Kelsey got pregnant with Evan four months into our relationship, a long-distance one at that. We were married months later, and for a time, things were good. Until they weren’t. I had no idea Kelsey had a drug problem until it was too late, but I got my son out of it, and for that, I don’t regret our relationship. The reasons we shouldn’t have married have nothing to do with her addiction. I just wish I knew sooner so I could have gotten her help.
Instead of sleeping like I should be, I watch the game again, taking mental notes on what I can improve on, but for now, I’ll celebrate tonight’s win. When I reach for the cold pillow next to me, I’m hit by a sudden bout of loneliness. The love you have for a child can do wondrous things, but it can’t fill the deep void of emptiness inside. The kind that can only be fulfilled by another adult human being. The kind you can hold, kiss, and make love to on a night like tonight. The kind who would wait up for you to get home and jump in your arms when you walk through the door. The kind who will celebrate your wins and mourn your losses along with you. I never had that with Kelsey. Looking back, I was a means to an end. I was her ticket out of Alabama, and she seized it.
When Daddy died, Mama never dated when we were still living with her. She’s still a beautiful woman, and back then, she got lots of offers. She still does, but she said her free time was only going to her sons, and she held firm. There was no string of men coming through our house. We continued to eat together each night, have Bible study every Wednesday, and church on Sunday. The only difference was that Daddy was no longer there. His chair sat empty at the head of the table, and Mama never disrespected his memory by offering that seat to another person.
I need to do the same for my son. He needs consistency, but more than that, he needs me. I’m reluctant to bring someone new into his life, especially after it went so horribly the one time I tried. But knowing that doesn’t stop the loneliness from creeping in on me on a late night when half of my California king bed remains empty and cold.
TWO
“Victoria,it’s your mother. The one who gave birth to you. Remember her? I feel like I’ve been trying to get up with you for weeks. Can you please give yourmothera call? The mother who gave you life. And you’ll never guess who I bumped into the other day. Call me and I’ll tell you all about it.” The call ends, and I pout as I add Russian Red lipstick to my lips. Way to be subtle, Mother. Like I don’t know the difference between her and my evil stepmother.
As if I need her to remind me that she’s the woman who left her family, and my stepmother is the one who came in two years later and kept us all together. I know the difference. I lived it as a child, and I carry it with me every single day.
I delete her message and look at my reflection in the mirror, pleased with what I see. I add a little mascara to my smoky eye look. The rouge on my cheeks is subtle, so subtle it’s barely noticeable. The brownness of my skin only enhances my red lips, making them look fuller.
My black skirt might be short, but my lacy red top is ruched, hiding the slight bulge of my stomach. My goal, starting next week, is to get back into yoga and pull back on the carbs. But for tonight, I’ll drink wine and eat whatever I want.
I pick up my phone, FaceTime my sister, and wait for her to accept my call. I laugh when I see flour on her face. She blows a breath upward, and her bangs bounce on her forehead.
“Hey. Just supervising the best sleepover in the history of the world.” I hear giggles and the sounds of kids talking.
“I don’t think anyone can outdo our evil stepmother when it comes to hosting the best sleepovers.” I think back to my preteen years at home with my father and stepmom. She never said no to us having friends over, and she not only allowed sleepovers, but she planned them and entertained our friends. She’d help us prepare a menu, make elaborate appetizers and entrees, and let us stay up late into the night watching movies.
“Just watch me,” Tara says. “And you look hot. Who’s the guy?” Her boyfriend, a single father, stands behind her and waves. She turns and looks up adoringly at him. He bends down and kisses her.
“Hey! Enough of that, now.” Tara looks back, not looking the least bit guilty about ignoring me to kiss her man. If I had a man as sexy as Ethan Bradford, I’d kiss him too. “I was calling to invite you two out to dinner with me and friends, but I see you have your hands full.” They are both casually dressed, and my sister looks like she can use a hot shower to wash the flour away.
“No, you weren’t. You’re wearing your date lipstick.” I stick my tongue out at her. She knows me well. The Russian Red only comes out when it’s a hot date.
“You got me.” When Ethan walks away, I lower my voice and say, “Your mother has been calling me nonstop. Why?”
She shrugs. “Ourmother,” she reminds me. “She’s trying to arrange a brunch or a spa date of some sort. She got me this afternoon just as I was leaving the office.” I roll my eyes, but I know Mother won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “She complained about not getting Alan on the phone too.”
My twin brother Alan has been at a conference for the last few days. He’s been too busy to take even my calls, and we always answer each other’s calls. But I know when he talks to her, he’ll agree to whatever she wants. Once he does, she will enlist him to convince me and Tara.
“What did you tell her?” I ask my sister.
“I told her I’d get back to her.”
“I can’t deal with this tonight. I need to be in midtown in an hour.”
“Yeah, you look too fabulous to waste staying in.” A small child calls her name, and my sister turns around. I lose her for a second, but when she returns, she’s holding a little boy in her arms. Vincent, Ethan’s son, waves and giggles. He’s a sweet kid with spiky, dirty blonde hair and wire-rimmed glasses. Tara kisses his cheek, and he pretends to hate it, but he lets out a loud belly laugh. He wiggles, and she puts him down.
“Okay, lady. I’ll let you get back to your evening. If you talk to your mother before I do, tell her I’ve been sick.”
“Um, you know I can never keep my story straight when I lie, and don’t dump her on me. She’sourmother.” We end the call, and I open my Uber app. One more dab of lipstick later, I grab my fitted black leather jacket, but just as I reach the door, my phone rings. I pull it out of my clutch. It’s my mother. Having had enough of dodging her, I answer the phone.
“Mother,” I say. I let out an exaggerated, rushed breath and hope she gets the hint.
“Is that my daughter? The one I carried with her twin brother? Do you know I gained over one hundred pounds with you two? After that, I said never again, but your father would have kept going if—”
One eye roll later, I decide to cut her off. “Mother, I’ve heard this a million times before. I’m on my way out the door. Can I call you tomorrow?” I have my hand on the doorknob, ready to walk out and get on with my night.
“I’ll make it quick. Guess who I ran into?”
“No idea but hurry up and tell me before my Uber gets here.” I put her on speaker and check the app. My car is still seven minutes away, but she doesn’t need to know the details.
“He showed up at my job like a ghost. I almost fell over on my behind when I saw him. I thought I was seeing things.” Never, ever one to get to the damn point.
