Page 14 of My Girlfriend is Not the Father

‘Yep, yep, and you’re wrong.’ A heavy breath sounded over the phone, and she could just imagine him sitting in his favourite chair for their chat. ‘You had your fancy shrink appointment today?’

‘Sure did.’ She withheld telling him that no one used the word ‘shrink’ anymore.

‘Well, I figure they found you completely unfit, and you all can knock this nonsense off.’

To the outside world, his words might seem harsh, but she knew his heart. She kicked off her slippers and tucked her feet under her legs. ‘If that happens, you have to tell Drew.’

‘Hell no. That boy used to be so scrawny. Such a little shit. Now he has muscles for days. If I told him that, he’d probably throw me over his shoulder and toss me in the cornfields.’ The sound of her dad gulping back a drink echoed through the phone. ‘Guess you better stick with your plan then, huh?’

‘Guess so.’ Chucky nudged Lucy for more rubs. She obliged. ‘On Sunday, you want rhubarb pie, or should I bring some bars?’

‘Bring the ones with the cornflakes and peanut butter on the bottom,’ he said. ‘Time’s up. Gotta go feed the chickens. All righty.’

And with that, per Dad MO, he clicked off without saying goodbye, which was fine enough for her tonight anyway. She needed to veg out after today. Her tongue felt raw, and her brain was crispy. She turned on the TV, but choosing something to stream right now sounded awful.

Maybe a brain-dead quick scroll through social media would help her achieve optimal zone-out status. She opened an app, looked at the gazillion notifications from not opening the app for six months – and noticed the little message icon flashing.

She tapped, and a picture popped onto her screen: the gift basket she’d sent to the salon earlier today. Lucy perked up. Her chest perked. Her freaking skin perked.

I was confused at first. Sriracha makes sense. Chocolate, always a crowd pleaser. But the eucalyptus spray, I didn’t understand. Until I did. Heavenly. I’ve sprayed it over the whole salon, my car, my boots, and am currently contemplating taking a bath in it. Anyway, just wanted to thank you for the gift. Hope you have a great weekend! ~Jade

Lucy read the message more than a dozen times. She could leave it right there, smile at the kind note, and then go to bed. Done. But …

‘What do you think, Chucky? Thoughts on the matter?’ She rubbed his scruff.

The dog cocked his head. Clearly, no help at all.

Lucy raised and lowered her twitchy thumbs over the screen so many times that she was pretty sure her fingers were going to cramp. What do I do? Let this go, or take a chance? She kept looking at Chucky, and then back at the phone, hoping that one of them would give her the clarity she needed. After exhaling a full breath, she straightened her back and tapped the screen.

Chapter 6

Jade

Jade ripped off her bra and threw it in the corner, the clasp hitting the bare, stark-white bedroom wall with a ding. At this moment, she wanted nothing but to launch herself superwoman-style onto her bed and not move until she’d slept for a solid twelve hours.

Owning a business was everything she’d dreamed of. The salon had done well its first year, turning an actual profit, which was already much more than the ‘experts’ (her judgemental-as-hell parents) had predicted. She’d already done more than what her ex said she could do. Even more than what Jade herself thought possible. Starting next year, assuming things kept going well, she should even be able to offer health insurance to the dozen stylists in her salon – a rarity in her field.

Owning a business was also everything nightmares were made of. While the clients and staff were amazing, the invoices, taxes, banking, supply lists, back-orders, auditing, inventory … not amazing. Everything about this owning-your-own-business world was an Amy Winehouse beehive-level learning curve. During her marriage, Jade hadn’t filed a tax return, looked for insurance, or opened a credit card account on her own. She hadn’t even so much as paid a bill, as her wife took care of all their finances. And now, juggling a full day of hairstyling followed by two hours of paperwork at night, well … it was picking at her sanity.

Jade turned over and flung her wrist over her eyes, willing herself to stand so she could brush her teeth and slip into pyjamas before she fell asleep. She peeked at the clock resting on her nightstand. 7:07 p.m.

‘Power through,’ she mumbled and propped to her elbows, and then to a sitting position. She exhaled.

A sea of numbers and paperwork was soon drowning her. Sometimes Jade shot up at night, sweating, trying to remember if she’d forgotten to pay the electricity bill, or the colour distributor. She hated herself for the fleeting desire to ask her ex for help. Elizabeth was always so organised, so controlled, so ten steps ahead of everyone. Graduated early, promoted early, rose in the ranks at the communication firm where she worked in record time. Vowed to be the youngest VP in the history of the company, and then made it happen. Jade had no doubt that whatever Elizabeth put her mind to, she’d succeed at. But even though Jade scrambled and hustled, she always felt like she was lagging.

After wiggling back into the headboard, she pulled her laptop onto her lap and scanned her emails. She opened her reports from the previous month and reviewed the types of services the stylists performed, as well as which stylists brought in the highest profit margin. She squinted, hoping to concentrate on which sale she should run to move product without dipping too much into the profits. Walk-ins vs appointments, perms vs colours, backbar stock vs sellable product … she ground a knuckle into her eye socket.

A ping sounded, signalling a direct message, but she ignored it. Talking all day, being ‘on’, depleted her. Right now, she didn’t care who it was, though her brain did flag the warning that it could be Elizabeth trying yet another avenue to contact her …

Funny how dynamics changed in a relationship. For years, it was Jade trying to contact an unreachable Elizabeth. Jade liked to blame Elizabeth for the demise of their marriage because she wanted to be a mom. But truthfully, their marriage had cracked years prior. Elizabeth was a star, and she shone the brightest in the room – any room. Hyper-driven, successful, beautiful. Loud. ‘She sure is the life of the party, isn’t she?’ Jade’s mother would beam, staring at Elizabeth with the pride that Jade craved. Jade was pushed to the side, not heard or seen. Her wife took up all the space, and there was none left for her. Sometimes Elizabeth would forget to text her back, or show up late for dinner, and more than once she forgot their anniversary because work or something else besides Jade took precedence.

Of course, at first, Jade excused it all. She loved Elizabeth so hard that she convinced herself Elizabeth’s scraps were enough. But after a few years of telling herself that the morsels of time Elizabeth flung her way were enough, something in Jade broke.

She would never forget the odd behaviour that became her wake-up call. One evening, after Elizabeth was late for dinner again, Jade had stepped away from the now-cold pasta primavera to take an ‘important’ phone call from a phantom number. She faked the conversation all the way to their bedroom, where she closed the door, then sat shaking on the side of the bed, feverishly asking herself What the hell am I doing?

Another time, Jade struck up a conversation with a stranger at the bar. Elizabeth was right next to her as Jade laughed loudly with the stranger about something inane, her back to Elizabeth. What the hell am I doing? she asked herself again.

But this time, she had an answer. Obviously, she wanted to prove how independent and cool she was. Obviously, she wanted to show her wife that if Elizabeth could mingle at parties and ignore Jade, well, Jade could ignore her too.