“So . . . what happened?” Ally asked. My eyes teared up with the question, and I wiped at them quickly.
“He isn’t in love with me anymore,” I rasped, my bottom lip quivering. “We’re getting a divorce.” It was in that moment I realized the hell the next few months of my life would be . . . maybe even years. Of course, people I knew would run into Kurt with his new girlfriend and report back to me. Especially friends. And even if they didn’t, it was only a matter of time before I ran into them myself, and that was something I just couldn’t bear.
I glanced up at my girls. Neither really knew what to say. Instead of speaking, they scooted their chairs closer to mine and took turns hugging me while I cried. When I managed to calm down a bit, I told them about my trip to Virginia and the business that was left to me.
“Now what the hell am I supposed to do?” I hiccupped.
“Well clearly you decided to come here,” Ashley notes as she looks at the notebook she’s been writing in. “How’d that come to be?” They all wait for my reply.
I’ve been sitting in one position for far too long. I adjust in my seat and clear my throat. I can’t help smiling a little, even though at the time I felt like my soul was being crushed.
“Who farted? Vanessa?” Ally questioned as she twisted her neck and looked back at Vanessa.
“It wasn’t me,” Vanessa mumbled. She was sitting in the backseat, her head laid back on the headrest, as she dozed with one of those sleep masks on.
“This traffic is horrendous,” I groaned. We were thirty minutes away from Sky High Skydiving when we hit traffic and hadn’t moved in over an hour. I was grateful for their company on the trip, especially since they were only able to stay two days because they’d have to get back to work. When I’d told them my plans, there was no question for them—they were going to help me. At first, I wasn’t comfortable with imposing on either of them. But Ally had quickly reassured me, stating, “Jed is a grown ass man. He can hold his own for a couple of days.” Vanessa was also on board. Knowing how—understandably—attached she was to her kids, I waited till the weekend, when her husband volunteered to visit with the grandparents.
“We could’ve flown if someone wasn’t scared shitless of planes,” Ally said, twisting her mouth. It was obvious she was talking about Vanessa who was terrified of flying.
“I don’t want to die,” Vanessa murmured.
“There is, like, a one in a million chance you’d die in a plane crash. You’re more likely to die in a car wreck,” Ally argued as she lowered her window and spit her gum out as if she were hawking a loogie.
“That was ladylike,” I said dryly, to which Ally stuck her tongue out at me.
“But a car is on the ground,” Vanessa muttered, getting back to the previous topic.
Ally looked at me and shook her head. She had huge brown sunglasses on that made her head look mutant and tiny and even though I couldn’t see her eyes, I knew she was rolling them. I somehow managed to laugh quietly.
“Stop talking smack, Ally,” Vanessa warned. Even with the mask on she knew we were laughing at her, which only made us laugh more.
We both burst into laughter as I put the car in drive because traffic started moving. Unfortunately, we only moved a tiny bit before stopping again. But, yay, we were getting closer. “It’s good to see you smile, Clara,” Ally said. “It’s been a while.”
For some reason the statement made me want to cry, but I fought it. It had been five weeks since Kurt abandoned me. And I wasn’t feeling any better about it. Yeah, he was a major asshole, but I missed him. I hated the thought of divorce. I hated I’d failed—or rather we failed. He was my husband. I loved him. I wasn’t ready to give up on him. I hadn’t left when we’d failed at having a baby. And our failed marriage was something I stupidly would have worked on. So I didn’t leave without giving it one more shot. I had to try. So I called him. He didn’t answer. Then I called him again. No answer. At that point, I was not going to sugarcoat it . . . it hurt like hell. After three weeks and three voice mails, he finally returned my call and agreed to meet me for coffee.
I got to the Mean Bean Coffee Shop twenty minutes early. He was thirty minutes late—as if I wasn’t already feeling pathetic enough for begging him to meet with me. As he sat down, he wouldn’t even make eye contact with me, and it crushed me.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I managed.
“I only have ten minutes. I have to get back to work.”