by Nicole Baart
Never mind that Jess was the one who had suggested she and Evan take a break.
“A classic?” Meredith asked. “Or do you want to try something new?”
“I don’t care. I have a bottle of sauvignon blanc chilling and I’ll make some guacamole.”
“Don’t.” Meredith ran her hands down her sides, smoothing her curves with a wry twist on her full lips. “I’m on a preholiday diet.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Don’t be mean. I eat my emotions; you starve yours.”
It was true. Jess had lost interest in food when Evan finally packed his bags and rented a town house on the other side of Auburn. Actually, she had lost her appetite long before that. But her thinness wasn’t lovely. It was angular, sharp. Her cheekbones were high and keen in her face, her skin too pale. Even her bra size had withered to a barely B-cup. Jess would have loved an extra ten pounds. But she didn’t say that to Meredith.
“How’s it going?”
“I think we’ve got it,” Jess said, holding up the wings so she could see them better.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.” Jess slipped the elastic loop that held the wings together over a hook beside her whiteboard. She sighed. “I’m fine, Meredith.”
But her friend wasn’t buying it. “When’s the last time you talked?”
“We text a lot. But I haven’t seen him for . . .” Jess had to think about it. “Two weeks?”
“Two weeks!” Meredith’s eyes widened behind her trendy cat’s-eye glasses. They were oversized and robin’s-egg blue, a look that would have been ridiculous on Jessica but that seemed tailor-made for Meredith. “I thought you were working on things. What happened to counseling?”
“We’ve been busy.” Jess glanced at her watch, flustered by the turn that the conversation had taken and aware that she would have students pouring through her door in minutes. It had been closer to three weeks since she had seen Evan last. They had fought when he dropped off the boys on a Sunday night nearly a month ago, and he’d been tactfully avoiding a front-door meet and greet ever since. Evan picked the boys up from school on Friday and brought them home after supper on Sunday. Jess wasn’t sure if she liked the arrangement or hated it. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Meredith. “It’s not a big deal. We’re working it out.”
“Hard to work things out if you don’t see each other.” Meredith sounded hurt, as if the slow dissolution of Jess and Evan’s marriage was personally wounding. And it probably was. Meredith had been the Chamberlains’ social worker when they adopted Gabe, and she loved him with a passion usually reserved for family. Both Max and Gabe called Meredith auntie. Of course, it was probably against some code of ethics that Meredith became personally involved with the Chamberlains, but their friendship was inevitable. Jessica knew it the moment Meredith rang their doorbell with her elbow and spilled the contents of a fat file folder all over their front porch. She had laughed at herself as Jess scrambled to collect the papers, a cell phone in one hand and a mug of cold coffee in the other. The mug was stamped: CLASSY, SASSY, & A BIT SMART ASSY. Meredith was all that and then some. She smelled just like she looked: bright and citrusy, with an undercurrent of spice. Black pepper.
“It’s complicated.” Jess fussed unnecessarily with the tattered costumes, her back to Meredith.
“And I’m worried.”
Jess sighed and turned to give Meredith her full attention for a minute. They had been mistaken for sisters before, though it seemed obvious to Jess that their similarities were superficial. Both she and Meredith had shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes, but that was about all they had in common. Jess was petite and forgettable, while Meredith wouldn’t have been seen without a wild splash of color or something that sparkled cheerfully. Even now, with her gaze sad and the corners of her mouth turned down in disappointment, Meredith shimmered. “I’m doing the best that I can,” Jess said, and she meant it in more ways than one.
“I know you are.” Meredith pulled her into a hug, the accordion file squished between them.
The bell rang and Meredith pulled away. “I’ve got to get this to Jayden,” she said, waving the file. “And you’ve got class. See you tonight, okay?”
Jess nodded and gave the hem of her cardigan a steadying tug. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“Me too.” Meredith shot her one last meaningful look and let herself out of the room, high-fiving everyone she passed as the first of Jess’s English 10 students began to file in. Jess took a deep breath and donned her upbeat teacher persona as surely as if she were putting on a costume herself. Her students couldn’t see it, but she had her own special armor and it fit her very well. Jess even managed a genuine grin as the kids groaned when they saw who she had assigned certain roles.
“You’ll make the perfect Juliet for our scene today,” Jess assured the shyest girl in her class when she realized her name was written on the board beside the initials JC. Leaning over to whisper in the girl’s ear, she added: “If you smile, they’ll never guess you’re scared.”
It was something she told herself every single day.
* * *
There was no reason for Jessica to hurry home after school. Nobody was waiting for her, eager for a snack and a listening ear. The Chamberlains didn’t even have a pet, and Jess found herself wishing for one on the long weekends when the abandoned rooms were filled with echoes and silence. Even a fish would make the empty house feel more like a home. Maybe she would run past the pet store tomorrow and grab a goldfish or two. Gabe would be ecstatic when Evan dropped the boys off on Sunday night. She suspected even Max would be pleased.
