True

by Grace, Gwendolyn

  *****

  Four weeks ago.

  I pulled open the doors to the office building and stopped at the reception desk where Mina greeted me with her usual bubbly manner.

  “Hi, Courtney! Cute blouse.”

  I absently looked down to see that I had chosen one of my favorite pale pink tops, not even aware that I was wearing it, in fact, I had no recollection of even getting dressed this morning. I've been on autopilot for the past few weeks.

  “Hello Mina, um thanks. Is Alex in?” Getting right to the point and not caring to make usual small talk.

  Mina glanced over at the massive phone operation center in front of her.

  “He’s on a conference call right now. Should I send him an email to let him know that you are here?”

  I battled with indecision for a moment. Would he see me? It was one thing to barge in and speak to him right away; it was another to sit and wait.

  “Um, sure.” I replied weakly. Mina gave me a puzzled look before she typed out a quick email to Alex and hit send. After several agonizing minutes, there was a ding, indicating that he had responded back to her. Mina read the message and frowned up at me.

  “Sorry, Courtney. He says that the meeting just started and won’t be over for a couple of hours. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”

  “Oh.” I replied. Then I felt my phone buzz. I pulled it out to see that it was a text from Alex.

  Alex: Stop. Don’t bring this to my work.

  His words knocked the wind out of my lungs, and it took everything in me to not crumple into a pathetic heap on the floor. I suddenly felt like a crazy bunny boiler.

  With as much dignity as I could muster, I pasted a fake smile on my face and spoke to Mina.

  “It’s okay. He just sent me a text and told me he’d call me later.” Lie. “So much for surprising him, right?” Truth. I hoped she didn’t notice the shakiness in my voice as I willed myself not to cry.

  “Is everything alright, Courtney?” The look of sympathy she gave me was too much, all I could do was quickly nod, throw a quick wave and force myself to walk instead of run out of the office.

  “Is that agreeable to both parties?” Wade Morrison asked. Yes, Morrison. Alex’s old pothead roommate was a lawyer now. I was shocked to see him and nearly didn’t recognize him when I first stepped into the conference room. It had been at least eight or nine years since I last saw him. I knew that Alex kept in touch but never really offered updates, and I didn’t care enough to ask. His shaggy blond hair was now worn in a proper short, professional cut. He went from grungy and lazy to it should be illegal to wear that suit as well as he is. His blue eyes, however, still had a hint of lazy mischief I remembered about him, but the rest of his face said he was all business. Apparently there is no waiting period on divorce in the state of Florida and having a lawyer for a friend clearly helped Alex speed things up.

  “Mrs. Turner?” I felt my own lawyer nudge me. Dion Drake was an older African-American man who I connected with instantly after consulting with a few attorneys. I always thought if I ever got divorced that I would pick a real ball-buster for a lawyer but what sold me on Dion was his kindness. I could see compassion in his eyes when he smiled at me as I told him my story. No judgment, just the willingness to help get me through it. I realized that I needed that. It was a welcome change from the looks of disappointment and pity I have been getting from my friends and family lately.

  “Yes. I agree.” I quickly answer. Honestly, I couldn’t care less about any of the crap we’ve accumulated over the years as long as I had a home for the girls and financial support to help me provide for them. Morrison checks off a few items on the list in front of him.

  “Now, the matter of custody.” My head snaps up immediately. “Mr. Turner has proposed a weekly rotation schedule. He retrieves the children from Mrs. Turner’s home at five in the afternoon on Fridays and Mrs. Turner retrieves them from Mr. Turner’s residence at five in the afternoon the following Friday and so on.”

  “What? Wait,” I finally speak up, “Alex travels for work a lot. Who will look after the girls during the time he’s away?”

  Morrison and Alex exchanged glances.

  “Mr. Turner has accepted another position within his company that no longer requires travel.” I let my gaze travel to Alex’s face in disbelief. For years, he’s known how much I hated that he had to travel, and he’d always made it seem like it was his only option. I mean, shit, it’s part of the reason for our marital problems. And now, he manages to secure a position where he doesn’t have to travel.

  Unfuckingbelievable!

  Alex’s face reddens and he presses his lips together, that’s when I realize I just said all that out loud.

  “Alex don’t do this. Don’t make them sleep away from their home. Please. You can see them anytime you want.”

  “You are damn lucky I am letting them stay with you at all and not asking for full physical custody.” He growls as he leans forward across the table glaring at me. I gasp, clearly gutted by his words.

  “I am a good mother!” I shout back at him.

  “Please, Mrs. and Mr. Turner. Let’s calm down.” Dion interrupts, his smooth baritone voice cutting through the heated discussion loud enough to stop us from continuing. His warm chocolate eyes soften as he turns to me and whispers. “It’s reasonable. You should consider it. It is no longer a given that children will go with the mother. Do what’s best for your girls. Don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

  I knew he was right. I knew Alex loved the girls and how much they loved him back. I didn’t want to be away from them for a whole week, but I knew Alex didn't want to be away from them either. And really, why should they go with me? I’m a cheater and a liar. Could he make a case against me? Prove me unfit? Could I lose my girls completely? I chew my lip for several moments, contemplating. Ultimately, I decide to accept the custody terms.

