by M. E. Carter
I watch as they come running back in the room, squealing in delight. I feel so blessed in this moment to be sitting here with everyone I love in the same room. I haven’t felt this peaceful in a long time.
“Do they do this all day?”
“All day, every day.”
“You’ve done an amazing job with them, Mari.”
She looks up at me and blinks. I can tell she wasn’t expecting the compliment.
“Really. They’re just so happy and love each other so much. I know so many kids have a difficult time when their parents get divorced. But they just seem to have adjusted really well. You should be proud of yourself.”
“Thanks,” she says quietly and clears her throat. “So, um… what do you think of my final product?”
She turns her computer in my direction so I can see how she’s edited one of her pictures. After our conversation the other day, she bit the bullet and purchased some beginner software.
The picture is of the three kids from behind. They’re all running for the playground in front of them. Since Theo is the slowest, he’s behind the girls, by a lot. The girls are blurry in the background, but the colors are amazing. The blues especially are so bright and vivid, I can’t look away.
“You should blow that up and hang it up somewhere.”
“You think?” she asks with a delighted smile.
“Absolutely. You’re really good at this. You’ve come a long way in the amount of time you’ve been doing it.”
“Thanks, Santos. I forgot how much I enjoyed taking pictures, but I didn’t realize I was going to have so much fun taking my pictures and really creating with them.”
I watch her as she keeps clicking around, making things bigger and smaller, cropping them different ways. It occurs to me that when we were married, she never focused on her hobbies and interests. She was a mother first, a WAG second, and that didn’t leave time for anything else.
“Why are you staring at me?” she asks without taking her eyes away from the screen.
I smile at being caught. “I was just thinking how happy I am to see you enjoying some hobbies again. And I’m thinking how much I like your new hair.”
She looks over at me and runs her fingers through the strands, trying to look at them. “You do? It’s not too much? I wasn’t totally sure about going blond like this. I feel like I might be too old to pull it off now.”
I shake my head. “No way. It looks amazing on you.”
She smiles again. “Thank you, Santos. Anyway, how is the application coming?”
I rub my face. “My brain is totally fried already. And I’m not even in school yet.”
When I quit the team, I already had a back-up plan. My initial career choice in college, back before it became clear that I was going to go pro and everyone was still telling me I needed to plan for a “real” job, was to be a math teacher and coach in middle school. Middle school students always appealed to me a little more than high school. Their drama is a little more innocent, and they’re just squirrelly and funny. Plus, the few times I’ve helped Daniel with his charity soccer club, I’ve found they are the best kids to coach.
So now I’m applying to get into the rapid certification program. Since I already have a math degree, it shouldn’t be that hard to get in. Math teachers are always in demand and male teachers even more so.
“What’s so hard about filling out the application?”
“It’s not the actual application. It’s having to go back to my alma mater’s website to try and find all my transcripts. But since that was so long ago, my transcripts aren’t on file so I have to send an email to the registrar. It’s a big pain.”
“Yuck. I’d offer to help, but I just don’t feel like it,” she teases with a flirty smile.
“Nah. You’re doing enough just by letting me hang out here for a while during the open house today.”
“No buyers for the house yet?”
“Not yet. I’m hoping it catches someone’s eye today.”
“Mooooooom!” Myra suddenly races into the room again like a little lunatic. I’m immediately on guard, wondering what has her so upset. Mari, however, stays calm. “Theo pooped mom! He pooped! And it stinks! You need to change him,” she demands.
“Why don’t you change him?” she teases back.
Myra crinkles up her little nose in disgust. “Ew, Mom. I don’t know how to change a diaper.”
“Hmm. Maybe it’s time you learned how,” Mari suggests.
“Mooom. Come on,” Myra pleads, the previous topic no longer up for discussion.
“I’ll go,” I say, rising to my feet. “If I don’t get away from this computer for a little bit, I just may launch it across the room.”
