Things We Didn't Say - By Kristina Riggle Page 0,103
out, isolation wasn’t such a great plan.
Forsythia trumpets the arrival of spring, manifesting as flashes of bright yellow in my peripheral vision as I zip down the road.
There’s no bike rack at the office, but they let me wheel my bike in and park it in an empty cubicle next to mine, like my very own garage. My boss, Carla, thinks it’s precious that I ride a bike and wear a Hello Kitty helmet.
But the helmet was a present from Jewel, so of course I wear it. She’s got one, too.
I’m a few minutes early—traffic was so light today—so I call Michael’s cell.
“Hi,” he answers. “Happy Birthday.”
“You ready for today?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“You sure I can’t come?”
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want you to have to deal with this anymore.”
“You know I don’t mind.”
“I know. See you tonight?”
“I’ll be there with bells on.” I pause, waiting for an “I love you” to spring to my lips, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t say it either. We say our good-byes warmly, and hang up.
We said it too fast last time, both out of relief to have found someone new, someone with whom we could erase history. This time we can wait.
After all, I’m twenty-seven today. I’m not exactly doddering.
I turn on my computer and mentally send Michael good-luck wishes in court.
Mallory took off with some new guy shortly after the disaster weekend, disappearing for three weeks and then calling the house, talking about coming back to town, seeking physical custody again, as soon as she “got things sorted out.” She has been absent ever since, except for the occasional rambling e-mail to one of the kids. Today, at Friend of the Court, Michael will petition to have her visitations suspended in light of her vanishing act and erratic behavior. If he prevails, we won’t have to worry she’ll swoop back to town and pick up the kids like old times, without us knowing anything about her mental state, drug use, or romantic entanglements. It means if she wants time with her kids again, she’ll have to petition for it, “as both parties agree.”
She could remain with her paramour out of state, or she could turn up today with a powerful lawyer, as she’s hinted in the e-mails. We’ve stopped trying to guess what will happen.
Michael and I, over evenings of Chinese food and bad movies, have dissected her behavior again and again. It might seem unhealthy, but we’re both too tired to keep things in anymore, so when the conversation circles back to her, we both give up on clamping down.
Mallory had him in a tight corner after that weekend. His son had run away on his watch, and Mallory pretended that he hit her. She could have blamed the destroyed living room on him, in fact, saying he attacked her. She’d been hinting to Angel that she had a rich new boyfriend who’d pay for a big-time lawyer.
She had Michael in her sights, but didn’t pull the trigger. And this was a mystery, and a source of anxiety that she was merely biding her time.
Then Angel showed us an e-mail she’d sent her mother. It was signed by all of the kids.
Dear Mom,
We will always love you and the good times you gave us. But we want you to know we’re happy with Dad. He takes really good care of us, and things are usually pretty calm.
We don’t want you to feel bad, but we’re asking you, pretty please, if you would not try to mess up something that’s working. If it makes you feel better, Casey isn’t living with us anymore. She and Dad still see each other but they’re taking it slow, and it’s a lot easier now, on everybody.
We still want to see you when you’re feeling good.
We know you have always done your best, but that it’s hard for you. And you’re our mom, we won’t stop loving you.
Your kids,
Angel, Jewel, and Dylan
Mallory’s response was simply: If that’s what you want.
Angel hadn’t showed us the note at first because she thought her dad would be upset with her for meddling in grown-up business. It’s taking her some time to adjust to the new Michael, who stops to think before he condemns.
Michael read the note in wonderment, and later, with the kids’ permission, shared it with me. Angel assured us the note was a joint project of all the kids, though it sounded very much like Angel when she makes an effort to be her most adult.