“That would be great.”
James put a manila envelope on the counter. “I didn’t want to,” he said. “But I drew up the papers. The ball is in your court now, Caroline. I’m not signing until you’re sure.”
It was like being punched in the gut. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. So I nodded.
Preston cooed, and I rubbed my finger across his forehead, my new diamond sparkling in the morning light. I sat down on the couch and said, “Good morning, baby boy.” As soon as he spotted the bottle, Preston started to cry. It was uncanny.
“I know,” I said, lowering the nipple to his mouth. “I feel the exact same way.”
“I’m hungry, too,” Vivi said.
The morning had started so well except for the whole hangover thing. And now this was always going to be the morning James gave me the divorce papers. Unless . . .
I had an idea. “Don’t worry about changing out of your pajamas,” I said. “Brush your teeth, and then go down to the van.” I grinned at her. “We’re going on a field trip.”
So yes, it wasn’t even eight in the morning. But I ordered six cheeseburger Happy Meals with Cokes all the same.
Then I turned back to Sloane. “Can Taylor eat a cheeseburger?”
“Yeah, he’s almost two,” she said. “Might as well indoctrinate him now.” We all laughed.
“Mom,” Vivi said. “Have you flipped your lid? You don’t let me eat this stuff.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s what makes it a fun field trip.” I winked at her.
“When God smiles, don’t ask questions,” Emerson said.
We all ate in silence, sitting in the parking lot.
“Mommy,” Adam said. “We’re having cheeseburgers for breakfast?”
“We sure are.”
After we finished our burgers, I drove through Krispy Kreme, and we each had a hot glazed doughnut for dessert. I hadn’t had fast food in nineteen years, gluten in six, or refined sugar in at least five.
I kind of hated myself when I was done, but, well, this was a day I knew my kid would never forget. She would always remember eating doughnuts and cheeseburgers in the back of a minivan with all the people she loved most in the world singing Meghan Trainor and Taylor Swift. So would I. And I had a feeling that ten years from now, this would stay with me, but those divorce papers wouldn’t.
It sort of made up for the fact that I’d had only one pound left to lose and now I was sure I had gained five in this one meal. I wanted to hate myself for it, but, you know, sometimes even uptight, regimented bitches like me deserve a break.
I did not want to weigh myself the next morning. There was no point in seeing the damage I had done. But because I am obsessive and like to punish myself, I did it anyway. I stepped on the scale, one eye closed, and held my breath for the bad news.
I had lost two pounds.
I had eaten doughnuts and McDonald’s, and I weighed one pound less than before I got pregnant with Preston. It was a moment that defied physics. It made me feel like anything was possible. If I could eat like crap and still lose weight, then maybe I could forgive James, too. Maybe we could move on and clean up the mess we had made out of our life together.
It wasn’t like me to be forgiving and pliable and sweet. It wasn’t like me at all. But it wasn’t like me to eat fast food, either, and that had turned out OK. I was thirty-four years old. And I decided that maybe it was time for me to start making some different decisions. Maybe it was time for me to try something new.
THIRTY-ONE
the good old-fashioned way
ansley
Peachtree’s motto is “A Place to Call Home.”
I’d never thought about it that much, but my subconscious must have. Because when I contemplated what Carter had said to me that night when I got home from the hospital after my IUI, this mandate about the creative ways in which we could get this baby, home was what I thought of first. I wanted to go home. I couldn’t get pregnant by a stranger. I needed to go home.
So that’s what I did. It was fitting that when I arrived in Peachtree that night in 1982, without a word to my grandmother, it was pouring rain. Because that was how I felt, like everything in me was streaming down and together, a waterfall too powerful and scary to be beautiful. I had talked myself out of it on the plane more than a few times. But now I was resolved. I was strong. Nervous. But resolved.
I hadn’t called him before I came. I knew that if I called, he would know something was up. So I held my breath when I rang the doorbell, hoping the warm light streaming from the windows meant that he was home.
I’m sure the sight of me on the front stoop, rain pouring off the light jacket I had packed for emergencies, wasn’t something he expected. But he didn’t seem terribly ruffled.
“Ansley,” he said, pulling me in through the door. “Come in out of that rain.”
He unzipped my jacket and helped me out of it, and for a moment, I thought I wasn’t going to have to say a word. Something sparked between us like the electric start on a gas stove, just like it had all those years ago. You could almost hear it pop. If I had leaned in, I know I wouldn’t have had to say a single word.
He pushed my hair, wet around my face from the space the hood couldn’t cover, behind my ears as I studied him. That same strong jawbone, those deep brown eyes, so soulful and warm and wise. And I knew it wasn’t only Peachtree that was like coming home.
It was Jack.
He had moved into his grandmother’s house after she died, couldn’t let go of his connection to this place. I couldn’t help but think that in some small way, it was because Peachtree was his remaining connection to me. Or maybe I flattered myself.
I didn’t know where to start, but he didn’t say a word. He walked to the fridge and handed me a beer. “Long flight?”
I shrugged. “Not too bad.”
“How’s New York?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I’ve come to like it more, but I miss the South.”
He nodded. “You’ll always be a Southern girl.”
“How’s Peachtree?”
“Same old. I’m moving to Atlanta next month. I got a job offer there that I can’t refuse. Life by the sea is magic, but it’s time to move on.”
I felt a knot growing in my stomach. I liked him here, in Peachtree, where I knew where he was, what he was doing, where to find him if I needed him. Part of me wanted to beg him to stay. Part of me wanted to stay, too.
We made small talk for another few minutes until I thought I would burst. Then the enormity of it hit me, the enormity of what I was going to do. I hadn’t truly decided if I would tell Jack what I was up to. Maybe I would feign an affair, fly in to see him once a month until I got what I wanted, never let him know that he had a child. But now that I was here, staring at that face I had said “I love you” to so many times, that face I had promised to always be there for, I knew I couldn’t do it.