the diner. “This isn’t going to be a friendly lunch.”
He raises a brow at me.
“I wanted to talk about a few things since you and mom can’t seem to communicate.”
“Riley—”
“Just let me say what I need to okay?”
He nods as the waitress comes up.
After we order our drinks, I take a deep breath and start. “I’ve been upset at you since you left, and I’m still upset. I’ll probably be pissed for a while that you destroyed our family.” He raises another brow, probably at my language, but I don’t care. This has to come out and it is coming out honestly. “But Chloe helped me realize my anger isn’t helping Jamie, me, or even mom. More importantly, Jamie needs to be with you more than six hours a week.”
My father’s fingers drum on the table. “Until the divorce is finalized that’s all you mother will allow.”
“I know but Sara said you were buying a house and maybe if you explained Jamie would have her own room, mom will cave. But you need to talk with her. Maybe apologize.”
“Apologize?”
“Yeah, apologize. You left her. Did you ever tell her you were sorry things didn’t work out after twenty one years of marriage?”
“All of those things were said before I left.”
“Maybe you need to say them again.”
The waitress sets our drinks down, coffee for him and water for me. She asks if we’re ready to order. We both say no at the same time. My dad stares at me as she leaves.
“Listen, I may be pissed at you, but I called. I’m going to try not being such a bitch to your girlfriend. It’s hard to like her because of mom, but I’m willing to try. Why? Because in the long run my behavior is just going to hurt people, especially Jamie. I don’t want my attitude to rub off on her. If I can swallow my anger and pride, why can’t you kiss your soon to be ex-wife’s ass so you can spend more time with your daughter?”
His expression turns angry. “What is with your disrespectful mouth?”
“Sorry, I’m a little emotional. I’ll try to tone it down. Please answer the question.”
He runs a hand across his face. “You’re right. If I can spend more time with Jamie and you, me being contrite and pleading with your mother should be feasible.”
“Just try for Friday after school through Sunday morning. And you need to be very, very contrite.”
His mouth turns down in confusion.
I nod at the huge window and outside where my mother is walking in from the parking lot, slide out of the booth, and grab my coat from a hook. “Here she comes.” Walking away from my father’s wide eyed look, I meet my mother just as she enters the diner.
“Did you get a table yet?” she asks.
“Um, yeah.” I gesture to the booth at the end of the line. “Dad’s here.”
Her skin whitens when her eyes find the back of his head.
“He wants to talk,” I say in a reassuring tone.
“Riley—”
“You need to talk with him. You’re both still our parents.”
Shaking her head, she steps back.
I reach for her arm. “Mom, do this for Jamie. For me. For you.” She looks at me with petrified eyes. I feel like a manipulative asshole, but I press. I’ve become persistence with her. “It’s just talking. You can do this. You’re strong enough to do this.”
She gives me a nasty look, but takes a deep breath and moves past me. I watch her slowly hang her coat next to his and then sit. Her face is tight, her eyes hostile. I push out the door and go to my car, but I don’t leave rather watch them while my car warms up. My father’s talking. My mother’s crying. She tears at the napkin bin near the inside end of the booth.
Feeling like a jerk again, I sink down in my seat. This might have been too much for her.
Then my mother is talking and moving her hands. My father’s shoulders slump. His head is bowed. Her moving hands grip the edge of the table before she pushes away. My father grabs one of her hands, and though I can’t see his expression, his posture is repentant.
My mother slowly sits back across from him then they talk and nod and drink coffee. The guilt in my stomach slowly uncoils the longer they sit. When she stands and reaches for her coat, she lets him help her into it.
I shift my car into reverse as hope replaces my guilt.