“Thank you. He poops so much, my nose can no longer tell the difference between the smell of poop and baby wipes.”
“He got his constitution from his daddy!” I pat my belly and give her a big ornery grin.
“Yes, he does. Also, I can’t believe you just said that, weirdo. His diapers should be in the diaper holder next to the bed. If it’s empty, check under his crib.”
I walk by the girls’ room and see Theo standing with his hands over his eyes again. Lina is hiding behind the curtain. The curtain that’s only long enough to cover her up to her knees so her legs are sticking out.
I snicker. I love that they’re still young enough to be cute when they do weird things.
Checking the diaper holder, I see that it’s empty, so I go in search of more. There’s nothing under the crib. Maybe she meant under the bed.
Nope, nothing under there either except a couple of flat totes. Well, shit.
“Hey, Mari, you said the diapers would be under the crib, right?”
“Yeah,” she calls down the hall. “Are they not there?”
“No. And they aren’t under the bed either.”
She comes into the room holding the diaper bag. “Well, shit. I thought I had another package. Hang on.” She digs through the diaper bag until she finds what she’s looking for. “Looks like this is the last one. Would you mind hanging out with the kids while I run to Walmart for more?”
“Why don’t we all go?”
“To Walmart?”
“Why not? It’ll get me away from the computer for a little bit so I’m not stalking my email for the transcripts. And it’ll give the kids a change of scenery. You know they love walking up and down the Easter aisle. Giant inflatable bunnies are the best thing to ever happen to this holiday.”
Half an hour later, after pottying everyone, changing the last of the diapers, and getting everyone safely to the store, I’m pushing the cart as we meander through the aisles, looking at decorations.
Theo is making us all laugh as he points and gasps at all the colors and candy.
“I love it when they’re this age,” Mari ponders. “I love watching holidays and celebrations through their eyes.”
“I think you’ve said that with every one of the kids.”
“It’s been true with every one of them. It’s almost like getting to enjoy the magic again. It makes me happy.”
“Me, too.” Theo lets out another squeal of delight when the girls point out a giant Mickey Mouse with bunny ears on his head.
“We really need to take these kids to Disney World,” I say quietly to her, hoping the girls don’t hear me.
“Maybe once the house sells.”
I look at her quizzically. “You’d do that? Take the kids to Disney World with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I guess I just thought you wouldn’t want to be around me for that long. An afternoon during an open house is one thing. But a family trip… that’s more personal.”
She sighs and pushes her hands in her pockets. “Yeah, I know. And I don’t want you to get any grandiose ideas or anything, but in most ways, you’re still my best friend. I like being around you, and I think I would enjoy a family vacation with you and the kids.”
Mar
i turns around when I stop walking in the middle of the aisle. I’m not just surprised by her comments. I’m actually shocked.
“What? Why’d you stop?” She leans in closer to the cart when someone tries to squeeze their way around us.
“I just thought, I mean, you’ve just been so angry with me. You caught me off guard.”
“I kind of caught myself off guard, too.” We begin moving again, to the relief of the people behind us. “I think I was tired of being mad at you. It’s exhausting having such intense emotions all the time. And I realized I was holding myself back by not letting go.” She shrugs. “I haven’t forgotten yet, or anything. But I feel a lot, I guess, lighter since I finally made the decision to forgive you and let go of the anger.”
“Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”
“There’s not really anything to say. It’s just part of healing, I think.”
We wander aimlessly over to the baby aisle, listening to the kids chatter and enjoy just being a family, even if it’s just for a short time. It’s funny, I used to take diaper runs for granted. Now, this is the highlight of my week.
It dawns on me again that I’m really lucky to have such an amazing ex-wife. Legally, she doesn’t have to let me in their lives like she does. She does it because she knows it’s best for the kids. And she knows it’s best for me. That’s the part that gets me every time. Even after everything I put her through, she still takes me into consideration with the decisions she makes.
