beautifully broken:if i break 3(31)

It’s going to be a new wonderful fantastic day. Well, even if it’s not, it can’t get any worse than yesterday. The sky would literally have to fall to beat that disaster. I think back to last year, when it was just me and Caylen, how simple things were then. Except I was lonely, frustrated and I had a broken heart. The sad thing is not much has changed. Well, now I’m beyond frustrated, confused, and I’m afraid to break someone’s heart. I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for one of them, that I’m not strong enough for the other, yet I can’t let either of them go. Great, right? At least I got to see Caylen. Hold her in my arms and her little smile makes all of this seem worth it. Even being called a slut who used my own child to keep a man who is about to have me on the brink of a psychotic break down is worth her smile.

It took everything in me to not go after Jenna yesterday but I knew she was drunk, and deep down I can’t blame her for being angry. I try to remind myself that my life wasn’t the only one disrupted, hers was too. It’s just hard to feel sorry for someone who is such a bitch, and how could she call me a whore when I’m the one married to…well, them I guess.

I’m married to them.

It’s like the title of a Jerry Springer episode.

I’m so hungry, but I’ve been avoiding the kitchen like the plague. I just can’t see the Scotts right now. I can’t help but feel it’s my fault for Cal coming back, which to them is like spreading the plague. Then, being in the middle of Cal’s epic tantrum. I know Mr. Scott blames me. Mrs. Scott was so sweet and comforting, yesterday. I know she’s going through so much on her own. Not knowing who your son is going to be when he shows up, has to be as bad as not knowing who your husband is going to be. The good thing in all of this is Helen comes today, and I am hoping talking to her will help me to sort this out, to be able to talk honestly without worrying if I’m hurting someone. To tell someone how much I’m hurting. My phone starts to vibrate and I see it’s Lisa. I instantly feel guilty about telling Chris what she told me. I at least should be the one to tell her before he does. I’m not sure if Chris will, but just in case.

“Hey,” she says, not sounding like her usually chipper self.

“Hey Lisa. How are you?” I say, trying to muster up my own chipper tone.

“Okay, I guess. I was hoping you could meet me, so we can talk,” she says, her voice almost monotone. Maybe Chris called her or went over there last night and she’s pissed.

“Uhm. Did you talk to Chris?”

“Not today. I wanted to talk to you first,” she replies.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

“Okay is relative isn’t it?” she kids, sounding for a moment like the Lisa I’ve come to know.

“I have to meet with a friend later on today…”

“Can we meet now?” she interrupts. I look at the clock, it’s not even 7:30 am.

“We can get breakfast. There’s a diner named Goldman’s about five minutes away from you. It’s on me.”

“Uh. Okay. Give me twenty minutes.”

“Great. I’ll text you the exact address.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, and Lauren, can you not mention to Chris that you’re meeting me?” she adds and the twinge of guilt I felt earlier turns into a complete stab.

“Please,” she says after my long pause.

“Not a problem,” I say hesitantly.

“See you soon.”



*



When I walk into Goldman’s, it’s relatively empty. I guess for a Tuesday morning it’s expected. I easily spot her in the booth stirring her iced water with a straw. I walk over to the booth and slide in.

“Thanks for coming,” she says with a small grin. Her hair is pulled back into a short pony tail. She doesn’t have her usual make up on. Any actually. Her blue eyes dart between me and her water.

“You didn’t bring Caylen.”

“No, Mrs. Scott is going to keep an eye on her until I get back.”

“Chris didn’t work today?”

“I’m not sure. I’m actually sort of avoiding him,” I say with a sigh. Her eyebrow raises.

“You know the whole Cal coming back thing has kind of thrown things off track,” I joke and I notice her smile tighten.

“About Cal. I’m so sorry that he spoke to you that way,” I say apologetically.

“Did he say anything about me?” she says abruptly. Other than calling her a lying little cunt…

“Not much,” I lie. She eyes me searching my expression as if she’s looking for another answer. Or to see if I’m lying.