Second chance christmas, p.3
Second Chance Christmas, page 3
“Please don’t tell me that’s why you’re all disheveled tonight?”
I silenced the call I had received and then turned my attention back to Tierra. “She was so hurt. All she wanted was for her father to be there holding roses for her.”
Tierra took a sip of her wine while shaking her head. “I hate this for her.”
“He misses nearly all of the girls’ events, and I’m the one who has to make an excuse and wipe their tears.”
“How about you stop making excuses for him? I understood why you did it before . . . He was your husband. Just like you have a duty to be the best parent to those girls, he needs to have the same duty.”
I desperately wanted to stop making excuses for Ashton. He made it all too easy to stop making them when he didn’t show up for our children the way that he was supposed to. He was a hero in our girls’ eyes, and I didn’t want to be the person who tarnished that image for them.
Gulping some wine, I cut my eyes at her. “It’s not as easy as you’re trying to make it. Not making excuses means I have to explain more, and the girls will start to hate him.”
“Not hate him . . . They will see that he’s breaking his promises with them. You can’t shelter them from reality, Faith. Eventually, they’re going to figure out things on their own.”
As much as I wanted to disagree with Tierra, I knew she was right. Since the girls were born, I always made excuses for their father’s absence. I often felt guilty about complaining because he was trying to earn a living for us. As an investment banker, it was his job always to be available to his clients. For so long, I tried to be the understanding and supportive wife who stood by her husband.
At first, it was after this promotion, and then he could be more present and not work so many late hours. However, after that promotion, he needed another one so we could take a big family vacation.
When was enough ever going to be enough?
“It’s hard.”
“Only because you didn’t want this divorce. I, more than anyone, know how much you loved your husband and would have fought to keep your family together.”
I would have.
My happiness meant nothing if it meant keeping my family under one roof. I wanted to be the success story that everyone boasted about. All I wanted was for my husband to choose me for once.
Choose us.
Instead, he continued to put his career before our marriage.
Before his children.
Before everything that he ever cared about.
When was it enough?
“I wanted us to work so bad.” I sniffled and took another sip of wine.
Maybe it was the wine that caused me to be more emotional than usual. I wanted my marriage to last, and I wanted my husband.
“I know, baby. I know.” Tierra reached her hand across the table and grabbed my hand. “I also know that you were unhappy in that marriage, and you deserve to be happy.”
The thing about friendship was that you bared your entire soul to that one person. Tierra had witnessed me at my best and worst. She had front-row seats to the destruction of my marriage. I wished it was as easy as Ashton having an affair and leaving me for a younger woman.
That would have been easier.
I almost wished another woman was the problem in our marriage. Maybe then, I could sleep at night knowing I wasn’t the problem within our marriage. As much as I placed the blame on Ashton, I stopped trying. Our sex life had always been the star of our relationship, and it died. The only conversations we had revolved around the girls.
We both stopped trying, but Ashton had stopped way before I did. It seemed like he didn’t care to keep me. All the late hours sure didn’t help our situation either. All I wanted was for my husband to care.
To love me.
Show me that I meant the world to him.
After having two babies at once, I knew my body didn’t look the same as before. I changed because having children did that to you. We both knew that by having kids, things would change and wouldn’t be the same.
We went from living in a skyrise to moving to the suburbs of Atlanta. Our usual dinner dates were put on pause because we had two babies to take care of. When we did have a sitter, I spent all my time wondering what the kids were up to. I had become so wrapped in motherhood that I didn’t make time for him.
I blamed myself for a while.
As the girls became older, I tried to step back into my role as a wife. It never felt the same. I always felt like I was trying too hard, or maybe he wasn’t trying enough. Our date nights were filled with both of us asking useless questions until the check was paid. Even the car rides home were filled with silence.
Not a flirtatious laugh or a touch on my thigh while we waited for the light to turn green.
Nothing.
Ashton couldn’t wait until we walked through the door so he could retire to his office. Work was always the excuse for why he didn’t come to our bedroom until after I was asleep. I would feel him climb into the bed and shove a pillow between us before drifting off to sleep.
Of course, I was never actually asleep.
It was a different feeling when you realized that your husband was no longer in love with you. Ashton didn’t desire me as he once did, which pained me. His eyes used to light up whenever he laid eyes on me. Of course, things weren’t the same as they used to be.
I used to wait up for him in lingerie and couldn’t wait to hear about his day while I slowly undressed him.
That wasn’t realistic with two kids who had so many afterschool activities. I could have tried, though. Life was chaotic, trying to juggle two children while attempting to keep our marriage afloat. If I had to take the blame for one thing, it would be not trying enough for my husband.
“God, I wish he would stop calling me,” I snapped out of my emotional trance and silenced the call—again.
“Who?”
“My father.”
Tierra took another sip of her wine and stared at me before she spoke. She knew my relationship with my father was a complicated one.
One I avoided talking about at all costs.
