Page 42 of Mr. Broody

I think it’s the first time I really realized what opposite lives we’ve been living the last three years. He’s been building a family, and I… well… haven’t. It feels as if I was left behind, even though I wasn’t. I made my choices and Henry made his.

“I forgot to ask how Eloise’s dress fitting went,” she says, her eyes still on her book, pretending as if she isn’t trying to bait me into a conversation about why I’m staring out the window more than at the television.

“Weird actually.”

Eloise called me this morning and said it was just cold feet and the fact that no one else was there with us. That once she met up with Tristan, her fears went away, and she knew she was being ridiculous. I’m not sure I believe her, but I’ll talk to her again in a few days. I didn’t tell her what happened with Henry and me because I think she has enough going on these days. But that just leaves me with Mom to talk about why my head is a mess.

“How so?” Mom slides her bookmark between the pages and shuts the book, giving me all her attention.

“She says she’s fine now, but she froze when she saw herself in the wedding dress.”

“She’s been with him for a while, right?”

I nod. “For, like, two years.”

“Huh. Check in with her again, I guess. That’s your job as the maid of honor. God knows, mine never asked me,” she says the last sentence under her breath.

“I was your maid of honor,” I say.

“The second time, sweetie. Not the first.”

I knew, but I figured if we got onto the tangent of her marriage to my father, she wouldn’t try to needle me into spilling everything I have on my mind. Even though I really want to talk to someone about all these uncontrolled emotions plaguing me, I wanted an unbiased person. Mom has her thoughts about my relationship with Henry.

“And how’s teaching going? I heard you have Bodhi in your class.”

When Reed came home that first day, I drilled him hard as to why he would suggest I teach a class Henry’s son was in. His pale white face said that Henry was right, it had slipped Reed’s mind that Henry was changing Bodhi’s school this year. I’m sure he and Mom had some extensive conversation afterward.

“It’s going all right. Bodhi’s adorable and way more organized than a six-year-old should be.”

She laughs. “One time I caught him throwing away all the broken crayons. When I asked him why, he said you can’t see their tips in the box. When I suggested we get a container to put them all in instead of trying to put them in the original box the exact way they came, he looked at me like I was the boogeyman.” She giggles again. “But he’s Henry’s son, so do we really expect any different?”

I don’t remember Henry being that organized at Bodhi’s age. Every morning, Bodhi hangs up his bag and his coat while the other kids just toss theirs in their cubbies. When it comes time to change into his shoes for gym class, I caught Bodhi taking a piece of paper from my printer to lay down under his shoes so the floor of the cubby didn’t get dirty.

“He’s a great dad though,” I say.

My mom stares at me long and hard. “I wasn’t implying he wasn’t.”

Henry always seemed to be the one subject where Mom and I misunderstood one another. I always felt like I needed to be Henry’s protector when Mom made sly comments. Or at least that was how I interpreted them.

“Organization is good. Cleanliness is good.” I shrug.

“I never said they weren’t.” She eyes me while her hand rests on her book. At first, I think she’s going to pick it up and end this conversation, but then she lifts her hand off the cover, squares her shoulders, and faces me. “Let’s just hash this out now. The boys are at hockey. We’re all by ourselves.”

My stomach flips. I’m getting tired of having to acknowledge all the elephants in the room. “There isn’t anything to hash out. Henry isn’t part of my life anymore.”

She blows out a breath. “Jade, that boy will always be a part of your life.”

“He’s happy.” My chest gets a little tighter.

“And?”

“And me being here is messing up his happiness.” There. I said it. She can relax now and not worry about me throwing my life away for some guy.

“Is that what you really think?”

“He said as much.”

“Or you heard as much.” She slowly gets up from the couch. “Let’s make lunch.”

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