Bad Mommy(30)

When I looked up, Darius was watching me from the other side of the table. I felt warm all the way down to my toes.





Jolene and I were chatting in the kitchen when Darius got home from work. He had a brown drippy stain on his shirt, and he was wearing black-rimmed glasses, which I’d never seen him in before. He was unusually quiet, kissing her on the cheek and shooting a quick hello at me before grabbing a glass from the drying rack. Our conversation about Mercy’s sleepover with Jolene’s mom dwindled as we both zoned in on his tense back.

“Did work suck?” she asked, walking over to where he was slicing a lime for his drink, and rubbing his back.

This was my favorite part of the day—when Darius talked about his clients. He never told us their names, but there were always stories that either made us laugh, or had us groaning. Jolene said he was unburdening their burdens. He shrugged her off and moved to the trash can to toss the dried up part of the lime. Seemingly unaffected by his casual rejection, Jolene walked across the kitchen and sat at the table, propping her feet up on the chair next to her as Darius launched into a full account of his day. He finished his drink and poured another while we asked him questions about the lady who forced her ten-year-old son to wear pink even though he was made fun of at school.

“I got a text from Rachel today,” he said, finally, pulling a bottle of gin from the cabinet. Rachel, that was a name I’d never heard. I glanced at Jolene, who was picking at her nails. Her face was neutral, giving me no indication of who this Rachel girl was.

“Oh yeah, what did she say?”

“She’s getting divorced. She sounded pretty bad. I guess he’s going for full custody of their son.”

Jolene spun around, her face contorted. “Is she okay?”

Darius shrugged. “She’s pretty depressed. She tried to commit suicide once a few years ago, so you never know with her. She asked if I’d be in town soon.”

I was just wondering where “in town” was, when Jolene said, “She still lives in Miami?”

Darius nodded. “I told her I was going to be there for a conference next week, and she asked if we could have coffee.”

“You should see her,” Jolene said. “If she has no one else, maybe you can help.”

Darius’s eyes flashed like he was angry she’d suggest such a thing.

“She’s my ex-girlfriend, Jolene. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

Her chin jutted defiantly as her eyes filled with tears. “No, of course not. I trust you. If she’s in trouble, you’re equipped to help. You’re a psychologist, for God’s sake.”

“I’m sure she has help,” he said under his breath, turning away and pouring himself another drink.

I stood as still as I could, afraid that if they remembered I was there all of this would stop.

“It was just a suggestion, Darius. I didn’t mean anything by it,” she said, softly.

Darius leaned with his back against the counter, running the rim of his glass across his lower lip. He was different in that moment, perhaps too much to drink. I shivered at the wild look in his eyes.

“She still has feelings for me. Is that what you want, Jo? For her to come on to me so you can do your own thing?”

“That’s sick,” Jolene spat. She stood up from the table, her phone falling to the kitchen floor with a loud bang.

“Not that I’d say no. She’s still sexy as fuck.”

I felt a surge of jealousy toward this Rachel girl. I wanted to see her, know what she looked like.

Jolene’s face turned a bright shade of red. I expected her to lash out, maybe yell at him, but instead she walked calmly to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water.

“Whatever you want, Darius.” Her eyes were glued to his face as she unscrewed the cap on the bottle and took a sip. Was she suggesting that he wanted Rachel? It was sort of hypocritical when you knew what she was up to with Ryan.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” he said. “That’s what I want.”

After he left we just stood there in silence, both of us too afraid to look at the other. What just happened?

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“No,” she snapped, and I thought I saw her swipe away a tear. “He told me that he wants to fuck another girl in front of my friend.”

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” I said. “He was just joking around.”

“Fig, you have a skewed view of Darius. I know you … respect him. But, you don’t know him.” She was red in the face, her lips a pale thin line. I thought of all those women who posted on her fan sites and wondered what they would think if they could see her now: ugly and flustered. Deeply human. No one would be running out to get tattoos of her words if they could see her being this pathetic. I briefly considered taking a picture of her just like this and posting it somewhere. She’d know it was me.