Bad Mommy(50)

We sat down to dinner and I checked my phone. I liked to pretend that I was checking for texts about Mercy, but I had to make sure no one was sending me things I had to keep my wife from seeing. I’m not always proud of the person I am, but we all have our struggles. When I looked up from my phone, I saw that Jolene was bent over hers with a slight smile on her lips.

“Who are you texting?” I snapped.

“Who are you texting?” she shot back.

We were still locked in an eye duel when the server came to take our drink order. The blatancy of her texting Ryan while she sat at dinner with me made me angry.

“We should get Mercy a puppy,” she said, suddenly. “For Christmas.”

“How about a bike?” I was still focused on her phone. I’d have to check the iPad later, see what they were talking about.

“Darius,” she said, narrowing her eyes playfully. “We like dogs. Two dog lovers against one dog hater.”

“I don’t hate them. Okay, I do.”

“I want a husky,” she said. “It’s my dream dog. I’ve only ever had little dogs, but I’m a big dog person. I know it in my heart.”

I had a physical reaction—my head jerked up and I looked her in the eyes for the first time in the ten minutes we’d been there.

“Have you said that to anyone else?”

She made a face. “Yeah, I guess. Why?”

I ran a hand over my face, shaking my head. I could tell her but she didn’t listen anyway.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Is it about Fig?” She looked down at the table and played with her fork. She was bored with this. I guess I’d been a broken record about it.

“Forget it,” I said.

“No,” she reached out her hand and touched mine, “I’m sorry. It’s just that everyone always wants to talk about Fig and her fixation. I know, I get it. It’s exhausting. The only one who doesn’t know about her fixation is Fig.”

“Oh, she knows,” I said. “On some level, she knows.”

“What did she do now?”

“She said what you just said, word for word, about a husky.”

“To who?”

“It was at Mercy’s birthday party. I overheard her say it to the real estate agent, that friend of yours…”

“Oh,” was all she said. “Yeah, I guess I did tell her that.”

I was thinking about Ryan again, that fucker. He was pretending to be her friend, pretending to care. I had this guy’s number.





There she was pushing her way into our dates again, texting her woes to make Jolene feel sorry for her. I was frustrated, my drink sweating in front of me, untouched. We were supposed to be in Bellevue for dinner and drinks, maybe catch a movie after. I was trying to convince Jolene to see a film nominated for an Oscar, but she hated Robert Redford and was digging her heels in. Usually I could guilt her into seeing a movie I wanted to see, it wasn’t like her to hold out for this long. It was going quite well, we were sitting at the bar in one of Jolene’s favorite restaurants, her knees were brushing against mine, and I could smell her perfume—my favorite. We were laughing and kissing, arguing about this year’s Oscar nominations, when the screen on her phone flashed to notify her that she had a text message. I watched her read it, her face growing dark. I knew that look.

“Fig?” I said.

She nodded, her smile gone. So was the mood. I swear that woman could suck the joy right out of a room.

“She’s only doing this because we’re out together,” I said. “Do you really think it’s a coincidence that she turns into a morbidly depressed alcoholic every time we have a date night?”

“You always think the worst of people,” she said. She was frowning, looking at me like I was the enemy. “She’s having a hard time. I’m trying to help. I just want her to see that life can be good. She has no one and George is so withdrawn.”

I could have answered her in a nicer way, kept my tone even and my voice low, but I was so fed up with all of it. Not being able to have my wife alone for one night a month, not being able to say what I really wanted to say. Not being able to control myself.

“Goddamnit, Jolene. Stop being so stupid.” I was loud. The bartender glanced up at us from the other side of the bar.

When Jolene looked at me her eyes were cold. I’d crossed a line. She didn’t like to be embarrassed, and I’d raised my voice to her in public. She stood up without a word and walked out of the restaurant, leaving me there alone. I cursed, yanking my wallet out of my pocket and dropping two twenties on the bar. That had not gone the way I’d planned. I’d wanted to have a nice night, maybe bring up the lawsuit on the way home after I spent the night reminding her of how good we are together. I’d planned on laying out my sob story; the girl had a bad case of transference. She’d come on to me and when I rejected her she wanted to make me pay. And that was the truth, wasn’t it? Jolene had a way of ruining things with her moods. I’d planned this beautiful night for us and she treated me with disrespect, storming out on me and acting like a child.