  We spend the remainder of the time going over the decree and signing paperwork. I numbly scribbled my name everywhere that Dion pointed. Later, I found myself alone in the elevator with Alex after the meeting. I pushed myself back into the corner and stared at his back. His head was directed forward, jaw clenching and releasing. I promised myself that I wouldn’t cause a scene or even speak to him, but I heard a small and desperate voice coming from my mouth.

  “Please. Please don’t do this to us.”

  The elevator door opens, and Alex continues to stand with his back to me, hesitating to exit, and then as if remembering himself he swiftly walks away from our marriage. Away from us.

  PART 2

  Chapter Nineteen

  Week 1 of divorce.

  “Crap.” I mumble to myself as I stare at the blue screen in front of me. How hard is it to figure out this stupid TV? It seems like the more buttons I press, the worse it gets. Why do we need a television with all these fancy gadgets? On, off, change channels. That’s all you need. Ugh.

  “Call Daddy.” Liv suggests from behind me as if it was the most obvious solution in the world. The constant soreness in my chest becomes a little more painful. I know I can’t call Alex for things like this anymore. I have to figure it out on my own.

  I’m on my own.

  So this is what divorce feels like. FML

  Somehow I manage to get the DVD player working and tell the girls their only option is to watch movies in the living room. I mean we don’t need to watch cable TV in here anyway, right? That seems to work for the rest of the week until Alex comes to pick up the girls on Friday.

  “Daddy, will you fix the TV. It’s stuck.” That was Jordyn, apparently helping me out. Wordlessly, he picks up the remote, presses two buttons and ding. Done.

  Week 3 of divorce.

  Alex and I no longer see each other during drop offs. He pulls up outside, and I send the girls to his car. He does the same for me in return. We communicate strictly through short texts messages.

  He also rented a two bedroom duplex house a few blocks ove
r.

  It also just seems to get more real with each passing minute.

  Week 7 of divorce.

  “You fucking fuckity assface! Move your piece of shit!” I flip the bird in rage as I maneuver my car around the dickhead blocking the intersection.

  “Mama! Don’t say that.” This comes from Jordyn, who is scolding me from the back seat.

  Yeah, so I’ve developed an extreme potty mouth. I’m not exactly sure why but for some reason it feels good to swear like a sailor. I’ve moved past hoping that things would get better with Alex, and now I’m just fucking pissed off all the time. Though, I do need to watch it in front of the girls.

  “Sorry, little rock star. Mommy will be more careful.”

  Oh, and by the way, she hasn’t outgrown the “Little” phase yet.

  Week 8 of divorce.

  Justin is being a pain in my ass. He’s become very difficult to work with. I can never get in touch with him. I almost wish he would come into the office and be a jerk to me. Anything is better than being completely ignored. I need his receipts and invoices for this month and all my emails to him have gone unanswered. I know that Cole is aware of what's happened, although he’s never spoken to me about it. He’s Alex’s best friend so of course he knows everything. Just like DeeDee, Cole has tried his best to remain neutral but I know he’s angry at me for hurting his friend. He’s just too nice to say anything.

  As much as I don’t want to feel this way, I am a little worried about Justin. I am even tempted to go and check on him, but I have no idea where he lives. In fact, I don’t really know anything about this man. The person I ruined my marriage over. The reason I don’t know anything is because I’m selfish, and the only person I ever thought about was me.

  Week 9 of divorce.

  “Mama, is Daddy going to come to live at our house soon?”

  “No, baby.”

  “Is that why you are sad?”

  I nod but can't force out the words or else I’ll lose it right here. Instead, I continue to comb through Jordyn's wet hair, focusing a little too much on the tangles. Liv is still in the bath, dunking her head under the water with her snorkel mask.

  “Is that why Daddy is sad, too?” Wait, what?

  “Um, I guess so.” I begin to braid her hair into a long ponytail as I process this bit of information. Is Alex suffering as well? Every time I see him, he behaves like my very presence is annoying to him. That hurts even more than seeing him upset. The idea that he could be over me so fast is painful.

  The guilt I also feel about having done this to my children is so overwhelming. Our home is broken and no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to fix it.

  Week 12 of divorce.

  Justin mailed everything in I had requested. Mailed, not brought in. Cole also told me that E & Company no longer has a contract with Rich Construction. Great, this just adds another thing for me to feel guilty about. I decide that enough was enough, so I sent Justin a text message.

  Me: How are you?

  Several hours go by without an answer. Just as I am about to leave the office for the day, I heard my phone chime.

  Justin: I’ve been better. You?

  Me: I’m dealing with everything. I’m really sorry that I hurt you. Please don’t disappear.

  Justin: I need to distance myself. It is painful to know that you are in this world and not with me.

  Me: If I had met you at a different time in my life, I know you would have made me very happy. I don’t think I deserve anything good for myself right now.

  Justin: You deserve happiness and so much more, gorgeous. When you are ready to accept it, I’ll be here to give all those things to you.