“Maybe there’s an emergency.”
“He always calls around this time . . . with the holidays approaching. He wants to ask me to come spend the holidays in Sageport.”
“Is that such a bad thing, Faith? Ashton is taking the kids to New York to visit with his parents . . . You’ll be here alone.”
“I don’t want to spend any time in Sageport. There’s a reason I haven’t been back in fifteen years.”
My father had met the girls a handful of times since their birth. Anytime he came into town, he would call and arrange some time so he could see his granddaughters. I could always expect birthday cards in the mail whenever their birthdays arrived. I appreciated the effort he put into maintaining a relationship with them. I didn’t want to face him and explain why I was divorced.
I felt like a failure.
All I had was one job: to keep my family together, and I couldn’t even do that. I had failed to give our children a two-parent household, and I wasn’t ready to admit that to my father.
“You should spend some time with your father. He’s only becoming older . . . You’re going to regret not spending that time with him.”
I should have been more active in knowing about my father’s life. As far as I knew, the restaurant was still doing well, and he had even opened a coffee shop in Sageport. He always sent me pictures via text messages to keep me updated. I hated how he reminded me how all of it would be mine one day.
Nothing in Sageport belonged to me.
When I left there all those years ago, I promised myself that I would never return. There was so much pain, anger, and resentment back in that small town . . . all things that I worked hard to cut out of my memory.
“Not a chance. I was actually thinking of tagging along with Ashton and the girls for the holidays.”
Tierra gasped. “Girl, no. You are now divorced . . . Spending the holidays together is something in the past. His parents don’t want the reminders of their son’s failed marriage in their home.”
“Ouch.” I held my chest.
“I’m just being honest. Ashton would likely have a problem with it too. You’re divorced, and you both agreed to split the holidays for a reason. Call the girls on Christmas morning and then allow him the time with them.”
It was a bitter pill to swallow.
“I’ve spent every holiday with them . . . never missing one. This may be too much for them.”
“The girls are smart. You and Ashton have been splitting custody, so they know what’s to come. Sit down and have a small follow-up conversation with them . . . Don’t go to New York.”
I groaned and drowned my sorrows with more wine. Tierra decided that we both needed to get some food on our stomachs, so she ordered us a bunch of our favorite appetizers that we loved.
“This is all my fault. I’m the one who wanted the divorce, and now, look at me. Sitting here stupid while my husband moves on with his life.”
“Ex-husband,” Tierra corrected me. “You wanted the divorce because your marriage was like beating a dead horse.”
I wanted the divorce because I thought it would trigger something inside of Ash. Trigger something that would make him want to put forth the effort to fight for our marriage. It was a heavy burden to carry when you were doing all the fighting in your marriage. It took two people to make things work, and I was the only one doing the heavy lifting while he got to take the easy way out.
“Something I’m still trying to get used to.”
“I’m not saying you need to get out there and date, but I’m also saying that you should consider his offer and move into something smaller. A fresh start for you and the girls, and you don’t have to live within the walls of your marital home.”
Ash asked if I wanted to sell our home. I refused and was so angry that he even brought it up. This was the home where we brought the girls after their birth at the hospital. Every inch of this home had memories of our girls growing up. The etches in the wood near the pantry told a story of how big our girls had grown over the years. I could have been painted over the crayon marks I kept hidden behind the family room’s couch years ago, but I held that small memory close to my heart.
We would never have these moments with them again.
Why would I want to sell our home? He shouldn’t have wanted to sell our house either . . . Didn’t it mean anything to him? We were happy there once upon a time, and it was those memories that I tried desperately to hold onto.
Ash knew how much our neighborhood meant to me, so he found some houses a few miles away so the girls could remain at their school. I stomped out of his office, angry the day he showed me the listings. The house was the last piece of us that I had.
The one thing that hadn’t changed.
“I’m not moving.”
“Maybe you should.”
The thought of starting over frightened me. Having to start over as a single, divorced mother was the last thing I wanted.
“Girl, drop the subject.”
“Eventually, you’ll have to stop living in the past and move into the present. You and Ash are divorced, and you need to move forward.”
Although I was the one who wanted the divorce, it didn’t hurt any less. I knew I would eventually have to stop living in the past. Things didn’t work out for Ash and me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t push forward and find love again.
I deserved to find love again. One that would cause me to glow from the inside out. The thought of dating again scared me. However, I knew that I needed to get over that. The girls deserved a happy mother, and I was determined to stop pretending for them and actually be happy.
Chapter Three
PAST
FAITH
SICK WAS AN understatement for how I was feeling at the moment.
My father held my hand as we walked into the church and sat in the first pew. This was the most interaction I had with my father since he returned to town. When he found out that my mother passed, he never sobbed or blamed himself. He pulled out a thick binder with all their information inside and started making calls.
He closed the restaurant down while he planned to put my mother into the ground. Every night, I tapped on his office to bring him food, and every night, my knocks were left unanswered.
