Page 8 of Embers in Our Past

The sound of the rain hitting my apartment window brings back memories of my first place with Clay in Boston. When memories like these pop into my head, it’s hard for me not to think about what he’s doing right now and what we would be doing if I were with him and still his wife.

I look down at my phone, and it’s only then I realize the date. Oh my gosh. Our friends—Ashton and Samara—got married today. I completely let it slip my mind. Since I left Clay, I distanced myself from everyone in our friend group. I took the initiative to pull away from anyone he was friends with first. I wanted to take the awkwardness out of the equation and ensure no one felt obligated to choose between us.

I was always friends with Samara because it was easy to be close to someone as sweet as her, but it would be strange to stay friends since her husband has been friends with Clay since they were in kindergarten. I never wanted to put her in a bad spot once Clay and I were divorced. I’d seen it with other couples who had divorced, making others pick sides. I knew it would be difficult. I simply pulled myself out of the equation altogether.

Still, it’s hard not to feel heaviness in my stomach when people I shared so many memories with are celebrating a huge moment, and I’m missing it. I feel like this is one of the first big parts of their lives I won’t be there to witness. One of many memories that Clay will start to build without me. I feel a tear fall down my cheek.

I finish making my tea, grab my blanket off the back of the couch, and pull it over my legs. I scroll through one of the streaming services to find a sappy rom-com. Hopefully, I can lose myself in something lighthearted to keep my mind from drifting to thoughts of my life in Boston.

I finally find a movie and relax enough to pull myself into it, but soon, my thoughts drift to Marissa’s conversation at lunch. It’s hard not to overanalyze what she had to say, and her words sink farther into my mind.

She’s not wrong that moving here may have been a huge mistake. I thought it would have been different for me emotionally. I thought I would have felt a huge shift by now, but it didn’t even provide the Band-Aid for my heart that I originally thought it would. I saw my life moving forward differently once I settled, but nothing seemed to move forward the way I planned it, I guess.

I’m distracted by my mental spiral when my phone chimes, and I pick it up to see a name across my screen that I haven’t seen in quite some time.

Clay

No matter how hard I tried, every turn led to thoughts of you today

CHAPTER 3

Clay

I stareat the text I just sent to Abby and wonder why I did that. I can’t even blame the alcohol because I only had a few drinks hours ago. I don’t see the little dots in return, but I know she’s up. She was always my little night owl, working away on her computer endless hours into the night.

Abby Nichols is my kryptonite. In reality, I should get used to saying Abby Morris because that’s her name again. She’s back to her maiden name, and it about kills me that’s our reality. She’s back to her previous life, a life I never thought she’d return to. She spent our entire relationship telling me how hard she worked to start a life away from California, only to walk right back to it when things got hard between us.

It stings to feel like she threw out everything we had between us the moment things got hard. I’ve heard it time and time again from couples trying to conceive that relationships can crumble. I’ve listened to it and quickly ignored it. I never imagined we wouldn’t last and believed we were invincible. I ignored so many forums that talked about the difficulties other families faced when they constantly dealt with infertility month after month.

As much as I wanted a baby, I wanted Abby more, and I’ll admit that’s still the case. I think what hurts is that the longer I live without her, the truth remains that Abby wanted a baby more than she wanted me. I wasn’t enough for her. I was not the piece to her puzzle in the end.

She thought she knew what was best for me and made a huge decision about our marriage alone. And I’m more pissed about that the longer I’m left to simmer with that information.

How can I still love someone and nearly hate them at the same time? That’s the emotional turmoil I’m faced with in this divorce. I constantly walk this line of anger and love when I think of my ex-wife. She is someone I wish I could spend forever with and forget about all in the same breath.

I’m about to click out of the text thread when I see the three dots appear:

Abby

How was the wedding?

I feel like an absolute loser that I respond without waiting even an entire minute, betraying how desperate I am to speak to her. I also decide this is not the time to tell her about Samara and Ashton’s baby news.

Perfect. The way I would expect Samara’s wedding to look. Ash’s smile was constant. You were missed.

Abby

I miss everyone too. Glad it was a nice time. I bet they are both really happy. Did Kennedy trip your brother down the aisle?

No, thank goodness. I swear I thought she was going to poison his drink at one point. The way they both push each other’s buttons, I’m not sure they’re going to take each other out or go at it like rabbits.

Abby

Ha! Yeah, I could see that. Well, it’s raining like crazy here. It never rains in California, and the one day I make plans, it’s a nightmare for my hair.

Oh yeah? Hot date?

I’m a glutton for punishment. We haven’t spoken in months, and I’m torturing myself with this line of texting.

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