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“Thank goodness you’re here. He’s pacing, talking to himself,” she says as I walk into my house after her. I don’t look back to see if Dean is behind me. I don’t need to; I can feel him like a balmy breeze propelling me forward.
I walk into the living room and see Kevin standing there, dressed casually in jeans, T-shirt, and running shoes.
“Hello, Kevin.” I use an unaffected voice, as I slow my pace to stroll into the living room, my mother hot at my heels.
“Mil, where have you been?” he says, looking agitated. H
is normally handsome face marred by a sneer.
“Out,” I return shortly. I'm not trying to antagonize him, but I also don’t want him to think he can walk in and demand to know my whereabouts.
“Yeah. I know . . .” he trails off and his eyes move beyond me. I know Dean has entered the room because the energy has changed completely.
“Who is this?” Kevin snaps. Like a stranger has entered his home.
“This is my . . . this is Dean,” I stammer, and I want to groan for not having a response to this question ready.
“I’m Dean Orleans. Milly’s boyfriend.” Dean reaches around me and puts his hand out for Kevin to shake.
Kevin ignores his offered hand and only gawks at him. I want to gawk, too. My boyfriend?
I speak instead. “I'm home. What do you need? My mother says you need to speak with me. What is it? Couldn’t you have said it over the phone?”
This seems to wake him up. “It’s private, family business. I'm not talking about it with him here.” He tips his head in Dean’s direction.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Okay, then why don’t we set up a time to talk about this over the phone?” I look at Kevin, raise an eyebrow and wait.
“It can’t wait. I need to talk to you now.” Kevin insists.
“Look, either tell me now or call me later. I’m tired.”
And I mean it. I'm tired and I’m anxious for him to leave. Dean walks over to me, puts his arm around my waist and pulls me against him.
“Red, why don’t you go up and see your son. I’ll walk him out for you,” he whispers audibly.
Kevin rears back. “You don’t need to walk me out of my own fucking house, man. I need to talk to my wife. You need to leave.”
I bristle, stepping away from Dean and toward Kevin.
“Don’t you dare call me that. You lost that right a long time ago. Even before you left. This may be half your house, but it is my home. You need to leave. Now.”
“You can’t do this.” Kevin starts toward me.
“Man. Don’t take another step toward her. I'm fucking telling you right now, if you do not leave, I will put you out,” Dean rumbles, stepping between Kevin and me. This time, I decide not to stop him.
My mother hasn’t said a word since we walked into the room. I look at her to find her staring at Dean, eyes wide and glittering, with a look of utter surprise on her face. I need to get this scene over with. Now.
“Please. Just go,” I plead, not caring how I sound right now.
Kevin looks between the three of us and then shakes his head in resignation and anger.
He turns to face me. The expression on his face is soft, his annoyance and arrogance completely gone. For a moment, it reminds me of the old him. The Kevin I married, and I feel wistful and sorry. Sorry this man, the one who looks capable of contrition and honesty, isn’t really who Kevin is. Sorry for our younger selves who thought they could build a marriage on insecurity and mediocrity.
I step toward Dean, wanting to make a point.
Kevin’s swallow is audible, before he says quietly, “Mil, I’ll call you tomorrow. I miss you.”
He walks past me and then he's gone. My mother walks out of the room after him without a word.