The silence in the house was unbearable.
All I thought about was how Rome stared at me at the hospital. The look was one I never wished on anyone, not even my worst enemy. When I reached out to talk to him at his house, they hung up the phone on me. Rome didn’t want anything to do with me, and now, my father was giving me the silent treatment.
If my mom wanted me to feel alone in the wake of her death, she certainly accomplished that.
The funeral had to wait until the Atkins had their funeral. The only reason the church allowed my mother’s funeral was because my father had been attending their church for years. He attended every Sunday alone. My mom had stopped attending years earlier and spent her Sundays drinking on the couch.
The church was empty.
I didn’t understand why my father didn’t cremate her and let us move on with our lives. Things were already tense, and the whole town either felt sorry for us or hated us. I couldn’t show my face at school because everyone hated me.
It was hard to focus on finishing out my senior year when I was referred to as “the girl whose mom killed Allen Atkins.” Thankfully, I was allowed to finish my studies at home, which was no better. The silence was so loud that I found it impossible to concentrate on my schoolwork. The only sounds I heard were my father’s office door opening and closing. He never came out to check in on me or make small talk.
I lost a parent.
Shouldn’t my mental well-being be a concern too? I never received a hug or kiss on the forehead while promising me that things would be all right. All I got was slammed office doors and small sticky notes for things Dad needed me to do.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Carl.” Mrs. Brenda came and touched my father’s hand. “I have a casserole that I will bring over later this evening.”
It was far too late for a casserole. My mother had been dead for two weeks, and now, she wanted to bring a casserole over? It was a nice gesture, but I couldn’t help but think how many she had sent over to the Atkins’s home.
“I appreciate it, Brenda.” He patted her hands back and offered a weak smile.
The funeral was a waste of the church’s time and our money. Nobody showed up, and I knew that would be the outcome. My mother, Kimba Stone, caused a young boy to lose his life because she decided to get behind the wheel of a car drunk.
Drinking had always been more important to her than anything else. Especially me. I was the constant reminder of her never being able to exit out of Sageport. I used to beg my mother to love me and show me that I meant something to her, and she never could.
It was like she was physically blocked from showing me any love or caring for me. She left the responsibility to my father to handle everything that had to do with me. It was the reason I overapplied myself for everything I was involved in.
If I got good grades, maybe then she would love me.
Maybe if I cheered on the cheerleading squad, that might open up her heart to me. In my heart of hearts, I tried more than my mother had. It was how she stared at me, as if trying to figure me out. It wasn’t how a mother looked at their only child. It was how a reverend stared at a demon spawn.
“Why did we even have a funeral for her at the church? Mom hated the church and hadn’t attended for years.” I broke the silence the moment we stepped into the house.
Daddy tossed his keys on the foyer table. “Your mother was raised in the church . . . So she should go out being blessed in one.”
“Blessed in a church? We’re lucky it didn’t burn to bits with all the sinning she has done. Did you forget Allen lost his life? The Atkins had to bury their youngest son because of her.”
He clenched his teeth as if this was something that had been replaying in his head the moment he found out about my mother dying. I watched as he walked into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
“You don’t think I know that? I sent my condolences and flowers to their home. I feel horrible for what Kimba did. Sitting here pointing the finger won’t bring either of them back.”
“Rome won’t even talk to me. They told me to stop calling their phone.”
“Maybe you should.”
I was too stunned to speak. How could he sit there and say that I should stop reaching out to the love of my life? Rome meant the world to me . . . more than this stupid small town did. I wanted forever with him, and it was something we were once determined to have together.
“I’m glad she’s dead!” I screamed.
My father’s head snapped toward me, and he gripped his glass of water tightly. “Watch your words, Faith.”
“No. Nothing has ever been mine since the day I was born to that fucked-up woman. She has resented me since the day I was born, and you allowed it. Rome was someone for me . . . someone that I loved, and she had to rip that away from me!”
“You selfish bitch.”
I gasped and stared at my father.
“Guess I get it from the woman you married, huh?”
“I’m . . . I’m fucking trying, Faith. I’m trying to put together these pieces your mother left behind. Everything is in jeopardy—everything!” He slammed the glass onto the table, and it shattered, cutting his hand in the process.
I abandoned the counter I was leaning on and rushed to the kitchen drawer for the first aid kit and rubbing alcohol. Reluctantly, he allowed me to take his hand and clean out the glass before bandaging it up.
“I’m sorry, Faith.” He apologized.
“It’s all right, Daddy,” I replied. “We’re both feeling a lot of emotions and unsure of what’s next. I can work at the restaurant if you need me to.”
He stopped my hand and stared me in the eyes. “When you graduate, get out of here . . . Go live your life far away from Sageport, Faith. You don’t deserve to sit and clean up the mess your mother has made of our lives . . . This is not your fault.” He used his free hand to touch my face.
