by Portia Moore
Well, that’s not completely true. If I really do end up broken, they’ll have to deal with that fallout.
I push myself up from the bed and head down to the living room. Raven’s sitting on the sofa reading a book while Caylen’s on the floor playing with her toys. I steal a quick kiss from her and before I leave I double back and kiss Raven on the cheek. She looks at me surprised. “I love you. I understand that you only want what’s best for me.” She smiles warmly at me and squeezes my shoulder.
“I’ll only be about an hour,” I say as I head out of the door.
After the gym, a long shower, and Chinese food, Raven and Caylen are both asleep. It’s only 7:45 p.m. I think that what we ordered contributed to Raven’s early nap. Caylen is usually asleep about this time. I clean up the last of her toys scattered around the floor and my heart skips a beat when I hear my phone buzz. It’s my favorite ringtone.
His ringtone.
I quickly finish putting Caylen’s toys in the bin and turn off the television. I grab my phone, head to my room, and flop on my bed. I don’t look at it until I’m good and comfortable.
How are you guys?
It’s very wrong that his texts are something I look forward to now. It’s been two weeks since we were with him. He sends them in the morning and usually around four. We started Skyping the day after I got home. I think it’s helped ease the awkwardness of the whole situation. It’s never long, only about five to ten minutes. It’s usually him talking to Caylen and me answering him about her day.
We talk through Caylen.
But I look forward to the texts more than the Skyping. They’re specifically for me. Well not really. Things like this make me feel pathetic. He didn’t say “how are my girls” or ask about me in particular, but it still makes my day.
I think about the conversation I had with Raven earlier. She’s right. God she’s right. Still I can’t shake the tingling feeling shooting up my neck or the way my day seems to start to feel better when I get these simple texts. How did I end up like this? I know there are so many reasons I shouldn’t feel like this. Why I shouldn’t let myself feel like this about them. But not one of those reasons stops the feelings that wrap around me like chains. Chains I want, but that I need to get rid of. I take a deep breath and quickly text back:
Caylen’s great
Short, direct, and to the point. Well, the smiley face was to let him know I wasn’t being a bitch. I want to ask him how his day was. What he did, if he thought about me, but of course I don’t ask any of those things. I grab my pillow and pull it closer to me. I think about how Cal and I used to text when we first got together. They weren’t like this though. Cal’s would start off cordially enough and would end with how good he was with his tongue and all the places he wanted to put it. Not much later he’d be at my door to show me. Then when things got bad his texts made me want to break my phone as a substitute for his face. My phone alert goes off again. It’s one word.
Good.
I roll my eyes. I scold myself for being disappointed. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but the one-word reply was annoying with Cal. It’s no better with Chris but Chris should only be sending me one-word replies. He has a fiancé who gets the long replies, who gets the smile when she texts him. Those aren’t meant for me. I’m just his wife, after all. A little voice inside me tells me that title is on borrowed time. I rummage through my bed to find the television remote. There was never a TV in our bedroom when Cal was here. He said the bedroom was meant for two things, sleeping or getting put to sleep. Now the only thing that usually puts me to sleep is a Property Brothers marathon or a season of Real Housewives.
I watch about half an episode before falling asleep and the alert goes off again. I grab it and a smile creeps across my face when I see it.
How are you?
I type back thinking of you and immediately erase it. He wants to know how I’m doing. That’s a first for us. A good sign, right? Or maybe he’s just being polite.
Had a good day. Nick Jr., gym, good Chinese food. What more can a girl ask for ;)
I send it and think that it was too much. Ugh. I feel like I’m in high school, overanalyzing a simple sentence. Then my alert goes off again.
One to ten. How good was the Chinese food?
I laugh at that, remembering how much he ate while I was with him last time. I quickly type:
You sure you want to know?
UGH That GOOD Huh?
LOL. Yes. THAT Good.
Our Chinese food sucks here :(
I roll over on my stomach and glance at the mirror, seeing a goofy smile on my face. I haven’t seen that smile in a while. I get butterflies in my stomach when the message goes off again.
Are you busy?
I wonder why he asks that?
He’s probably about to call.
No he’s not going to call me. He knows Caylen’s sleep now. Or maybe he doesn’t. Before I get hopelessly optimistic, I decide to avoid the disappointment.
Caylen’s asleep right now.
A few moments’ pass and I’m disappointed when my alert doesn’t go off. He was texting so quickly before. I lay my head on the pillow and feel myself pouting when my door bursts open. I almost jump out of my skin.
“What’s up, hun!” It’s Hillary. Of course it is. She barges through closed doors like no one else can.
“What’s wrong? You look like you lost your best friend.” She chuckles before flopping on my bed across from me. “And that can’t be true since I’m right here,” she says, slapping me on the butt.
“Waiting on Garret again?” I tease.
“Of course. You know I need my evening cardio.” She giggles. Hillary is one of the only women I know who manages to meet a guy wherever she goes. I’d been going to my gym four days a week for the past year and never saw Garett. The day she goes, he turns out to be a new fitness trainer, tall, attractive, muscular and athletic. Hillary spotted him the moment he walked in.
