James coughs. “Have we?”
“Once we’re married, kids and a house follow.” She looks around the room. “I mean, that’s what marriage is about, right? Building something together?”
“It’s important for couples to be on the same page about those things,” Margaret offers diplomatically.
“Until a baby comes, you don't realize your spouse might want a completely different future.” Mason’s eyes gleam blue as a frosted lake. “But trying for a baby is certainly fun.”
“Don’t be crude.” Margaret chides him.
James’s eyes find mine across the room. This time, I didn't fold away or hide behind Mason trying to tear me down. But instead of pride in my strength, all I see is a man dying inside, forced to watch from the sidelines, absorbing the awkwardness as best he can while pretending to be nothing more than Ivy’s fiancé.
“If you’ll excuse me, Anna needs to go to bed.”
Once Anna’s settled in her crib, I see the text I was expecting.
Sydney, this is Vera Navarro, James’s mom. He mentioned you’re willing to talk. Please call me when you have a chance. Even today is fine.
I lock myself in the bathroom and dial. Talking to a woman helping others escape bad situations is the perfect ending to this day.
She answers on the second ring, her voice warm and instantly calming. Our conversation flows with the ease of old friends, while she fills me in on a woman who recently found refuge in her shelter. I slip into work mode, taking notes, asking questions, and outlining next steps. This is something I know how to do, even if my day to day involves more paper pushing than people helping.
“I’ll pass along your number,” Vera says. “I think she’ll be ready soon.”
In the background, I hear movement. A deep male voice says something I can’t make out. Vera hushes him gently. “I’m on the phone.”
“Sounds like you’re needed. I won’t keep you.”
She chuckles. “Oh, you’re not getting rid of me that easily. That’s Darrell. He can wait. I can’t let the infamous Sydney off the phone so soon.”
I blink. James talks about me? More than just mentioning I could help? But it’s the name Darrell that sticks. There’s something in the way she says it. Something soft. Curious, I venture, “Darrell is…?”
“My partner,” she says, without hesitation. “James told me he shared some of my history with you. So no need to tiptoe around it.”
I hadn’t expected her to be so direct, and dozens of questions surged forward.
How did she learn to trust again? To open up? How did she bring a new man into her child’s life after so much uncertainty and pain? Wasn’t she scared the past would just repeat itself?
As if reading my thoughts, she continues, her voice softer, more reflective. “Coming out of that marriage… It wasn’t easy. I stayed too long. I knew it. The way it ended…”
She exhales, then continues. “It took a long time, but when I met Darrell, I knew he was different. Opening up again wasn’t easy. Letting someone in after all that damage might have taken more courage than actually leaving my husband. But I had a choice. I didn’t have to stay stuck in the pain. I could stop just surviving and start really living. The hard part was realizing the power had been mine all along. I only had to choose it.”
The line crackles, as if urging me to lean in and hear what she’s offering.
“What made Darrell different?” The question slips out before I can stop it.
“Darrell never needed me to be anything but who I was. He didn’t try to fix it. He just stayed and let me carry what I needed to.”
Her words slice right through every guarded part of my soul. Tears follow.
“I’m sorry, Vera, I have to go. Anna is fussing,” I lie, barely getting the words out.
“Sydney,” she says, warmth threading every syllable. “Call me anytime, for any reason.”
I run a hand over my face, breath shaky, as I perch on the edge of the bathtub.
Our pasts aren’t the same. But for the first time, someonegetsit. The fear of letting someone in. The guilt that trails every thought. The endless calculus.
I see it now. How I’ve been living in the shadow of my parents’ wounds, always bracing for the next blow. Is this how I want to keep living? Guarded, afraid, already grieving the loss of a love I’ve never even allowed myself to have?
