I hear the game controller fall to the floor. Carl shifts in the noisy beanbag chair. “Taken? One fucking date and you’re done? What the fuck man. What happened to making our way around the freshman, maybe even the sophomore, girl populace? You’re gonna waste the whole semester proving how romantic you are and not getting any pussy. When she gets tired of you, or when you cut your hair, she’s going to move on and you’ll still be a fucking virgin!”
My eyes widen as his tone intensifies. I don’t need our whole floor knowing I haven’t screwed a girl yet. “Shut the fuck up, Carl. You have no idea what you’re talking about. This girl is something special, dude. The kind of girl you only wish would look at you...sideways. So stop talking shit about her and about me and worry about yourself getting laid.”
“Fine, man. Marry her for all I care. But don’t cry to me when you wake up one day and you realize you’ve been looking at the same pussy your whole damn life. You and Mia may go on to ride off happily into the sunset, but one day when your silky hair is gray or better yet, non-existent, remember this conversation and say, ‘damn, that good looking bastard, Carl, was right. I wish I’d gotten more pussy in college.’”
What a fucking douche. A funny douche, but still a douche. I laugh, despite my best efforts not to. “I’ll take my chances. Now leave it alone.”
Toothbrushes, check. Overnight pull-ups, check. Pinky the dancing bear and her polka dot tutu, check. I’ve done it more than once by now; you’d think I’d have it covered.
“Mommy, can you pack The Wizard of Oz and Airbuddies? Daddy got a movie player and popcorn!”
Popcorn? He knows I don’t let the kids have popcorn. Either he’s trying to piss me off or he plans on spoiling them by giving them things I don’t let them have to win them over. There’s no doubt that they miss having him around every day; things are definitely different. But kids are resilient, and mine have slid right into this separation as if it were any other business trip or extended time apart. Poor things have no idea what’s going on. Shit, I have no idea what’s going on. I’m just taking each day as it comes. And right now my day includes dropping my kids off at their father’s for the weekend, getting a facial, and then going out with Noah again.
But now I feel guilty. I’m their mother, the focus isn’t supposed to be on me. I sacrificed that the minute they came into this world and let out their first squealing cries. How terrible of me to be pawning them off so that I can have a good time. And while I have that good time, I could be setting a lasting impression that will stick with them for years. God, they’re going to hate me! Maybe I should let Declan give them popcorn, take them to Toys ‘R Us for a shopping spree. My only job in life is to keep them out of harm’s way—are my actions harming them?
Who am I kidding? They don’t know about my actions, they’re toddlers. What they don’t know won’t hurt them. But popcorn...that can hurt them. “No popcorn, baby. You know it’s not safe. I’ll pack your favorite Goldfish and we’ll get all the goodies for s’mores on the way.”
My head actually hurts from the inner beating I’m giving myself. My brain’s been sparring with my heart for two months over this, but it’s gotten me nowhere. Declan and I are still apart and Noah and I are growing closer. And while there are days I really miss my husband and the life we created together, I am beginning to love the new life Noah has shown me. But I’d be a fool to think it will always be like this, and I’m not a fool. I have two kids that will always be a part of my life and Noah hasn’t even met them yet. We haven’t talked about how they would fit into his life if we became more serious. So for now, I’m leaving it alone. I don’t want serious. I don’t need serious. I’ve been serious for too long. We’re having fun without any expectations from the other. Fun is just about all I can handle right now.
An hour later, I pull up in front of Declan’s new place. His parents own a bunch of rental properties, and since this house happened to be in between tenants, Declan took it. He moved right in the week he came home from Hong Kong, the whole process so robotic it made me think he’d had the rental lined up ahead of time. When I accused him of that, though, he only shook his head. He was so indifferent, so calm. It hurt, but it made my decision to go forward with Noah that much easier.
I don’t hear from Declan at all, other than to talk about the kids, and that’s when I see him at drop offs. I mostly get the scoop through Grace, who apparently has found a new BFF in my husband. Pisses me the hell off! She’s supposed to be on my side. I mean, I still take precedence over him, but she thinks I’m nuts for pursuing the whole Noah thing. She keeps telling me that Declan is miserable, but as he walks out the door to help us out of the car, I can’t help but notice that he looks fine. Like the whole idea of dropping my kids off to him so I can go on a date is just second nature. The whole transition is just so flipping...weird.