“God, your bed is so amazing,” she says in an exaggerated tone.
“He’s going to get fired if they catch you guys,” I laugh.
“Don’t be a hater, Lauren. I told you, you could borrow him if you want,” she says, nudging me.
“No thanks.” I roll my eyes at her.
“I can’t believe this bed isn’t getting any action. You should let us borrow this,” she says, rolling on her stomach and lifting her wiggling butt in the air.
“Eww, Hillary you’re disgusting” I say, attempting to push her out of my bed. My phone rings. My heart skips a beat when I see it’s Chris. He’s calling! I glance over at Hillary, who’s eyeing me suspiciously.
“Are you going to get that?” She chuckles. I cannot answer while Hillary’s here. She looks at me suspiciously.
“Oh, I’ve got to see whose call can get that look on your face,” she teases. We both reach for my phone and she gets to it first. She frowns immediately.
“Oh, Lauren. NOO,” she says. I jump off the bed to retrieve my phone but she puts it behind her back.
“Hillary, give me my phone and a little privacy,” I demand.
“Isn’t he still with that girl?” she says pointedly.
“He’s Caylen’s dad. What does that have to do with anything?”
“He’s calling to talk to you about Caylen?” she says sarcastically.
“I don’t know because I haven’t answered the phone. Give it to me.” I grab her arm and force the phone out of her hand. It’s stopped ringing.
“Don’t do this to yourself, Lauren,” she says, whining.
“Do what? What am I doing?!”I say, throwing my hands up, exasperated. She shakes her head and folds her arms, eerily similar to Raven this morning.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. What happened to moving on, leaving the past in the past? Just having a relationship for Caylen?”
“Who says I’m not doing that?!” I laugh in disbelief. I know I’m not but they don’t know I’m not.
“Your face says it all!” I can’t be that easy to read.
“Hun. Don’t do this. I see this going so badly, and you know, if anyone knows disaster waiting to happen, it’s me,” she says, pointing to herself. I roll my eyes.
“I just want to be his friend. Can I at least be his friend?” I say defensively. Hillary sighs.
“Friends, Lauren? Really? What are you going to do, be his best man at his wedding after he divorces you and marries that other chick?” I feel my breath catch in my throat and Hillary looks down at her feet guiltily.
“Okay that was harsh.” She steps towards me and I step back. I feel tears in my eyes and my jaw stiffens.
“You know what, Hillary, you screw a lot of guys—a whole lot of fucking guys. And you know what I think? I think it’s stupid and dangerous and you deserve better!” I spit back at her. Her eyes narrow in on mine.
“Say what you want but I’m happy with my life. I know exactly what I want from the men that I choose to deal with. I don’t have any secret agendas or unrealistic expectations. When things don’t work out for me it doesn’t break me. That’s the difference between us. If I fuck five guys tonight and they don’t call me, I don’t give a flying fuck. I won’t shut down. It won’t immobilize me. If this goes wrong, can you say the same thing?” She walks to my door and turns around before she leaves.
“And FYI, what I tell you is because I care. Because you’re my best friend, not to be a bitch to you when you’re saying something I don’t want to hear,” she says quietly before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. I sit down on my bed and look at the missed call. The text alert goes off again. It’s Chris. I suddenly don’t feel as excited to get his text messages anymore.
Chapter 33
Chris
She hasn’t responded. She didn’t pick up her phone when I called either. She always responds right away whenever I text her. Usually I'm asking about Caylen or to see if our Skype time is okay. This was different though. This time I wanted to talk to her. We haven’t really talked since they’ve been gone these past two weeks. Well, when we Skype, we talk, but it’s pretty much about Caylen. Still, I watch her, how she is with Caylen, how much she loves her. I notice the way she smiles, how her hair falls in her face, the little giggle she does. Even though she’s usually just wearing sweats or a t-shirt with a ponytail, she’s beautiful.
I try to push thoughts like that out of my head. Every time they come, I tell myself how beautiful my fiancée is, how much I love Jenna. I tell myself that this is just curiosity or infatuation with Lauren and it’s shallow, artificial and could ruin everything if it gets misinterpreted—if I misinterpret it.
I remind myself of the line that’s between Lauren and me. The one that’s there for a reason. That still didn’t stop me from texting her even when I knew Caylen was asleep. Or calling her to hear her voice. I don’t know why or where this is coming from but I know it needs to stop.
I’m supposed to see Jenna tomorrow. It will be the first time since all of this started. She stayed in Lansing for school. She’s coming up for the weekend. She sent me a text and wants to meet once she gets back tomorrow. I hope seeing her will clear my head of all this confusion and get me back on track.
Lauren hasn’t called me back. I know there are plenty of reasons as to why. Maybe she fell asleep, or Caylen woke up, or she just doesn’t want to talk to me. I should call her again just to make sure she’s okay. I stand up and let out a deep breath. I shouldn’t call her. We have nothing to talk about if it’s not about Caylen.
