I Don't Regret You

by Larson, Jodie

  An evil smile tips his lips. “I’m like a five-year-old. Everything gets mixed up.”

  I hold my hand over my mouth. “Gross.”

  He laughs, and once again, things are right.

  We swap horror stories of food disasters. He tells me about his first attempt at professional cooking, which ended up with him covered in marinara sauce and shrimp, while I tell him about the time I burnt a frozen pizza and almost caught the kitchen on fire because I forgot to take the cardboard piece out from underneath it.

  All the while, I can’t stop smiling. He doesn’t judge me like everyone else. Sure, I’m quirky and need things done a certain way, but he doesn’t highlight it. Not like Mike. He couldn’t stand my idiosyncrasies or made fun of me until I wanted to cry. Henry’s different. It’s like he genuinely wants to know me. Everything that happened earlier today is forgotten. There’s no Mike, no looming uncertainty of our marriage. Just me and Henry, laughing and joking about our flaws and shortcomings, trying to outdo the other just for a laugh.

  When we finally decide to look at the clock, it’s one a.m. “Geez, where did the night go?” I say with a yawn.

  He shrugs. “It’s easy to lose track of time when you’re having fun.”

  We slide off our stools and gather our stuff together. Henry walks me out the door, locking up behind us. A little prick of hope blossoms in my chest as he follows me to the car.

  “Thanks for the fun night,” I say, chewing on my bottom lip.

  He smiles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, we’ll have to do it again sometime.”

  I nod. “Definitely.”

  I go to open my door, but Henry beats me to it. Ever the gentleman. He even closes the door once my seatbelt is secured. And as I drive away, I can’t help looking in the rearview mirror at his retreating form, still standing next to his car, never taking his eyes off me.

  Even after everything, today was a good day.

  It’s been a week, and Mike still hasn’t come home. That’s not entirely true. He stopped by at some point yesterday to grab the rest of his things. Half of the closet was bare and all his drawers were sticking out, showing they’ve been emptied as well.

  And yet, all I can do is sit around and feel sorry for myself. In my heart, I know this is for the best. But how could anyone pack up and leave without looking back? Doesn’t he miss the kids? I can live with the fact that he doesn’t want me anymore, but to not want the kids is abhorrent. They’re innocent in this matter. All they want is unconditional love.

  “Where’s Dad? Did he have another bowling thing?” Cassie’s nonchalance of the question catches me off guard as the pot I’m washing slips out of my hands, splashing water over the sides of the sink.

  Grabbing the drying towel, I wipe my hands off and sit next to her at the table. I run a hand over her hair, smoothing it down. “No, not bowling. Daddy’s going to be gone for a while.”

  “But he’s coming back?”

  How do I explain this to my kids when I don’t know myself? I pull her into my side and kiss the top of her head. “Everything will be fine in the end. You’ll see.”

  Jacob continues to work on his homework, not acknowledging Cassie’s question at all. He’s been very focused these last few days. Perhaps we need to talk about this.

  “Okay, Cassie, it’s shower night. Go get cleaned up.” She hops off the chair, kissing my cheek first before heading down the hallway. I switch chairs so I’m next to Jacob, who’s still working on his math problem.

  “Hey,” I say tentatively. “You okay?”

  He shrugs. “Fine.”

  There’s a word I know all too well. Fine is always code for not fine.

  “You know you can talk to me, right?”

  Only a nod is my answer. This won’t do. I can’t have him brooding in his head. If he’s anything like me, it’s not a good thing. I turn his chin so he’s facing me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Jacob sets the pencil down and sighs. “I feel bad.”

  “Why?”

  He stares at me for a long minute before his bottom lip quivers. “Because I’m glad he’s gone.”

  Oh, my poor, sweet boy. I press my palm to his cheek. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because he was mean to us. Mostly to you.” He sniffs and wipes his nose on the back of his hand. “I know you didn’t think we heard, but I did. Every time.”