Jess’s arrangement with Evan wasn’t legal or anything, and they had existed amicably for almost six months of separation without the situation devolving into something ugly or final. They were merely treading water, going to counseling when it worked, and existing with minimal drama when it didn’t. Jess knew that Evan was waiting for her to do something—to say something or issue an ultimatum that would force them to confront the issue at hand—but she couldn’t bring herself to give him the satisfaction. She wanted an apology, plain and simple. An admittance of wrongdoing. A lightning bolt of understanding that would help him grasp that it was all the things that he didn’t say that were making her heart break.
Once, before she asked him to move out, Jess kept track of how long Evan could go without touching her. He hugged the boys, ruffled their hair, or put a hand on Max’s shoulder when he was helping him with homework. But Evan orbited Jess. He cared about her, Jess knew that, but somehow they had fallen out of love and into something that felt a lot like a business partnership. They checked things off their to-do lists, co-parented, worked hard at their respective jobs. Nothing more. There was a red pen in the organizer beside the family calendar, and one day Jess grabbed it and put a tiny dot in the corner of the square that marked the date. Ten squares bore a microscopic dot before Jess couldn’t stand it anymore. She caught Evan in the kitchen one morning, hugged him from behind, and pressed her cheek against his back as she held him tight. It was all she could do not to sob when he patted her hands and asked, “Now, what’s this all about?” I love you, she wanted to say. And I’m afraid you’ve forgotten to love me back.
Maybe it would have been easier to just keep going on as if everything were fine. They could be roommates and partners, parent their children together, nothing more, nothing less. But Jess wanted more than that. Did that make her selfish? Greedy? She felt herself melt a little, her heart turning liquid with lament, but she steeled herself before she could fall to pieces. No. She deserved passion, devotion, love. Everybody did.
Jess was putting a stack of papers for weekend grading into her messenger bag when the phone on her desk rang. It was unusual for anyone to still be in the school building so late on a Friday afternoon, and Jess reached for the handset with a snag of irritation. “Hello, you’ve reached Mrs. Chamberlain’s room.”
“Hey, Jes
sica. Carol from the elementary school here. The secondary office rang me through.”
“Hi, Carol.” Jess buckled her bag shut and slipped the strap over her shoulder, then absently busied herself by straightening the things on her desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Well, I’ve got Max and Gabe here with me. We can’t seem to get ahold of Mr. Chamberlain. Max says he was supposed to pick them up in front of school this afternoon?”
“That was the plan,” Jess said, fishing in the front pocket of her bag for her cell phone. It was dark, and when she opened the lock screen with her thumbprint, there were no missed texts or calls. “I’ll try him,” Jess said. “Tell the boys to stay put.”
“Of course. We can’t let them go without a parent or guardian.”
“Tell them I’m on my way. I’ll wait with them or I can bring them over to Evan’s, if need be.”
“Will do, Jessica. We’ll see you soon.”
A burr of frustration lodged itself in her chest as Jess hung up the phone and hurried out of her room. It wasn’t like Evan to forget something as important as picking up his boys after school. In fact, he had gone through the trouble of rearranging his schedule at the medical clinic so that he could take off early on Friday afternoons and spend extra time with them. But maybe this was the beginning of the end. Maybe Evan was tiring of the limbo that they were caught in and he was ready for something to happen—even if it was something as irrevocable as divorce.
Jess keyed in his number as she walked to her car, holding the neck of her sweater closed against a cold breeze that had blown down from the north. She had forgotten her coat in the classroom, but she didn’t feel like running back for it. There was snow in the forecast, and with the frosty edge in the air, Jess could believe it. She swung into the driver’s seat and groped for her keys, her breath making lacy patterns in the still car.
Evan’s phone rang four times and then went straight to voice mail. She didn’t leave a message.
Auburn Family Medicine was still in her contacts, and Jess hit the call icon with more than a little trepidation. She and Evan were more or less on cordial terms, but she couldn’t say the same about her relationship with his nurse, Caitlyn Wilson. In fact, Cate was one of the biggest reasons she had kicked Evan out of the house all those months ago. He swore that nothing had ever or would ever happen between him and the pretty redhead who worked long hours with him, but he had come home smelling of perfume on more than one occasion. Their counselor said Jess had to make a conscious, intentional choice to trust Evan, to believe that he was telling the truth, but there was a tiny part of her that just couldn’t quite do it.
“Hello, Auburn Family Medicine. How may I help you?”
It wasn’t Caitlyn on the other end of the line, but that wasn’t surprising. The nurses only answered the phone if the secretary was busy and they had a free hand. More often than not it rang through to an automated answering system. Jess held the phone a little tighter and angled the heater vent so that the paltry warmth would blow directly on her as she trembled in the chilly air. “It’s Jessica Chamberlain. Dr. Chamberlain’s wife?” She didn’t mean to make it sound like a question, but the tacit understanding that their relationship was complicated only made her feel more flustered. “Is Evan with a patient right now? I need to speak with him.”
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Chamberlain, but Dr. C. isn’t here. He hasn’t been in since Wednesday.”
“Excuse me?” Jess’s head spun. “What about Cate? Can I speak to Cate, please?”
