Page 61 of Just a Number

“Tomorrow. I’ve got a half day. Dad’s going to pick me up.”

There’s a big meeting at work today which requires my physical presence. I get up and dress in my favourite dove-grey trouser suit and a baby pink silk blouse. I gather my laptop and briefcase from the office on my way downstairs and head to the kitchen to make coffee.

Zack retreated to his room last night after his bombshell. I didn’t even see him for dinner. In the end, I’d retreated to my bedroom too, choosing to read an old favourite book to try to take my mind off everything. But as soon as I’d put the book down to sleep, the tears came.

It’s been a while since I cried myself to sleep. Not since the rocky days of my divorce have I sobbed into my pillow. I don’t feel any better for it, but I am grateful for the wonders of a good skincare routine and some make-up to mask my restless night.

As I prepare my breakfast, my gaze is drawn out of the window to the space above the garage. Alex’s space.Should I tell him about Zack leaving?I could really use some comfort, but I’m not sure that’s what we’ve got right now. As I said to Zack, it’s just a fling, isn’t it?

I’ll tell him, but there’s no point waking him early when he probably had a late night working at the bar. I don’t want him to feel bad about it. It’s me that put myself in this situation and now I just need to figure out what I’m going to do next.

There’s a stillness when I let myself in later. It’s often the case that I’m home alone, but this is different.

My nest is empty.

I drop my bag at the bottom of the stairs, sitting to remove my heels. I stay there, listening to the silence.

What the fuck am I doing?

I’ve driven my son away.

The sobs start slow and build until it’s hard to breathe.

Was it really worth it just for a fling?

But then the guilt washes over me. I can’t reduce this thing with Alex to just a few orgasms. He’s been like a breath of fresh air. I was lost before he came along, bumbling my way throughlife after my divorce. Yes, it’s been about sex and passion. But I’m a changed woman from knowing him. He’s shown me that I don’t need to just carry on living to please everyone else. That I can find my own joy. And I think that’s why, when Zack asked, I couldn’t say I was going to end it.

I’ve spent my whole damn life doing what was expected of me: getting married, having a child, building a career, and doing it all with a polite smile plastered on my face. Well, fuck that. I can’t keep trying to live up to some arbitrary societal expectations, not if it makes me unhappy.

Maybe this thing with Alex is just a fling. Perhaps it won’t go anywhere, but I can still treat it like a big reset button on my life. I can move forward from here looking for the things that bring me joy. And I know some of those things will be the very opposite of what the world expects from a forty-year-old divorcee.

I can only hope that Zack will come around and won’t hate me for my choices.

My sobs gradually slow and I swipe the back of my hand across my cheeks. I need a tissue. As I rise to find one, the doorbell rings. I can’t answer it looking like this. I’m a disaster. I tiptoe over to peep through the spyhole.

“Mel?” comes Alex’s shout. “I know you’re there. I saw you pull up.” I draw in a still shaky breath and close my eyes for a second. I can’t ignore him.I grab the door handle and open it slightly, peering through the small crack. The daylight is bright against my swollen eyes and I wince. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is soft and the concern clouding his eyes brings a fresh wave of tears.Have I not already cried enough?

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine. What’s happened?” His hand comes up to the door, and he gives it a gentle push. “Can I come in?” Hehesitates before crossing the threshold. “What do you need?” His question is gentle.

“Zack’s gone,” I blurt out.

“Gone where?” His brows raise with concern.

“He’s gone to stay with his father.” I hiccup with this latest round of tears. “He said he couldn’t be here anymore.”

“Oh, Mel,” is all he says as he draws me into his hug. He holds me tight, rubbing my back in rhythmic circles and making soothing noises. I lay my cheek on his shoulder and give in to the sorrow. It still really fucking hurts, but there’s a comfort from crying in someone’s arms and not sitting by yourself on the bottom stair.

I draw in several big breaths, trying to find some equilibrium. I pull away and stand within the circle of Alex’s arms, raising my eyes to meet his.

“Hey,” I say quietly.

“Hey.” A gentle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m sorry I made a mess of you. You’re all wet now.” My own smile is watery and thin.

“That’s okay. I don’t mind. Why don’t we wash your face?”

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