A Beautiful Mess

by Brenda S Anderson

  Pushing that . . . feeling aside, she continued mulling over the evening’s events:

  Picking up Clara at the Caldwells had gone better than she’d anticipated, especially since they’d employed the good cop, bad cop routine. Jon went in as the bad cop, and Erin told them she understood and explained her turmoil of last night was caused by learning something devastating. All true. They’d been kind in return. But Jon said they were being passive-aggressive. Had they been?

  She honestly didn’t know.

  She rocked on the swing while gazing up at the stars and the sliver of a moon. Jon had said he loved her. Proposed to her. Those thoughts kept creeping in, even making her smile. She shook her head, trying to erase them from her thoughts, but they wouldn’t stay gone.

  Maybe the real question was, how did she feel about him? She’d be lying to herself if she denied feeling something different between them than before.

  Before leaving this afternoon, Debbie had encouraged her to examine her feelings for Jon, beyond liking him as a friend. With his image at the front of her thoughts, she closed her eyes and searched deep. He was kind, intelligent, willing, no, eager to fight for her. And yes, he was good looking—he’d outgrown the geek stage and was very attractive.

  But those were all facts. What did she feel?

  She searched deep, an image of Jon at the forefront of her mind. She felt giddy. Scared. Excited. Confused. Was that normal? If only she could identify feelings like normal people did. Maybe she was mentally unstable. Maybe she was going to turn out just like her mom.

  This was where Debbie would tell her to write, so Erin lit the tiki torches on either side of the swing and opened her journal. She poured out her heart in written prayer.

  __________

  May 2, 2019

  Dear Jesus, please help me!

  The Caldwells claim I’m mentally unstable and unable to raise Clara properly. That hurts, Lord, big time. After all the years of fighting the stigma of growing up with a mom who suffered from mental illness and refused treatment, it’s come full circle.

  Debbie would tell me to examine that idea, and who better to unpack it with than you, so here goes:

  Like Mom, I’m a single parent who apparently chased off my child’s father.

  I have difficulty feeling and identifying the feelings I do have.

  Mom was overly dramatic. We were exact opposites—neither are healthy.

  Mom believed literal demons chased her and the only safe place was the bathroom. Maybe that’s where I go to hide from my inner demons. Guess that’s another thing we have in common.

  BUT . . .

  Even as a single mom, I feel I’ve done a good job with Mik. I never rarely put down Corey and Lilith around her. Yeah, Mik is having an attitude right now, but she’s thirteen, and her dad just died. I’d have an attitude, too. I guess I do.

  I seek help, where Mom refused it.

  And then Mom scared herself to death. After I moved away for college, I wasn’t around her to try to keep her sane. Her heart just couldn’t take the struggle anymore. Sure, there are times when I don’t feel sane—like last night—but I have friends who I can turn to. More importantly, I can turn to you.

  Big difference there.

  So, yeah, I get it, God. I’m like Mom in some ways, but unlike her in others. And I don’t have to be defined by who she was. In your eyes, I’m unique. If the Caldwells want to label me as mentally unstable, I’ll fight that. Besides, just because someone is mentally ill, that does not mean they’re a poor parent.

  Do you want me to fight for Clara? Would she be better off with me than the Caldwells? They love her. I think. And I don’t know how I can possibly love her. Clara deserves to be loved. As Mik said, Clara is an innocent victim in this mess, but I don’t know how to remedy that. Do you?

  On another topic, what do I do about Jon? Do you want me to take his proposal seriously? I don’t need to be rescued, but the idea of having someone to come home to at night, of having a man around to help shoulder the joys and burdens of parenting is more than appealing. I care for him, he does make me happy, and he says he loves me. But would he get bored with me as Corey did? Is it possible for me to love him back as he deserves to be loved? Will I know it if I do? My feelings are all over the place, and I can’t package them into a sane box.

  I don’t have answers to any of these questions, Lord, so I’m going to need your help once again.

  Thanks for listening!