Dammit if that doesn’t make me fall in love with her just a little bit more.
Rounding the corner, the cart almost runs into a guy crouching on the floor.
“Rowen?” I say as he stands up. His face immediately lights up in a grin.
“Hey, man,” he greets me, giving me a man-hug before turning to Mari. “Mariana,” he hugs her, too, “so good to see you.”
“You remember the kids?”
“Yeah. Hi girls,” he says kindly. “Wow. Is this the baby? He’s not so tiny anymore.”
“He’s fifteen months already,” Mari replies. Theo just stares wide-eyed at the gigantic redhead in front of us. Strangely, he’s without his trademark beanie today. “It’s crazy how fast they grow.”
“No kidding.”
“So how’s practice going?” I ask. “The new goalie? He’s doing ok?”
“Yeah, he’s not bad. He’s kind of cocky so I don’t really hang out with him off the field. But he gets the job done. Still, it’s not the same without you, Santos. You are really missed.”
Mari smiles at me.
“Yeah, well. It was time for some big changes,” I say, looking back at Mari. “I needed a fresh start. And I’m glad I don’t have to be away from my kids so much anymore. They need me around, ya know?”
He gets a wistful look and I know he’s thinking about his own baby that’s on the way. “Yeah. Yeah they do.”
I feel rather than see Mari stiffen. Looking up I realize it’s because a very pregnant Tiffany has turned the corner.
“Babe, I don’t know which brand we decided to get. Was it Pampers or…” As soon as she sees us, Tiffany stops in her tracks next to Rowen. He reaches for her and tucks her under his arm as she looks at us, wide-eyed.
None of speak. We all just stand there, looking at each other.
I put my arm around Mari’s waist. I don’t know if I do it in a show of possession or to show her my support. What I do know is that this is one of the reasons I quit the team. Scenarios like this. My mistakes are putting Mari in an extremely uncomfortable position and I’m not sure what to do. So I wait.
Eventually, Mari takes a big breath and speaks. “Pampers Swaddlers are really good when they’re first born. Do you guys have a Sam’s Club membership?”
“Um… no,” Tiffany sputters quietly.
“I would recommend getting one. Diapers are a lot cheaper there, and if it’s a boy, the only diapers that hold Theo overnight is the Sam’s Club brand.”
“Oh. Ok.”
“So how far along are you?” Mari asks, surprising all of us when she continues the conversation.
“I, um,” Tiffany stumbles over her words. “I’m twenty-two weeks.”
Mari smiles. At Tiffany. I’m standing in the baby aisle with my ex-wife, the love of my life, who is talking to my pregnant ex-lover and her husband. And no one is yelling. I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone.
“The last half was always a killer for me. How are you feeling?”
Tiffany exhales out a long breath, her hand clutched to Rowen’s chest. “I actually really hate being pregnant. I throw up at least three times a day still. And I cry over everything. All the time.”
“Pregnancy hormones are the worst. I was a raging lunatic the last three months with Theo.”
Rowen raises an eyebrow at me and his mouth quirks up just slightly. I look back at him and shake my head just slightly, making him grin a little more. Mari may be admitting to the same stuff I told him about, but she doesn’t need to know I called her a lunatic. Especially not in a tense situation like this one. I’m no dummy.
“I’m so glad to hear you say that. I feel like I’m going insane most of the time.”
“It’ll pass. And you look great.”
I lean my forehead on the top of Mari’s head and breathe in, trying to control my emotions. I never thought we would heal enough that Mari could make small talk with someone like Tiffany again.
“Thank you, Mariana. Coming from you, that means a lot.” I look up in time to see Tiffany wiping tears from her eyes and Rowen squeezing her shoulder. “See?” she laughs. “I cry over everything.”
Mari then does something I never, ever expected. She reaches over to Tiffany and pulls her into a hug.
