Page 13 of Shattered Dreams

I can’t believe this is finally happening.

I can finally move forward.

Chapter Six

Paul

I lean back in my chair, glancing up at the clock. Twenty more minutes until two-thirty—until that glorious bell rings and I can get the fuck out of here. The closer it gets to the end of the year, the more antsy I get for the last day of school. I love my job, don’t get me wrong, but at this point in the year, getting sixth, seventh, and eighth graders to do literally anything is like pulling teeth between all the spring concerts, formals, graduation ceremonies, field trips…

Amelia and her friends are heading to PA for some wine festival thing this weekend, so it’s just me and Maddox until Sunday night. Well, Andre, too, of course, since I volunteered to help him get all of his shit moved into his new house that he closed on today.

The bell rings, and I breathe a sigh of relief, springing up from my chair so fast, the damn thing spins. I don’t waste a second as I tell the phys-ed assistant, Tyler, goodbye and hurry out of the locker room into the hallway, making my way through the sea of kids—a handful of them high-fiving me or calling out my name—and I do my best to give them all smiles and high fives and tell them to have a good weekend.

I wait patiently in the car for Maddox to get his things, and no sooner than the slam of the door is he running up to my Jeep, his grin wide, ready to jump in, but I tell him to go inside and say goodbye to his mother first and then walk out of the door and don’t slam it. Which he does.

Amelia walks him back out with his duffel bag, her brownish-blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun. She’s wearing a baby-blue velvet tracksuit with varsity lettering that reads Bridesmaid. I get out and grab the duffel from her and toss it in the back seat as Maddox climbs in and I shut the door. She leans against the side of the car and twists her lips, as if she’s unsure of something, instead of leaving like she usually does.

“Everything okay?” I ask, looking up at her. Her blue eyes shimmer with familiarity.

“Yeah, I was just wondering if you could drop Maddox off at school Monday? We’re probably going to get back super late Sunday and—”

I nod, because of course I can. Rockridge Elementary is literally down the street and around the bend from the middle school, and I’m not opposed to extra time with my son.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll bring him home after practice Monday night. If that works.”

There’s a pause as Amelia looks at me, and I realize my error.

I’d said home, as if it was still ours. Even though it hasn’t been for a couple years now. Amelia’s gaze softens, almost sympathetically, and I hate it. It’s no one’s fault. Some people just aren’t meant to be together, and Amelia and I, despite having Maddox, just aren’t meant to be with each other, and I’ve accepted that. She’s accepted it, too. But it doesn’t mean I don’t wish things were different sometimes. It wasn’t always difficult. Sometimes, it was really nice, and I miss it. Not being married, but I guess I miss that feeling of being in the same space with someone, sharing things, being boring together. Living together. Sleeping together, even if there was no sex involved. Just knowing someone else was there, even when you didn’t talk or interact with them, you could feel them, and that was enough. Sure, I get Maddox for a few days a week and my house isn’t quite so lonely, but it’s not the same. I miss adult companionship, I guess. Being with someone. I think that’s why I stuck things out so long with Amelia when we both knew it wasn’t working. It was easier to be miserable with her than to be miserable alone, knowing I had failed at the one thing that should have been easier than anything else—being a good husband and father.

“Your place is his home, too, you know,” she says carefully, giving me a soft smile.

“I know, I just—” I sigh, looking back at the house that used to be my house. I can still remember when we moved in. Amelia was seven months pregnant. We didn’t have a big wedding or anything. We just went down to the courthouse and did it before anyone could talk us out of it—more or less, Amelia’s parents, who never liked me, understandably.

I should feel sadness or remorse, or even guilt when I look at the house. It’s perfect with its blue shutters and door; the white picket fence and perfectly landscaped yard. But I don’t miss the house as much as I miss the life that existed inside of it. The future that was planned out and never happened.

My apartment isn’t bad, but it’s not where I thought I’d be living at this point in my life, either. And I certainly didn’t see myself being a divorced single dad with no social life—or romantic life, for that matter.

“I don’t know about that, Amelia,” I say with a sigh. “It’s not—”

“The same?” she adds, leaning against the side of the car.

I look at her, at her familiar, knowing gaze.

“Yeah,” is all I can manage.

She gives me a soft smirk. “Maybe you should get a roommate.” She shrugs.

I give her a knowing glare.

“No,” I say plainly. We’ve had this conversation more than I want to admit. Amelia thinks I’m turning into a hermit because I don’t spend my weekends off doing much more than hanging out with my kid, like that’s a bad thing.

“Or a goldfish,” she says with a faint laugh, nudging my shoulder. I hate that it makes me crack a smile and laugh a little. Because we both know what happened to Gold Digger, Maddox’s goldfish he won from the fair. I glance at my kid in the backseat, playing his Switch as best he can with his cast.

“Right,” I say sarcastically. “Because a goldfish is totally the same thing as a person.”

“I’m just saying,” she says as she nudges my arm, her voice tinged with humor and concern.

I sigh, not wanting to have this conversation. Not here, not now. Maybe not ever.