  __________

  “You did what?” Jon’s assistant stared across the office, disbelief widening her eyes.

  He shrugged. “I asked her to marry me.”

  “And what made you think that was a good idea?” Gina stepped inside the office and closed the door.

  Another shrug. “I thought that’s what God wanted me to do.”

  “Oh, really?” She stood on the other side of his desk, glowering down at him. “Or is that just your excuse? And don’t shrug those shoulders again.”

  “I also thought it would help with the custody battle, if there is one. Having a two-parent household would work on her behalf.”

  “How noble of you.”

  “Well, she said ‘no,’ so it doesn’t matter anyway.” Jon shuffled papers on his desk to make it appear as if he were attempting to work. “For now, our goal is to get some facts to support our theory that the Caldwells are after Corey and Lilith’s assets. They both warned me not to trust her parents, but the Belinda and Charles have charmed their way into Erin’s life. When I saw them on Easter, they were too interested in the value of Corey’s artwork. Why?”

  “Greed?”

  “Could be, but my gut says it’s more than that.”

  “Aren’t you the trustee? Can’t you control what they get?”

  “Yes, and Corey and Lilith set aside funds for the guardians, but not in the amount the Caldwells are used to living on.” He drummed his fingers on his desk. “Contact Chuck Blue, have him do some nosing around.”

  Gina perched her hands on her hips. “And just who is going to pay for the private investigator?”

  “Guess that’ll have to be me.”

  “Then you make sure you don’t go broke handling this case. I like to get paid, you know. I might even like to make a trip overseas, meet up with Zax.”

  “What?” It was Jon’s turn to glare his disbelief. “You do realize, the man’s a player.”

  “I thought he was your friend.”

  “He is, but I’m also not blind to his faults. Just be careful, okay.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah.” She waved her hand. “I’ll give Chuck a call, have him check out the Caldwells, then I’m off for the weekend. You should take off soon, too.”

  “Don’t worry.” He had a date with a book back home. If the PI couldn’t find what the Caldwells’ motivation was, maybe Corey’s journal would reveal something.

  Jon finished up the brief he was working on and left the office just as the sun was touching the horizon. Far later than he intended to leave, but he’d had difficulty focusing.

  Before Erin had been thrust back into his life, focusing had not been an issue in the past.

  Twenty-five minutes later, he was navigating his gravel driveway twisting its way through a forest of white cedars and pines to his lakefront A-frame home. Compared to the other homes on the lake, it wasn’t much, but it had four bedrooms and a two-car garage, plenty of room to share with a family and the right someone.

  “What am I going to do about her?” He really had messed up with Erin, proposing as he had. Why did his brain take a vacation around her?

  He parked in the garage, went through his house, and onto the back deck overlooking the lake. Stress rolled off his shoulders and peace enveloped him as it always did on the deck, one of the reasons he’d chosen this home. In his demanding job, he needed a place to come home to and recharge.

  But today, he didn’t have time to recharge, he needed to dig into Corey’s journal, as ugly as he knew it wou
ld be. If he were a drinking man, he’d add beer to his evening. It would make digesting Corey’s thoughts a lot easier, but thanks to his father, he’d seen firsthand—actually, it was usually his dad’s left hand—what alcohol did to people, and he wanted no part of it.

  Instead, he went into the house and made himself a peanut butter and apple sandwich, added a handful of chips to the plate, and poured himself a glass of milk. He brought it out to the deck where he opened Corey’s journal to what had likely been the midway point, before Erin had yanked out pages. Now it was the beginning. Jon knew Corey’s story, and a fresh start was imminent, but he still had to slog through a bunch of mud. That was the part Jon wasn’t eager to read, but knew he had to.

  __________

  June 25, 2015

  I’m going to be a father again!

  It’s taken a bit to digest that. When Lil broke the news on Father’s Day—when I once again forgot about Erin’s plans and felt like the worst creep on earth—I was shocked. Angry. Scared to death. In just a few words, Lil turned my life upside down and inside out. I wondered, “What do I do now?”

