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17
MARY-BETH
Kayla did storm right out with her bag when Caprice arrived a half-hour later, and nothing me or Alex said could stop her. Maddy was still asleep, so when she’d gone, Alex made coffee while I sat heavily down at the kitchen table. All thoughts of a sexy night together were gone from my mind, of course. All that mattered at that moment was Kayla.
“This is Clarissa’s fault!” Alex growled as he slammed around grinding coffee beans and frothing oat milk. “Her behavior with Andrew set us up to fail, whatever we did! If she hadn’t-“
“It’s no one’s fault but ours,” I cut in. “And I don’t think we did anything wrong. We had good intentions, and it was only sensible to be sure of our feelings before we told her such big news.”
“I thought that too, but I was wrong,” he yelled. “Bryce set me straight. We lied to her, and now she won’t trust us again. All the great work I did rebuilding our relationship in the past couple weeks is ruined. Things will be worse than ever between us now, and Clarissa will love this.”
I turned sharply and stared at him. “When did you get so negative? Oh, my God! And you’re making this all about you, and your ex-wife. Competing with her! When this is about Kayla!”
“Stay out of my business with my daughter!” he snapped, slamming the coffee grinder down on the counter.
I stood suddenly, shaken. I’d thought we were a team, and that perhaps we’d eventually be a family. But it was clear I was way off beam. “Fine,” I said tightly, and hurried from the room.
I crept into me and Mad’s room and just lay on the bed for a while, taking in what had happened. Then, when she woke up, I took a shower, just to feel the flowing hot water on my skin. I got us both dressed and took her out to the park, deliberately starting conversations with other moms to keep my mind off what had just happened. Then I still didn’t want to go back to the apartment, so I took Mads for something to eat at Smokey Joes, just the two of us. That’s how it was going to be – just the two of us – I might as well start getting used to it. I used to go to Smokey Joe’s as a kid and it felt comforting, somehow.
Smokey Joe’s was a family place, full of kids and big tables of multiple generations, and, as soon as I walked in the door, I felt completely at home there. No one would care about Maddy being noisy or messy. It was what the place was all about. Our server, Hayley, made a huge fuss over Mads, which was lovely. She got her a highchair and a coloring book with some fat crayons, and was rewarded with a big squeal, kicking legs and a huge smile. There were stickers to put on a map of the Smokey Joe Treasure Trail, and she even brought a balloon over to her too, when I mentioned that it was her birthday recently.
I had Mad’s baby food with me, and I asked Hayley for some cucumber sticks to go with it. For myself I ordered a Diet Coke, and some curly sweet potato fries to eat while I looked at the menu properly. When I’d come in, it had just been for a place to go. I was so sick about what had happened with Kayla that I hadn’t been able to imagine eating. But as soon as I’d smelled the food I was swamped in nostalgia for my own childhood, and I was suddenly ravenous.
My Coke and fries came, and I ordered a steak with barbecue sauce and a cob of corn, too. Then I settled in, people-watching. A few diners noticed the balloon and came over to wish Maddy a happy birthday, which was super-sweet. She gave them her best, gooey, drooly cucumber-gumming smile. I was smiley and polite, but inside I found myself growing more and more agitated, starting to seethe over Alex and the way he’d spoken to me. The way he’d behaved in general, actually.
I realized I needed to offload to someone, so I called Clare. When she didn’t pick up, I remembered that she was on nights this week. She’d be sleeping, or maybe heading to work by then. I called Mom, but she was at a musical on Broadway tonight with her old friends Dave and Sanjay, I remembered, and staying over at their place overlooking Central Park.
So then… I called Dad.
I don’t know why I did it. I really don’t. I was starting to feel really angry and upset, and maybe I actually wanted an argument. Like finding someone to let off steam on, the steam I wouldn’t allow myself to let off on Alex - the arrogant, self-centered pig and massive neanderthal idiot that he was.
I couldn’t believe it when Dad picked up the phone. He never did that – you always had to leave a message.
I was even more surprised when he said he was in Buffalo – I mean, why the hell didn’t he call me?
I was shocked when he told me he’d be at Smokey Joe’s in a half-hour, and to order him the grilled chicken Caesar salad, if they still did it.
Twenty minutes later, my father was sitting across the table from me, and Hayley was bringing him his salad. Maddy was very surprised about our sudden guest – she hadn’t seen him for six months and didn’t remember who he was. I grimaced as I noticed that she’d bonded more with Hayley in the last half-hour than with her own grandfather in her entire life.
Dad looked around the restaurant with undisguised horror as a toddler’s scream pierced the air. He moved his expensive jacket from the back of his seat as three pre-schoolers chased each other around the table next to us. Then he addressed his salad. “At least there’s something positive about the place,” he said. “They haven’t changed this salad in fifteen years. Hmm, so good.”
“So, you’re in Buffalo?” I said tightly, stabbing into my steak as if it was going to run away.
“Yep. Only for tonight. Back-to-back meetings – but my hotel’s nearby and I was about to eat on my own so…”
Anger and upset boiled just under my surface. I wouldn’t lose my cool in front of Maddy, but underneath I was raging. Why didn’t you tell me you were in town? Why do you never come and see us? Why were you going to eat in a hotel by yourself rather than see if I was free to meet you? Why don’t you have any interest in your own granddaughter whatsoever? He’d hardly even looked at her since he’s arrived.
He pulled out his phone, checked it and put it on the table and I thought I might scream.
Suddenly I wanted him to know about me and Alex. I wanted him to be mad about it.
He picked up his phone, checked it again and that was it. “It’s going well with Alex. Thanks for not asking,” I said. “Very well actually. We’re together.”
He looked up then, lettuce hanging from his fork. “What?”
“We’re together. Like, a couple.”
Maddy chose that moment to screech joyfully about the scribbly red crayoning she was doing. He winced at the noise, and I wanted to kill him dead.
