Defining Moments Read Free Page B

is officially over.

As I wipe at the tears blurring my vision, I spot the flip-flop hiding under my bed. I knew that damn thing was around here somewhere; I’d been looking everywhere for it yesterday. The one place I hadn’t looked was under the bed so, of course, that’s where it’s at. I lift my head from the carpet, vaguely noticing how damn bad it smells. I really should hire someone to come shampoo it soon. I’ll have to sit down this afternoon and pay bills to see if I can afford it this month.
    Pushing myself up to a sitting position, I take a look around our room. It’s full of pictures of our family—family vacations, family BBQs, and family hiking trips. I stand on shaky legs and walk toward the closest wall. The first picture is of us on the beach a few summers ago in Hawaii. The second one is of all of us at the top of Rendezvous Mountain in Wyoming, which is one of my favorite hikes ever. I stop when I get to the third one. It’s of just Justin and me, both smiling at each other, on the beach in Aruba. It was the only vacation we’d taken without our boys, and it was last year when we went away for our twentieth wedding anniversary and renewed our vows on the beach; renewed our vows to love each other forever. I hurl the picture across the room, where it shatters against the wall near the bathroom. That’ll be fun to clean up later. Damn it.
    I feel the tears start to surface again and it pisses me off. I refuse to be this broken person anymore. When Justin told me he “needed more,” I thought I’d never recover. I was pathetic. But I pulled myself up, got a job, and am going to school to do something I enjoy. Yes, I’d been hoping he’d come back, but I lost him six months ago. I already know I can live life without him because I’ve been doing it for the past six months.
    Walking into the bathroom, trying to avoid the mess I made with the picture frame, I turn the faucet on to run a hot bath. Seeing how nothing goes better with a long hot soak in the tub than a glass of wine, I trot downstairs to fill a glass. I don’t even care that it’s only 10 a.m. As I walk back toward the stairs, wine glass in one hand, iPad in the other, I hear my phone chime from the kitchen. I guess I should check that in case it’s one of the boys.
     
    Justin: I’m sorry, Ell. I had hoped to have that conversation with you alone, but Jules insisted on coming.
    Me: Stop texting me, Justin. Have your lawyer send me the divorce papers. We have nothing else to discuss. If something comes up with one of the boys, I’ll let you know.
    Justin: Please don’t be this way. I said I’m sorry.
    Me: I don’t need or want your apologies. You need to tell the boys about the baby before they hear it from someone else. They’ll be even more pissed if they hear it from anyone but you. And stop texting me.
    Justin: That’s another thing I was going to talk to you about earlier. I was hoping you’d tell them. They’re going to be mad no matter who tells them and I am just starting to rebuild my relationship with them. They’ll take it better from you.
     
    I resist the urge to throw the phone across the room because that will just mean I have to fork out the money to replace it. He’s doing it again, acting like it’s me he’s worried about when it’s just the boys, and once again, I feel like a selfish asshole for being jealous.
     
    Me: You can’t be serious.
    Justin: Please, Ell.
    Me: Hell no. Be a fucking man, Justin! At the very least, it will teach the boys a life lesson about having unprotected sex with someone who’s not their wife.
    Justin: Not funny.
    Me: Not kidding. Stop texting me. Turning my phone off.
     
    And I do. Returning to the bathroom with my lovely glass of wine, I strip my clothes and step into the heat waiting for me. I soak until my skin begins to prune, pondering my life away.
    I step out of the tub, reaching for a towel across from me on the vanity, but stop when I look up into the mirror