  A tear rolls down my cheek. “You weren’t supposed to know this. I tried to keep it away from you kids.”

  Jacob gives a weak smile. “We know you tried, but at night it was hard to ignore.” He places a hand over mine.

  A crack forms in my heart, opening wide, breaking for my little boy having to keep this to himself. Knowing him, he wanted to help but didn’t know how. It’s his personality. He can’t sit idly by while someone is getting hurt. He has the biggest heart of any ten-year-old I know.

  I should have stopped this sooner. All this pain trying to keep our family together may have done more damage than good. Hopefully he didn’t learn from Mike’s behaviors, that talking to a woman like he did is okay.

  No. This can’t be his reality. Or Cassie’s. She needs to know that men are not supposed to treat their wives this way.

  “I don’t want him to come back.”

  I shake my head. “I know you’re angry and hurt, but he’s still your dad.”

  “Not like he cares. All he cares about is the TV, his beer, and his friends.”

  So much anger building up inside this sweet child. I’ll make it up to him. Somehow.

  Pulling him into a hug, I press my lips against his head and say a silent prayer. “Everything will be okay. Things will work out the way they’re supposed to.” I pull back and smile, running a thumb under his eye to catch a tear. “You don’t worry about this anymore. I’ve got you.”

  The answer seems to appease him. He picks up his pencil and we work on his remaining homework while he waits for Cassie to finish in the bathroom.

  Maybe one day someone can explain to me how doing the right thing can hurt so much.

  “You look a little under the weather.” Brenda peers into my cubicle, her brows drawn together.

  “I haven’t slept much recently.” Isn’t that the understatement of the year. Two weeks have passed and not one word from Mike. I was expecting resistance, some sort of fight saying how dare I do this to him, or who did I think I was? Not silence. Words were his daggers. His swords. His weapons to make my heart bleed.

  My phone buzzes and Leslie’s bored voice filters through the receiver.

  “Some guy is up front looking for you.”

  My heart jumps at her words. Stupid organ thinks every time someone is here to surprise me, it’s Henry. It happened once, not enough to give me hope that he’ll continually do it. I excuse myself from Brenda and walk to the front lobby where a casually dressed man waits with a large manila envelope in his hand.

  “Jocelyn Wentworth?” he asks, a similar bored tone to his voice as Leslie’s.

  “That’s me.” I try to keep a straight face but curiosity is getting the better of me. Who is this guy?

  He hands me the envelope. “Here you go.”

  I gulp, feeling the air in the room get thinner. “What’s this?”

  He smirks. “No clue, lady. I just serve them.”

  Served? I turn the large envelope over. Some law firm I’ve never heard of graces the corner. Oh God, are we being sued? Quickly, I make a mental checklist of every bill we have.

  Paid.

  Paid.

  Paid.

  What could this possibly be for? I look up to see Leslie staring intently at me. If this is bad news, I don’t want an audience. Giving her a weak smile, I bolt for the bathroom, thankful to find it empty.

  The paper tears away as I slide my finger beneath the seam. I flinch as it slices a gash into my flesh. Pulling my finger into my mouth, I suck on it to stop the bleeding as I juggle to get the papers out with one hand.<
br />
  The room closes in on me, gets darker along the edges.

  McIntosh. That name I know. He’s one of the divorce lawyers I see advertised in the paper.

  Mike is filing for divorce.

  There it is, in black and white. His name in the petitioner spot; my name in the respondent. I flip through the pages, honestly not reading anything as everything blurs into one giant black blob. Without warning, a tear tracks down my cheek. Then another. And another. Soon I’m a blubbering mess while sitting on the lid of the toilet. Now I’m glad no one is occupying the other two stalls.

  Eleven years, gone with the swipe of a pen. Like we didn’t even matter.

  Swiftly wiping away as much evidence of my tears as possible, I splash some cold water on my face and walk out, trying to hold my head up high. It doesn’t work as much as I hoped it would. A thousand weights sit on my shoulders, dragging them down. I need to go home. There’s no way I can concentrate now, not with this blow.

