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CHAPTER NINE
Chloe heard the giggling from behind the closed bathroom door.
“What are you guys doing in there?” she asked, pausing before opening it. She prayed they weren’t playing another one of those “you show me yours, I’ll show you mine” games she’d caught them at the week before. Then she’d been the model of parental calm, careful not to shame or embarrass them, assuring them that while it was natural to be curious about the physical differences between boys and girls, their bodies were private and it was important to respect them.
“What’s ‘respect’?” had come four-year-old Sasha’s immediate response.
Chloe couldn’t remember her answer. Her mind was a roiling mess of conflicting thoughts and emotions: her husband was an unrepentant womanizer; he was a liar and a cheat; she hated him; she would divorce him, take him for every cent he had. Yet how could she leave him? They had two beautiful children together. And despite everything, she still loved him. Love didn’t just disappear overnight, not when you’d been together for virtually all your adult lives.
He hadn’t really wanted to get married. She was the one who’d pressured him into a commitment by getting pregnant. They’d been dating since high school. It was time to shit or get off the pot, she’d told him, stopping just short of an ultimatum. But he wasn’t ready. And she knew that. So his acting out this way wasn’t altogether his fault. Didn’t she share at least part of the blame?
“No, you do not,”she heard Paige say.“You are in no way responsible for Matt’s bad behavior. Your husband’s the guilty one here, not you.”
But maybe if I’d been more attentive, Chloe thought, continuing her silent argument with her oldest and best friend. Maybe if I’d taken more of an interest in his work, paid less attention to the kids and more to him, maybe if I’d been more adventurous in bed…
“No!” Chloe said loudly, pushing open the bathroom door with such vehemence that it slammed against the wall. “Oh, God,” she said, her eyes widening in alarm at the sight that greeted her.
“Sorry, Mommy,” Sasha whimpered, backing toward the white enamel tub.
“What have you done?” Chloe’s eyes darted between Sasha and her brother, her voice teetering dangerously close to a shriek.
“We were just playing,” Josh said.
Chloe noted the total absence of an apology in his voice. Were males incapable of taking ownership of their misdeeds? Did it start this young? Or was it something in their DNA? “Look at this mess,” she cried, feeling all semblance of control slipping away. “There’s toothpaste all over everything.”
“We were just brushing their teeth,” Sasha said, offering up the stuffed pink bunny in her hands for her mother’s inspection.
Chloe stared at the dozen dolls and stuffed animals littering the white tile floor, their plush exteriors covered in thick blue toothpaste. “They’re ruined.”
“You can wash them,” Josh said matter-of-factly.
“The hell I will,” Chloe shot back.
Sasha gasped. “Mommy said a bad word,” she whispered, her big brown eyes widening in a combination of surprise and fright.
Chloe felt her body recoil in horror as she acknowledged the fear on her daughter’s face. It was a look she understood all too well. Hadn’t she stared at her own mother with that same look? Of course, her mother had had alcohol as an excuse for her outbursts, outbursts that were predictable only in their frequency. What excuse did she have?
Stop this,Chloe told herself.Stop this now. There are worse things in life than toothpaste covering a bunch of plush toys. Things like an unfaithful husband, things like a man who has so little respect for his wife that he advertises his infidelity on dozens of dating websites, that he uses his real picture.
“What’s respect?”she heard Sasha ask.
What answer had she given? What did she know of respect?
“These things are going in the garbage,” Chloe said.
“No!” Josh cried, bursting into tears as Chloe began gathering up the toys.
They glommed onto her Rolling Stones T-shirt, the toothpaste coating the giant teeth and protruding tongue. Could anything be more fitting?
And suddenly she was laughing at the absurdity of it all. She sank to her knees, falling back against the cabinet beneath the sink and letting the toys drop to the floor beside her. Sasha was instantly in her lap, her little arms surrounding Chloe’s neck, pulling her mother’s face into her delicate blond curls, while Josh went about the business of removing the stuffed toys from the danger of his mother’s wrath.
“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Sasha said again.
Chloe kissed her daughter’s forehead, sudden exhaustion replacing her anger. “I’m sorry, too, sweetie.” She looked up at Josh. “It’s okay, Joshy. I won’t throw them out.”
“You can put them in the washing machine,” he said, erasing his tears with the back of his hand. “It says right here that they’re machine washable.” He pointed to the paste-covered tag protruding from a powder-blue teddy bear’s seams.
Chloe felt a burst of pride at her son’s growing ability to read. “I know. I’m sorry I yelled.” She beckoned him toward her.