  I’ve wanted another child for years—it just didn’t happen with me and Erin, but now with Lil . . .

  After processing the information, almost in an Erin-like way, I could only take it as I’m meant to have a new life. On Monday I made the decision Lil has been urging me to make for three months, and today I put it in action. I told my parents I was quitting at the accounting firm—Lil made enough to support us, so I could paint—and snuck out of the office without Erin seeing me. I went to the house I shared with Erin for six years to pack what I needed to move in with Lil.

  All I got in my suitcase was my underwear before I heard the side door open. I swore I was going to have a heart attack as I tried to figure out what to tell Erin. I left the suitcase in the bedroom, and hurried to the living room. She just looked at me with that stupid blank stare. I used to love trying to crack it, but now it makes me angry. Why can’t she react like a normal person?

  All she said was, “You quit.”

  How else was I supposed to respond, but with the truth? “I did.”

  “Why?”

  I told her I’d fallen in love with Lil, that we were pregnant. I was filing for divorce and moving in with Lil. Her reaction? You guessed it, no comment, just that blank stare. I thought she’d care, at least a little bit.

  So, I went back to packing. That’s when Erin came in, and I saw a side of her I’m glad I’m escaping. She’s more like her crazy mom was every day. Makes me wonder if Mik is safe with her anymore. She came in with a set of plates we’d purchased together when we got married. Just two ceramic dinner plates. That’s all we could afford at the time. But they were unique and colorful with a sunrise painted on one and a sunset on the other. We’d purchased them together and used them for every meal.

  They were special.

  She held one like a frisbee, and I thought for sure she was going to throw it at me, but she just said in a super creepy calm voice, “How dare you!” She threw the plate at the wall and it hit our wedding photo. Both plate and portrait crashed to the floor. Then she threw the second plate and told me—I’ve never seen her eyes so black!—she told me to get the bleep out. I never heard her swear before either.

  I’m no dummy, so I left. I called Jon, said I was coming over to his office. I gave him the scoop, and he tried talking me into counseling. What was left to talk about? Lil was pregnant with my child, I had to be there for her. Besides I love her so much it hurts. I didn’t choose to fall out of love with Erin. I didn’t choose to fall for Lil. It just happened. And I need to be happy. I’ll be a much better man then. A better father to both Mik and the new baby. In the end, we’ll all be better off.

  Even after I explained, Jon drove his fist into my eye. I thought he was my friend.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Friend? The plates were special? Jon balled his fists, remembering that afternoon, and resisted the urge to punch something again. He wasn’t a violent man, in spite of what his dad had taught him. That punch to Corey’s face had been the only one he’d ever landed on a human being. Usually, he took his aggressions out on the racquetball court. He should go there now.

  But instead, he kept reading, for Clara and Erin’s sake, and mentally created bullet points:

  Corey talked about how Lilith convinced him that shared custody of Mik involved seeing her one weekend a month. Jon couldn’t talk sense into him. That was perfectly fine with Erin. The amount of support he gave Erin and Mik was dismal because he no longer had a job, yet Corey complained about having to provide any at all since Erin was working.

  Corey wrote about the divorce, how he finally felt free. Then the wedding, a small justice-of-the-peace ceremony where only a handful of Lilith’s co-workers were present. Corey was upset that his parents and best friend didn’t have the decency to show up and celebrate with him.

  Celebrate? No way. He and the Beldens were in mourning.

  Jon laughed at the part where the “happy” couple opened a gift from Erin: the shattered pieces of the plates she’d thrown when Corey broke his news. Oh, he loved that attitude!

  Then there was way too much detail on the honeymoon that Jon just skipped over.

  If he didn’t know that these were the dark days of Corey’s soul, and that God’s light was soon going to break through that darkness, he might have stopped reading. Peeking into his friend’s messed-up thoughts was too heartbreaking. Loving him during those years had been tough enough, but the Holy Spirit had prompted Jon to stay at Corey’s side then, as He was today.