I look at Rowen and then back at our wives. He does the same. The women mumble some things to each other that I can’t understand. The only thing I catch is Tiffany’s question of “I’m assuming you still don’t want to be friends,” and Mari answering with, “You’re right. But I’ve forgiven you so I'm ok with being friendly acquaintances when our paths cross.”
When I hear that, I can only drop my head and shake it. I can’t even describe how it makes me feel to know that she has so much goodness and forgiveness in her. To know that the pain I’ve caused her is beginning to heal. I feel like my heart is going to burst open.
They finally break apart and we all say our goodbyes. It’s been a nice visit, but there’s no reason to try and force a relationship on any of us.
As they turn the corner to leave, I grab Mari and hug her to me.
“You fucking amaze me, Mariana.” Tears of guilt and relief pool in my eyes. Pulling away, I cup her face. “You didn’t have to do that. You don’t ever have to forgive anyone who wronged you for my sake. You know that, right?”
“I know. But I told you earlier, Santos. It takes so much energy to be angry. I didn’t forgive her for her sake. Although if I’m honest, the fact that she’s remorseful and tried to right her wrongs as best she could, made it a little easier. But I didn’t do it for her. I did it for me. I feel lighter now. Like I can move on.”
I nod and kiss the top of her head, sniffing the tears away. She grabs the cart and makes her way down the aisle with the kids, but diapers are the last thing on my mind. All I can think of is how amazing she is.
And how I just fell in love with her all over again.
“Uncle Marcus, Uncle Marcus!”
I smile when I hear the girls racing to greet him and Theo finally catching up yelling what sounds like “Unca-Muck”. I gave Marcus the apartment key for emergencies. Apparently babysitting so I can go out is an emergency.
But it keeps me from having to go to the door in my robe, so I have no reason to complain.
Slowly, so I don’t accidentally poke myself in the eye, I swipe mascara over my top lashes. It takes a few minutes to make sure I get all the lashes. Those little ones on the side like to play hard to get.
Finally, I stand back and look at
myself in the mirror. Not bad. I’m not used to wearing so much make-up so the smoky-eye effect needs a little work, but overall I think I did a pretty good job. The lady at Ulta who did my makeover would be pleased.
A low whistle comes from the doorway where Marcus is leaning, arms crossed. “Look at you all gussied up. Your make-up looks amazing.”
“So I did it right?”
“Yep. You’re getting a lot better at putting it on.” He walks over and sits down on my bed. “What are you doing with your hair tonight?”
I unwrap the towel from the top of my head. “Well I didn’t wash it, so it’s mostly dry. I was thinking of flat ironing?” I’m not sure why I phrase it like a question. I know he’ll give his opinion no matter what.
He gives me the once over and I can practically see the fashion plans running through his fuchsia-covered brain.
“Definitely flat-iron. And you have some skinny jeans, right?”
“Skinny jeans? I was going to wear a skirt.”
“Uh, no honey. You got your make-up done. You got your hair done. We’re not crapping that all up by dressing like a mom.”
“I am a mom, Marcus.”
“No, baby. Tonight, you’re a vixen.”
“A vixen,” I deadpan, as I rummage through my closet, looking for a new outfit.
“A vixen, a temptress, a sex kitten.”
“Sex kitten?” I say with a laugh. I pull the jeans out from the back of the closet along with a soft red sweater and toss them on the bed next to him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been a sex kitten.”
He picks up the clothes and inspects them. “Well now is your chance. You’re thirty. Not dead.”
“Thirty-two.”
“And still not dead. I really like this sweater. What is this material? Angora? Why the hell do you have an angora sweater stuffed in the back of your closet?”
Plugging my flat iron in, I watch him finger the material. He’s really enjoying this way too much. “It’s not really my style. I got it as a Christmas present a couple years ago from Jessica Funderling. I thought she was just being nice, but now that I think about it, I think it was her passive-aggressive way of telling me I dressed like shit.”
