My eyes widen and my body goes stiff. “Ex-wife,” I say with as much of venom as possible. He doesn’t get to tote a wife and a girlfriend too. Not anymore.
If possible, Nate’s smile widens, and he bounces Emma on his hip. “I’m here helping until Josie is back on her feet.”
“That’s very nice of you, I’m sure,” Barry says. “I don’t like it when people try to use my daughter to get in her mother’s pants.”
I gasp, not because he’s so blunt, but because isn’t that what he used our daughter for when he started screwing the nanny? Plus, Nate hasn’t even seen my underpants.
Nate leans in a little closer, almost like he’s about to whisper something to Barry, but he ends up saying it loudly enough I have no problem hearing. “That’s why I’ve got muscles, mate.” He looks at the flabby skin on Barry’s arms and dramatically cringes before Emma hits him again with the LEGO block.
I laugh and pinch my lips together before I’m caught. Barry is proud of himself and if you upset him too much, he’ll make my life horrible.
“Emma has daycare for when you go to work. Right?” Barry asks. Funny how he remembers the daycare I use now when a few minutes ago I was incapable of taking care of Emma. As a new mother, I said I’d never put my child in daycare, so I hired a trained nanny to come to our home whenever I had an appointment or afternoon with my mother. Now I realize what a horrible decision that was, and I plopped Emma in the largest daycare center it in the county. She’s had every sickness known to man, but I figure it’s prepping her immune system for when she goes to school in a few years.
“Daycare? How can I let my girlfriend’s child go to daycare when I’m capable of taking care of both of them? Plus, with Josie unable to work she’ll be missing a paycheck, something I’m sure you, as a concerned father, care about and want to open up the checkbook and help with the extra expenses.” Nate ends his short speech with a knowing smile and my heart blossoms for the man who a few hours ago I worried had a criminal record.
Barry and I both stand looking at him with our mouths open. Me because I can’t believe he called me his girlfriend. He’s doing it for shock value because that’s something he should ask for approval on in advance.
“Well, um, things haven’t been great at the firm, but I can slip you extra grocery money. I can keep a record and make the courts take it out of future child support checks once you’re back on your feet,” Barry stumbles over himself getting all the words out.
This time it’s my turn to roll my eyes. I may hate the trait, but I picked it up from him. “Don’t worry about it. I hate to put you and Lindsey out. I have money saved.”
His face reddens because we both know all the money came from with the generous divorce settlement my amazing lawyer was able to get me. I may have been sad about my divorce, but I wasn’t stupid.
Emma rests peacefully.Her little head with her hair rumpled across the pillow looks quiet and serene. When she sleeps, there’s no evidence of the terror she possesses through her waking hours. She’s like a little angel. I give her a quick kiss on the top of her head and then spend another minute trying to memorize this exact scene as I lean against the doorjamb.
When I turn into the hallway, my steps squash in the wet carpet. There’s a clang and I hurry to close her door so the noise from the bathroom doesn’t wake her.
Most of Nate’s body blocks the view into the bathroom where he watches the maintenance man with his hands down the pipe. I hope the apartment complex pays their maintenance crew a lot. With a swish and squeak of rushing water, his hand comes up, his wrist wrapped in fake blonde doll hair.
“This looks to be the problem,” he says staring in disgust at the doll. “You shouldn’t try to flush things like this.” He looks past Nate and makes eye contact with me, like I’m the one who flushed the head of a doll down the toilet. I don’t plan to ask where the rest of her went.
Nate turns noticing my presence. “I’m sure it was an accident,” he says, smiling as if he too wants to blame this on me.
The maintenance guy — whose name I still haven’t learned — dumps the doll in the trash and I make a mental note to throw it away in the dumpster tonight. If Emma sees it, I’ll never get it away from her until she flushes it again. The rest of the cleanup goes quickly as he reattaches the toilet and uses one of my nice brand-new bathroom towels to dry his hands of the toilet water.
A large fan at the end of the hallway spins on high, working to dry the carpets, but the evaporation is cold and before long I’m forced to leave the area so the cool air doesn’t give me goosebumps.
The couch is a welcome haven when I truck my way to it and plop my foot back on the pillow, which has been stationed at the coffee table all day. It’s barely 8 o’clock, but it feels as if today I’ve lived a lifetime. They say the days are long, but the years are short. It’s a bunch of bullshit if you ask me. The days are long and a few of them longer than others, aging us enough for an entire year. Barry and I planned for four children before things went to crap right after having Emma. I planned to get pregnant right after her first birthday, but our happy marriage never made it that far. Looking at the current state of my home, it may have been a blessing.
What if Barry is right and I can’t take care of Emma as well as he could? It’s the pain from my ankle and the exhaustion from the day talking, but he has a point. My shit isn’t together when I’m 100 percent healthy. I wouldn’t have been hurt if she hadn’t gotten out of my grasp and run in the middle of the parking lot. What mother lets her child almost get hit by a truck?
“You should be fixed now. Just try not flush any non-organic material down the pipes,” the lumbering maintenance man comments and then walks through my living room, his wet boots leaving prints across the dry carpet. What’s a little more water, I suppose?
I wave his direction in a silent thank you and Nate walks him to the door, discussing wax rings and side bolts. I’m too tired to fake interest.
The couch fluffs up when Nate sits down at the other end. His movements jostle my leg and I grit my teeth trying hard not to cry out.
“Sorry.”
I breathe deep. “It’s fine.”
It’s one of those situations where if one part of my feeble attempt at building a wall of strength breaks, the whole thing will come down around me. I’ve held it together this long today, and I just need to get to bed so I can try again tomorrow.
“Do you want to watch TV?” Nate asks.
My head turns slowly in his direction contemplating what answer he expects me to give. “No, I want you to go home.”
The words are meaner than I intend them to sound, but I’m tired and I need a few minutes alone.