  Jon slogged through a few more entries about how amazing Corey’s new life was, how excited he was to become a father again, before the first sign of reality hit, on Christmas day. Corey missed Mik.

  __________

  Christmas Day, 2015

  I’ve always loved Christmas day. Especially since becoming a dad. Watching the sparkle in Mik’s eyes when she opened her presents. Getting her hugs. How she looked up to me . . .

  That didn’t happen today because Mik was with Erin and my folks. I’m their son, and yet I wasn’t welcome. Yeah, I get it. They’re mad at me. I’m now their prodigal son. But didn’t the father welcome that son home?

  Worst of all was missing Mik open her presents today. No hugs. No Daddy-is-the-best. Instead she now looks at me like I’m the enemy. I’m not. I love her. Just because her mom and I didn’t stay together doesn’t mean I wanted a divorce from the entire family. I’ll bet Erin’s poisoning our daughter against me.

  Why did I allow her to get custody all but one weekend per month?

  I’m such an idiot.

  __________

  Jon slapped shut the book.

  Yeah, Corey, you were an idiot, all right. You didn’t even remember that Lilith was the one who insisted on one weekend per month when Erin felt it should be more, and that Mik spent Christmas with Erin and Easter with him.

  That was all he could take for the night. He wanted to get to the good part, where Corey came to Jon and said, “I messed up big time. Can you help me?” but that was pages away yet, and Jon needed some encouragement to end the evening with, so he found Psalm 121 on his Bible app and read it on repeat, praying it over Erin, Mik, and Clara. And himself.

  * * *

  Erin pulled back her bedroom curtains and moaned. It wasn’t supposed to rain today. She checked her weather app and rain was forecast all day long. Just yesterday, the same forecaster had predicted sunny and warm. She’d promised Clara a trip to the nearby park, the one she and Mik used to spend hours at. Tomorrow would have to suffice, but what would they do today?

  Ideas skittered through her mind as she made a simple breakfast of scrambled eggs and fruit. Go shopping? With a three-year-old? No way. Children’s museum? Couldn’t afford it.

  She stirred the eggs while googling ideas. They either cost money or they were outdoors. Which meant, they’d be staying home, but doing what?
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br />   Beyond the kitchen window, the garage caught her eye. Painting was a definite option. Clara would love it, even if Erin didn’t.

  “I hungwy.” Clara walked into the kitchen, a blanket over one arm, the other both holding her pet crocodile, while sucking her thumb. The child version of multi-tasking.

  “Climb on up, Lolli.” Erin pulled out the step stool ladder that also served as a highchair. Clara appreciated the independence the stool brought her. She also pulled the bib over her head all by herself. “Scrambled eggs?”

  “My favowite!” Clara clapped her hands together, her reaction to most any food Erin made, so unlike Mik who’d been picky from the day she was born.

  Erin spooned eggs onto a sectioned child plate with The Little Mermaid cartoon figures on it. As a toddler, Erin had used the plate, then Mik, and now Clara. She cut grapes into quarters and a banana into slices and added both to other sections. Personally, Erin wouldn’t mind eating off a sectioned plate even now. She hated it when food touched.

  Clara had seconds of each food, mmming her way through the simple meal. Dramatic even in this, just like her father. He’d always vocalized his appreciation for a good meal, even when things started going downhill. That hadn’t been enough to convince him to stay, but she’d tried.

  Why couldn’t she look at Clara for once and not see Corey?

  Which was exactly why this darling child needed to be cared for by someone else.

  “We go to park now?” Clara showed her empty plate to Erin.

  Erin pointed to the window that showed rivulets of water streaming down. “I’m sorry, Lolli, but the park is all wet today.”

  The child’s lip poked out. “I wike the wain.”

  “I do too, sweetie, but being in the rain too much can make us both sneeze. Ahh-choo!”

  Clara giggled and mimicked Erin’s fake sneeze.