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I’ve probably been drinking more than normal this last month, but it’s to be expected when your life is tossed in the washer and turned on spin cycle. You know, when your heart, soul, dreams, and future is thrown into a blender and puréed.
It’s hard to believe it was only a month ago that my world shattered. One minute I was married to my high school sweetheart, living in a cute little house on Porter Avenue, and the next I was packing my shit and leaving in the middle of the night without looking back.
That’s how it happened.
My dad had just dropped me off from one of our monthly sisters’ nights. This one was different because everyone was there. Not just us girls. I felt like a big fraud the entire night, smiling and laughing, when in reality, I was dying inside. I had discovered something just that morning. A very big something that I couldn’t unsee, couldn’t forget. After another night where Chris said he’d “try” to stop by at the gathering, I found myself completely alone. Not physically, because the asshole was sleeping in the bed we shared, but emotionally.
I had been betrayed. I had been gutted. I had been broken.
There was only one thing for me to do. I packed a big overnight bag (carefully, as to not wake the sleeping douche), left a copy of the paper I had stumbled upon with my wedding ring on the kitchen counter, and walked out the door.
Considering it was somewhere around one in the morning, I knew my destinations were limited (even though any one of my sisters would have taken me in, without a question asked). I ended up driving to Abby’s place that night. I knew she’s be staying with Levi, so my plan was to sneak into her apartment and deal with her the next day.
Unfortunately, they busted me in the parking lot. Well, I guess you could say I busted them. I’m pretty sure I pulled up at the tail end of road-head, which we had all been discussing earlier in the night. When I pulled up and got out of my car, Abby saw me from Levi’s truck. She was adjusting a pretty rough looking ponytail, and when I questioned her on it, all I got was a horrible blush. Levi, on the other hand, looked as relaxed as possible, with this big dopey grin on his face.
That grin disappeared quickly when they saw my bag and realized what was going on.
Abby let me stay at her place without question, and I’ve been there for four weeks.
My dad and grandparents stop by often; you know, just to check up on me. See, my mom died when I was ten from ovarian cancer, leaving six young girls and a husband behind. Dad has done everything a father would do for his kids, but realized he needed help. That’s where my grandparents came in. My mom’s parents, Orval and Emma, moved in with us after she died to help take care of us. They’re incredibly embarrassing and wildly inappropriate, to say the least, but I wouldn’t want them any other way. Well, maybe less talk about blowjobs and sex toys from the elders, but whatever.
We’re one big, dysfunctional family.
“Hey! Did you get lost in there? Where’s the booze!” Jaime hollers from the main area of the salon, pulling me from the memory I was lost in.
A few moments later, I rejoin my sisters with a fresh pitcher of drinks. After topping off each of their cups, I make my way back to the chair where Ella is waiting. “Your turn,” she says with a smile.
“Hey, Abs, where’d you hang your new swing?” Payton asks with an ornery grin as she heads over to the massage table.
“I wish you’d all get amnesia and forget about that,” Abby says, her face three shades of red.
“Have you used it?” I ask my twin who picks out a deep shade of purple for her toes.
“No way!”
“Why did you get the sex swing? Lexi’s more likely to use it,” AJ says, as she gets ready to have a manicure.
The sex swing is just one of the many radical gifts we’ve received over the years from our grandparents. Orval and Emma don’t know the meaning of boundaries, and think it’s natural to talk about the sex with their grandkids. It doesn’t matter how old we get, it’s still just wrong to witness their constant groping, fondling, and sex talk. And now that some of my sisters are in relationships, there’s a never-ending supply of new stories, unwanted advice, and crazy gifts showered upon us.
But for as inappropriate as they are, it’s who they are. (Well, maybe less closet nooky would be nice. Do you know how many times I’ve opened the door and found them in a compromising position?) Looking at them, that’s the way love is supposed to be. Even after sixty-plus years of marriage, they can’t keep their hands off each other.
Theirs is nothing like my marriage.
“Lex, how’s the apartment hunting?” Payton asks, causing everyone to look my way. Finally, someone addresses the elephant in the room. My sisters found out that I left my husband the day after, but haven’t pushed me for details.
Abby glances my way. I can feel her stare, but refuse to look her way. If I do, I’m liable to cry, and I hate crying. Hate. It. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable, two things I despise as of late. Mostly because that’s all I feel. Inept. Weak. Used.
“Actually,” I start, clearing my throat. “I think I’m going to stay with Abby and take over her lease.”
All eyes turn towards Abby. “And that means…” Meghan starts, letting it trail off so Abby can fill in the rest.
“I’m going to move across the hall to Levi’s,” my twin says with a shy smile.
“Finally,” Jaime says, her green eyes full of excitement.
Abby blushes again, a darling shade of red.
“Has he contacted you?” AJ asks.