“She’s not here either. Should I take a message?”
Jessica hung up.
She sat in the car, hands choking the steering wheel as she stared out the windshield at the long shadows of the late afternoon. Evan was gone. Caitlyn was gone.
It could only mean one thing.
Jess felt a surge of adrenaline. It burned like lava in her chest and all the way to her fingertips, which she realized were trembling where they clutched the wheel. She forced herself to release her death grip and shook out her hands until they were hot with blood flow.
Of course, she thought to herself. Of course.
“It’s not what you think,” she said, trying to convince herself that she was being paranoid. But deep in her heart she believed it was true. If Evan and Caitlyn were both gone, it only made sense that they were gone together.
* * *
June 2013
Dear LaShonna,
It’s crazy to think that it has been a year since you wrote your letter and over a year since Gabe was born. In case you don’t already know, that’s what we named him: Gabriel Allen. Maybe if we would have known that your surname was Tate, we would have worked that into his name, but he’s our Gabe now and we would never want to change that.
I called our caseworker and was told that we get to set the rules about how this plays out. When we signed on for a closed adoption, we knew that we would be in the dark about how you received information (if you received any at all), but I didn’t really expect you to write. I can’t tell you what it meant to me to read your note and learn just a bit about who you are. I would like to stay in contact if you are open to the idea.
Gabe is an incredible little boy. I’m enclosing a picture of him in the baby swing in our backyard. At thirteen months he crawls all over the house and keeps us hopping. He isn’t walking yet, but he pulls up on everything, and he babbles nonstop. He has a big brother who he adores, and a stuffed blue elephant that he must have within arms’ reach at all times. We could not possibly love him more. And yes, I give him bubble baths with rubber duckies (we have four) and my wife bakes the most delicious chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever tasted. Gabe agrees.
Jessica took some time off work to stay home with Gabriel, and her twelve-week maternity leave turned into a year. Gabe is a wonder, and Jess is happy being a full-time mom right now, so I’m not sure if she’ll go back to teaching or not. And of course you know that I am a family practitioner. I suppose you could say that Gabe is in good hands. Max, our other son, is in first grade and loves all things football and Harry Potter. I’ve read him the first book but will wait until he’s older to read more.
I guess that’s it for now. I realize you chose our family, so you know some things about us, but since you were so forthcoming with your name, I want you to know that we are the Chamberlains. However, please don’t try to contact us directly or reach out thinking that we want to change the status of our adoption. We don’t. I’m sure you can understand that my wife is happy with the way things are right now, and we wouldn’t want to upset the balance of our home or life. Maybe someday. For now, thank you.
Evan Chamberlain
Elena M.
22, Latina, HS diploma
Long dreads, brown eyes, tall, broad shouldered. Nonverbal, recovering addict.
Family uninvolved.
UPF, 43m, 21w
CHAPTER 3
MAX WAS SULLEN as they pulled into line at the McDonald’s drive-through. He sat in the front seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his face angled toward the passenger window, away from Jessica. She could see him scowling in the inky reflection.
“You want a Big Mac?” Jess asked for the second time. He hadn’t answered the first.
“I want a Happy Meal with nuggets!” Gabe called from his booster seat in the back.
“I know that, honey. I need to know what Max wants.”
“Fine.” The word was barely audible, but Jess didn’t have time to demand manners. It was her turn to shout their order into the microphone.
When she had passed out the food and Gabe was contentedly flying a plastic Superman around the backseat while ignoring his chicken nuggets, Jess tried again. “I know you wanted Dad to pick you up tonight.” She handed Max the straw that had dropped into her lap when the paper bags were passed through the window.
He grunted noncommittally. But Jess could tell that he was hurt, cut to the bone that Evan had so carelessly abandoned his sons. Gran
ted, it was one afternoon. One slip in the almost twenty-five weeks that he had been a weekend father. All the same, she felt a surge of anger, a groundswell that carried with it all the pain and confusion and rejection that she had been harboring through the long months of their separation. She seemed to have been saving it for such a time as this.
“I don’t know where he is,” Jess said between gritted teeth, “but when I get ahold of him, I’m going to—”
“Mom.” The sharp bite of that one word pulled her up short. Max was looking at her, finally, and the shock in his eyes wasn’t the reaction she was hoping for. Was he condemning her?
“I’m mad, okay? I’m allowed to be mad.”
“This is all your fault,” Max muttered, turning his back toward her yet again. “If you hadn’t kicked him out—”
“My fault? My fault?” Jess could hardly believe her ears. “What in the world makes you think that this is my fault? I didn’t call up your father and tell him to forget to pick you up today. I didn’t abandon my family and stop showing up for my own life and—” She broke off, suddenly struck by the fact that this was the last thing her thirteen-year-old son needed to hear. What could be more emotionally scarring than enduring a bitter tirade from his dejected mother? No matter how entitled she was to be livid. She had been strong and stable since the moment she sat down across from Evan and said the words: “I think we need a break.” But Jess was human. She was allowed to be broken, too. She just wasn’t allowed to flaunt that brokenness in front of her kids.
