Page 14 of Just My Ex

So close. I’d gotten the hang of things. I liked my work—loved it at times. And now I feel like a college dropout. I can’t even explain to my former department why I quit or where I am. They only know there was a “family emergency.” And there’s really nothing more to do now that the students I’ve been helping have all been divvied up and my files transferred.

Navie pops up onto my lap, her face filling the screen. She’s smashed several small stuffed animals, all puppies, under one arm. I’ve lost track of how many there are, but we had to bring the whole litter with us to Longdale. She reaches out to click on something, making a goofy grin.

I mute myself and stop her hand, nuzzling her close. “Navie, go grab some books from Sebastian’s shelf. He has a bunch of picture books for you. You can lie on the big bed and read.”

There’s only one bed, and I haven’t yet told her she’ll be sharing it with me. She’s gonna be stoked about that because even though she likes her big girl bed, she’s been extra clingy since the divorce.

I don’t know why. Henry wasn’t around much before, either.

She was two when we split up. She doesn’t even remember when we were married.

She wiggles down from my lap, and I hear her little feet patter on Sebastian’s nice hardwood floor to the bookshelf. She starts to pile up picture books in her arms, and I turn my attention back to the meeting.

But it’s hard to focus. I can’t believe I’m here. Again. At the Tate’s resort. Everything reminds me of Henry, even though I’ve never actually been here with him.

“Does anyone have any questions for Quinn before we end the meeting?” Mrs. Nash, my now-former supervisor, says to the group. “We wish things were ending differently …” She pauses, and I wonder if she’s rethinking her decision to basically tell me that either I stay at work or resign. From the sour set of her mouth, I’m guessing not.

I don’t blame her. I just wish it wasn’t all going down this way, and that I could explain to my coworkers that I’m not just being a calloused jerk—that quitting had to do with mine and my daughter’s safety.

I hate keeping secrets. From anyone. Withholding information leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

And yes, to Henry’s point, I knew going into the marriage that being married to someone in the military would require that I adopt a certain distance from his job. I knew what I was signing up for and I did it willingly—gladly. I just thought things would be different when he retired. Even though I knew about the NDA with the security company, and I appreciate how honorable the job is, it just all felt so … hard. Especially with his emotional distance and the PTSD he couldn’t even understand he had.

“We’ll miss you, Quinn!” a coworker offers, waving and smiling. “And good luck with … whatever’s going on!”

“Thanks,” I say, willing myself to put on a brave face. “I apologize about the timing of all of this—"

Mrs. Nash nods. “Best of luck to you in your future endeavors.” Before I can even respond to that, the call ends.

My future endeavors? I can barely imagine what those are. I’m hoping the will can be settled soon and I’ll have the money in my accounts. Raymond knows Grandpa stipulated that if anyone successfully contested the will, the money would automatically go to Alcoholics Anonymous. And that’s been his endgame all along, I think. If he can’t convince me to gift him some or all of it once it’s legally mine, then the next best thing? Besmirch my character so that it’s declaimed and I don’t get anything. Better it go to AA than me, he feels. And in the end, if none of that works, I’m guessing Raymond simply wants me to not enjoy becoming a million and some change richer—that if he can add a seed of guilt, I somehow won’t enjoy it.

I massage my temples, forcing myself to breathe out the toxic thoughts, then pick up my phone to text Oakley. She’s engaged to Alec, Sebastian’s brother, and they both work here at the resort. When Sebastian told her this morning I was on my way, she texted me immediately, offering her condolences that things weren’t going well and saying she can help with Navie while we’re here.

I have to run on the beach. Running fills the well unlike anything else in my life and I discovered when I was here a few months ago that the beach surrounding Longdale Lake is my happy place. It was fall, so it wasn’t warm and sunshiny like Irvine, but there was something about the way the water moved that filled me with such an amazing high, a sense that things were okay.

I crave that now.

So I either need to run or sleep. Like a bear in a cave. For a very long time.

I climb in bed next to Navie, read her several picture books, then change into my running clothes—a blousy T-shirt in dark green and espresso-colored high-rise leggings. I keep thinking of things at the house that I’d meant to grab, like my hair dryer, Navie’s toy trucks … I even forgot my journal at the house, which makes me itchier than almost anything else.

What if Raymond reads my journal?

Oakley arrives, gives me a big hug, and gets right on the floor with Navie as they play with the dollhouse Sebastian made her.

“Thank you,” I tell her. And I mean it. The fact that Navie has so many people who love and care about her makes this doable.

I need to think about dinner. I really should drive into town and get us some groceries. Sebastian’s kitchen, though small, is super nice with high-end appliances. It might be fun to cook in there. And I should get a bathing suit for Navie since I forgot to grab hers.

There’s so much to do when you uproot your life to get away from your unstable uncle.

I leave Oakley and Navie, head out of the suite, down all five flights of stairs, and out the back of the resort to the beach. My shoes striking the sand gives me that calming drumming sensation I’ve been waiting for.

With every stride, the fears and worries start to calm. I breathe in the salty, briny air, fresh from the spring runoff of melting snow. I pass thickets and tangles of brush as the water laps at my feet. The sand is uneven, it’s wild beach now, but I like the challenge of lifting my heavy foot every step. Something about it feels right.

Iamglad I came here. As much as I don’t want to be a mooch or take advantage of the Tates’ kindness, I’m glad I’m here to figure out my next steps. I’ll file the protective order, reach out to the estate attorney to let him know I’m here, and then figure out how to be able to go back home to California and feel comfortable in my own home again.

Sudden footfalls behind me catch me off guard and I throw my hastily ponytailed hair back out of my face as I look back.

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