  I walk straight to Mr. Davenport’s door, knocking twice before entering. He looks up from his computer. “What’s wrong?” Genuine concern crosses his face. I’m proud of myself for keeping it together.

  “I’m not feeling well. Would it be all right if I use a sick day?”

  Mr. Davenport looks me from head to toe. I’m not sure if he believes I’m sick, but he has to tell there’s something wrong. Even I can see it in the reflection of the window. I look haggard, worn down, and old. Very, very old.

  He must agree because he gives me a nod. “Take the rest of the day. And if you need tomorrow as well, just let me know.”

  “Thank you. I’ll let you know.” The paper crinkles as I flex my hand. The weight of the bomb inside is almost too much to carry, but I quickly exit his office and walk in a trance back to my desk, gathering up my things and shutting down my computer. Brenda tries to talk, but I hold a hand up, an apology written in my eyes. She nods, knowing I’m not ready to talk. Not yet.

  The drive home is a blur. Somehow I find myself sitting on my bed, looking at the manila envelope, feeling it burn my fingertips.

  Deep down, I knew this would happen, but seeing it in black and white is harder than I thought. The formality, the reality of how much our life will change. This is the only life we’ve known. Now we have to start over.

  Sadness slowly morphs to indifference, then finally anger. He would be the kind of asshole to do this to me while I’m at work. One last way for him to stick it to me, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stay there and face everyone.

  Exhaustion takes over as I lie down and close my eyes. But sleep doesn’t come. Instead I think about how we met. He was older and I was coming off a nasty break-up. I loved the attention, even though it wasn’t always pleasant. At first he was sweet, always kissing me or teasing me in some way. He’d take me to the movies; even kiss me under the stars when we’d travel for his softball games. It took me a while before I gave myself to him. He treated me like a coveted possession, something precious. I loved it.

  One night, we were out with his buddies playing pool. Mike was plenty drunk and mouthing off about how great I am in bed. I sat quietly next to him, trying to keep the embarrassment from showing. Someone suggested that he put a ring on me because you don’t let great pussy like that go. Apparently, Mike agreed because he dropped to one knee and proposed right there in the middle of the bar. I couldn’t keep the shock off my face. No one had ever wanted to marry me before. I said yes without another thought. His friends bought a round and the rest of the night was a blur.

  The wedding was quick, just our family and few friends at a small church in my hometown. Within a few months, Jacob was conceived, permanently binding us together. Pride and joy swelled in my chest. Mike was nervous when he first held him in his arms. I don’t think he’d ever held a baby before then. Now, looking back, it wasn’t often he was holding him after that initial time.

  Then came Cassie, our little surprise. No one aims to have two kids less than a year and a half apart. Mike was so needy and I wanted to make him happy, so I gave in every time he wanted sex. One night we weren’t careful. And I had read that it was harder to get pregnant while breastfeeding, so I didn’t think anything of it. I hadn’t had time to talk to my doctor about getting back on birth control, mainly because Jacob was so small. Then two little lines showed up on the stick. After the initial shock, I was over-the-moon excited. Mike left and went out with his friends.

  Every school function, I remember being alone, sitting next to an empty seat that never got filled. Kindergarten graduation, Christmas plays, Veteran’s Day programs, even the Halloween parade. I was always there. Alone.

  I open my eyes and stare at the wall. Sad realization hits. I’ve been alone in this marriage the whole time. These papers are just the finality of what I’ve already known.

  We’re not a couple anymore. More like two strangers cohabitating together because it’s what’s done.

  I need my mom.

  Picking up my phone, I quickly dial her number, blowing out a few quick breaths as I wait for her to answer.

  “Jocelyn?” Her surprised voice breaks through and I lose it.

  “Mom.” I can’t stop the onslaught of tears, flowing freely now down my face. All the anger and frustration I’ve wanted to voice over the last few years comes to a head as she tries to quiet me over the phone.

  “Sweetie, what’s the matter?”