But really, we have everything to talk about since we really don’t know anything about each other. As parents, we should get to know each other. We should be friends. Being my daughter’s mom’s friend is okay, perfectly acceptable.
Yup, I’m calling.
I hit her name on my phone and hear the ringing tone again. It rings about four times and I’m about to hang up when it stops.
“Hey.” Her voice is little above a whisper and flat. She sounds tired or sad, not what I was expecting from the tone of our last text.
“Is everything okay?” I ask concerned.
“Yeah, everything’s fine” she says, letting out a small sigh.
“Chinese food not turning your stomach, is it?” I decide to joke and she lets out a laugh. It makes me smile.
“I hate to tell you, but my stomach is the most satisfied part on me,” she kids back. She’s funny.
“Caylen tire you out?” I ask, feeling a little more relaxed since she seems to be in better spirits. I sit on my bed and rest my elbow on my knee.
“Not really. My aunt Raven’s here today. I was able to get a little R&R,” she says, and I can tell from her tone that something’s bothering her.
“Then what’s wrong?” I ask her, and she’s quiet.
“What makes you think something’s wrong?” she asks after a second. I shrug, even though she can’t see it.
“It doesn’t take a genius.” I laugh to lessen the tension.
“I got into a fight with my best friend,” she says hesitantly.
“A bad one?” I guess.
“Yeah. I said something I really shouldn’t have and I feel like a huge puppy kicker.” She sighs and I laugh.
“Are you laughing at me?” she asks, surprised.
“Puppy kicker?” I chuckle, and she pauses and then giggles.
It’s cute.
“Oh yeah. I’m sorry. Sometimes I drift into the code words I trained myself to use around Caylen. Before her, I had quite the potty mouth,” she explains, her voice is light and she sounds almost like herself again.
“What’s ‘puppy kicker’ a code word for?” I ask, lying back on my bed.
“Bitch.” She chuckles.
“Really? What other codes do you have?” I say, finding myself way too interested in this.
“Uhm. Well let’s see, poo, of course, for shit. Bottom mouth for a-hole. Diaper for douche. Frick for fuck.” She pauses at the last part and a moment of awkwardness slips in.
“Well puppy kicker is definitely the most creative,” I tease her, and I can tell she’s smiling.
“You think you could do better?” she says in a challenging tone.
“Hmm lets see. Ground licker for kiss ass, tree dung for shit, the classic darn-it for damn and for fuck, frechetta,” I rattle off.
“Did you come up with these off the top of your head or do you secretly have a list or something?” she says, amidst laughter.
“Well let’s just say since I work with high schoolers and profanities are frowned upon, this isn’t the first time I’ve discussed code words.”
“Did you come up with freschetta because you love the pizza?”
“Of course,” I say.
It should be obvious.
“You are such a foodie!”
“Is that code word for fattie?” I ask sarcastically.
“No comment,” she says, covering up a laugh.
We talk about our favorite foods. Hers is any type of pasta. I tell her I’m easy. Steak and potatoes. She tells me about her best friends, Angela and Hillary. How she always wanted to go to school in the city. She loves cats but is allergic to them. If she had to live anywhere else in the world, it’d be Paris even though she’s never been. I tell her when I was younger I wanted to be a pilot. She finds it ironic that I’m afraid of heights. I joke that it’s more tragic than ironic. I tell her how even though Aidan can be a ground licker sometimes, he’s really a loyal friend. We talk about so much but avoid the obvious, like her life with Cal, how I met Jenna, how things are going to go from here, but it’s nice and it’s easy, and I don’t even realize two hours have passed until Aidan texts me and asks why I’m not downstairs.
I was supposed to meet him for a run. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten and she hadn’t either. I don’t want to get off the phone. She doesn’t seem like she wants to either but it’s probably a good idea since it’s almost ten. I say goodnight and
she tells me not to eat too much before bed. I tell her I don’t eat that much and we finally hang up. I feel good about our talk. No lines were crossed and I’m much closer to being her friend than before the conversation. I throw on my shorts and gym shoes, and run down to meet Aidan. He’s like an old guy when it comes to being on time.
“Dude what the fuck? You were supposed to meet me down here twenty minutes ago,” he says, throwing his arms in the air.
“Lost track of time,” I say simply.
“And what’s with the goofy smile on your face?” he asks, nudging me. I shove him back.
“Thinking about how I’m about to make wannabe Captain America eat my dust,” I say before taking off ahead of him.
“So you cheat now?” he calls after me.
“Who said we were racing?” I call back to him before quickening my pace and increasing our distance.
“All that training and you’re still slower than your grandma!” I taunt him. When we reach our halfway mark, we both stop to catch our breath.
“So you seem to be in a ‘just got some’ mood today,” he jokes. I frown at him.
“You make up with Jenna?” he guesses.
“No, she’s coming home tomorrow though,” I inform him.
“You’ve been spankin’ the monkey or something, then?” He laughs. I wave him off.
“You were late coming down for our run. You’re never late and you had that just-fucked smile on your face.” He chuckles.
“You’re an idiot,” I say, sitting on the ground.
