“But I like to listen to live music. I love a good flea market or art festival. I don’t want to be home nurturing my children all day every day for the rest of my life.”
“Well, me and my crew will be happy to have you.”
“They can barely stand me.”
This was true.
I didn’t confirm.
I said, “And maybe you can find one or two of your crew, corner them, tell them this same thing. Also tell them you might not be able to go, but now that the kids’ dads are in their lives, you also might be able to. So they should ask.”
“I know you think I’m stubborn, but I feel like they deserted me,” she explained. “I try to understand where they’re coming from. It isn’t like we’re middle-aged, settling down, whatever. We’re young. I get it that kids are a drag to them. But it seems like they gave up on me really quick. Dusk isn’t even four, and they’ve been gone from my life for years.”
Oddly enough, the distraction of this phone call allowed me to perfect my eyeliner wing, therefore I could move on in my makeup regime.
I did this while saying, “Okay, then, I’ll repeat, fuck ’em. If you’re not comfortable hanging with my crew, I don’t know. Maybe there’s a single moms’ group or something you can find to make some friends who get you.”
“I’ve been jealous of you. All my life,” she blurted.
Good God.
It was all coming out.
“Mom and Dad like you best,” she carried on. “You have a huge group of friends, and you’re super close and always doing fun stuff. People like you. People don’t like me. At most, they tolerate me.”
I was tapping foundation on with my sponge, at the same time mentally casting wide to try to find some response to this, because it sucked for her, but all of it was true.
Before I could come up with something, she asked, “What happens when Byron figures out I’m an asshole?”
“Dream, he’s been around for a while.”
She didn’t reply.
“Listen to me,” I said as I added concealer. “Your personality might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s okay. Because the people you find who are solid and stick are going to be your true people. And you’ll find them, Dream.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You’re dating a guy who has seen you, time and again, come in and be pissy with me, and he’s still into you. He even told you off once. And I’ll repeat, he’s still into you. We live, we change, we grow. He’s seen you grow. Hell, isn’t that what we’re doing right now on this call?”
“And now it annoys me that you’re also wiser than me,” she bitched. “I’m older. I should be wiser.”
“Sister, it wasn’t me who picked ‘Shadowboxer’ and sorted out your love life in a single blow. Don’t talk to me about wise. That was genius. You’re unbelievably beautiful when you’re with your kids. You’re a natural mom. You stumbled for a bit. So what? We all do.”
“You haven’t.”
What could I say?
I was awesome.
Even so.
“I missed out on over a year with my guy, faked a flirtation with his friend, and he’s right now having awkward beers with him because I asked him to, that being I asked him to clean up my mess. But he’s already warned me he’s probably not going to forgive him. Yet, he has to work with him. And I spent a week nursemaiding him after he got shot, totally feeling the waters of seeing if we’d get back together again, without realizing that was what I was doing, and instead telling anyone who would listen we were just friends. I’d say that was more than a stumble. It was a crash and burn.”
“True,” she mumbled.
“And if you like Byron and think this might go somewhere, you’re going to have to learn to compromise,” I informed her. “I know I don’t have to tell you that not everyone is vegan, composts, or low-key boycotts Christmas every year as a statement against materialism.”
“Gotta say, I didn’t really have a problem with that two-hundred-dollar bottle of champagne. It was really delicious.”