  A few gasping sobs escape before I get a grip on myself. Closing my eyes, I pull it together. “Mike’s gone.”

  “What? When?”

  “I threw him out two weeks ago.”

  “And you’re just now telling me this?” Pain is evident in her voice.

  “He filed for divorce. I got the papers today at work.”

  A cupboard slams in the background. “He did what? The nerve of him, doing that to you while you’re working. I knew there was something not right about him.”

  I want to laugh, but it’s not as funny as I thought it would be. She did warn me. And I didn’t listen.

  “Yeah, so I’m home now.”

  “And feeling sad?”

  I shrug. “Not really feeling anything right now. I’m just sort of…here.”

  Movement floats over the phone and I picture her gliding out of the kitchen to her favorite chair in the living room, the one that overlooks her garden in the backyard.

  “It’s a surprise, but you’ll be okay. Everything will be fine.”

  I wipe my nose with my sleeve. “Things haven’t been good lately, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Yet, I am.”

  “You’re a dreamer, Joss. Just like your father. You have this belief that everything is good and will work out as you plan in your head.”

  “Is that so wrong?”

  “No, my dear.” She tsks and sighs. “Unfortunately, that means you set yourself up to fall harder when things go wrong.”

  “And what if I don’t know how to pick myself back up?” A lone tear slips from my eye.

  “Then you’ll learn how.” Her warm voice is like a hug to my broken soul. She waits a beat before speaking again. “Your dad has a few lawyer friends. Let us reach out to them, see what we can do.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that.”

  “I know we don’t have to.” She won’t listen. I know her too well.

  We talk about Thanksgiving plans, which I need to adjust since it’ll just be the three of us. Mom says they can come up here to help, but I tell her no. I don’t want to drag my parents away from their life to come fix mine.

  Like she said, I have to learn how to pick myself up.

  Mom was right. After a couple nights of crying myself to sleep, I realized there was no point in the matter. Crying wasn’t going to bring him back–not that I wanted him back anyway. Anyone who can walk away from his family and not look back isn’t someone I want in my life. Not anymore.

  Not to mention I need someone who treats me better, one who values my opinion and doesn’t knock me dow
n because of it.

  Do men like that exist?

  My mind flitters to Henry and a slow smile creases my lips. In the short time we’ve been hanging out, he’s like that. I’ve never seen him cross, not menacingly, but constructively toward his staff. And the way he treats his kids, it’s like he’s always with them. He never misses an event or function. He’s how a dad is supposed to act.

  Let’s face it. Seeing a guy interact with his kids is downright sexy.

  Dad called a few of his friends, knowing some of their kids are lawyers now. He wants me to get the best so Mike doesn’t try to run me over. Paying for a lawyer was the cause of my last breakdown. I make enough right now to keep us afloat, but it doesn’t leave much after. And since Mike refuses to answer any of my calls, I’m doing this on my own. For now.

  Cassie crawls onto my lap, her little arms wrapping around my neck. “Can we do something fun tonight?”

  I glance up at the clock. It’s too late to go out for a walk–not to mention too cold–and most places are only open for another hour or so. But the kids are on Thanksgiving break from school. It’s been one day and they’re already crawling up the walls with boredom. I had enough vacation built up so I could take the rest of the week off, besides the two days I get paid for the holiday.

  “Yeah, Mom. Let’s do something.” Jacob looks over from his book, setting it in his lap with a flourish.

  Not that I can blame them. We spent the day going through our drawers to prep for the upcoming winter. Several bags were loaded for Goodwill, which made them both happy. Less they had to put away. I was happy for the obvious: less laundry to do.

  After all their hard work, I should reward them. And we can sleep in tomorrow if we wanted.

  I tap my lips and smile. “How about a movie? You two have been bugging me for weeks to go there. Let’s go tonight.”

  “Really?” they say in unison, practically pouncing on me from excitement. It’s been a while since I’ve seen those smiles. Now I know I’ve done the right thing.