  I don’t respond because the tears falling from my eyes have made it difficult to see. I should never have let things go as far as they did with Justin. As I sit in my car and cry my eyes out I think about the mess I’ve made of my life and the two men I have hurt in the process.

  Week 14 of divorce.

  I’m drunk. The girls are with Alex this weekend, and I feel lonely. I called Dee to ask her to come over, but Jack has a fever so of course she can’t leave him.

  I call Macy, but she’s having a date night with Judd.

  I decide to turn on the radio and party by myself for a while. I sing Chandelier by Sia at the top of my lungs. Press skip on “Happy” by Pharell, because fuck that happy shit. I feel the burn with some Daft Punk. Then lie on the living room floor rubbing my thumb over the beautiful A&C pendant Alex gave me for Christmas and cried for a while as I listened to “All of the Stars” by Ed Sheeran. Such a damn good movie!

  The clock on the wall says 1am and I'm feeling restless. I want to do something. I want to go out. I want to feel better. Feel something other than sadness.

  I want Alex.

  The next thing I know I am walking down the sidewalk that leads to his house. I am knocking on the door. I am standing there staring back at a sexy sleep tousled Alex. I am throwing my arms and legs around and kissing him. Mmm, I forgot how delicious he tasted. How good he smelled. How he...wait, he’s kissing me back. He’s pushing me against the wall. His hands are moving inside my shirt and cupping my breasts. I am crying out against his mouth and grinding myself against his hardening cock.

  I should stop this. I should stop this. Why did I come over here? Why am I moving? He’s carrying me and placing me down on something soft. A bed. His bed. I shouldn’t be here. I must get up. My body is betraying my brain.

  Suddenly Alex and I are all entangled limbs, tongues and moans. So hot. We are naked, and he’s pushing inside of me. God, it feels so good. So fucking good. His movements are unhurried, the way he's working his hips against me slowly is divine torture. I want this to last forever. Wrapping my legs higher around his waist allows him to slide in even deeper. Yes, just where I need him.

  There are no words between us. Just heavy breathing and the sounds of slick wetness our bodies are creating together. He flips me over and re-enters me from behind, and I am so close. Alex is firmly holding my hip as he pulls me against him in a hard steady rhythm while he traces my spine with the other hand before gently grabbing me by the back of the neck. Both hands are now moving me the way he wants. He circles his hips a few times, his hard hot cock touching every part of my inner walls. Fuck. And I’m done, coming hard around him as I cry out into the pillow. Somewhere in my haze of bliss full sensation, I feel him speed up his thrusts, his breathing turns ragged and I turn my face to look at him. I love to watch his face when he comes. The way his brown eyes grow so dark they are nearly black. How his cheeks flush just as he begins to grunt out his release. I savor the feel of him. He pulls out and collapses on the bed beside me. We lay there trying to steady our breathing.

  “Are you okay?” Alex asks as he lifts up on one elbow to look at me.

  “Um, yeah. That was, well...really good.” I answer shyly. He lets out a low chuckle.

  “Thanks but I mean are you OK?” I know instantly what he means. I contemplate my answer and settle for “No.”

  He’s quiet for a moment before he replies, “Me either.” He then pulls me close to him, and I settle into the crook of his arm. Soon we are both asleep.

  I wake up just in time to slip out of his house before the girls wake up. No need to confuse them. Hell, I’m not even sure what happened between us and what last night was. We didn’t talk about anything but at least he wasn't being mean to me. I decided to just go with it and try not to define things right now.

  For the first time in months, I started to feel almost like myself. My heart didn’t feel as heavy. I know that it was probably a means of release to Alex. Just us, fucking. I didn’t care. I was happy to have him anyway I could so long as he never looks at me with hurt in his gaze. I’ll take anger any day, it’s when he’s wearing his crushed soul in his eyes that makes me want to dig a hole and crawl into it forever. So yeah, just fucking is a good thing.

  Chapter Twenty

  Week 18 of divorce.


  Not much has changed between Alex and me. We continue our weekly custody rotation and communicate strictly through text. I get an occasional wave from him as he is backing out of the driveway after dropping off the girls, which is new. He still never gets out of the car though.

  Oddly, after that night at his house, I begin to feel relief. The hardest part about the divorce besides the fact of losing him completely was the idea that he hated me, too. That night confirmed what I always knew to be true. Love was never a problem between us. It was everything else.

  Week 24 of divorce.

  I am tugging the trash cans to the curb. A chore I’ve always hated. Just as I am getting them into the right positions, movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. My mouth immediately goes dry as I watch Alex jogging down the sidewalk on the other side of the street. I knew that he worked out in the mornings and sometimes went for a run but I’ve never noticed him before today, partly because I am scrambling to get the girls out of the door in the morning and don’t notice it’s trash day until I see that the rest of the neighborhood has put their cans out. His dark gray t-shirt is soaked with sweat, his muscular thighs bulging under a pair of black running shorts and an armband clinging to his hard bicep holding his ipod. God, he is a sexy sight. Suddenly his head turns in my direction as if he’d just realized where he was and met my eyes for a moment, before giving me a chin nod and a grin.

  Who crushes on their ex-husband?