Page 31 of Embers in Our Past

I clear my throat, hoping to clear the frog that’s trying to creep up.

“I appreciate you saying that. Thank you. I’ve, um, been thinking about your mom. How is she?” I ask.

“Oh, now that I'm dating Kennedy, she won't stop bugging me to propose to her. She's been loving having her around. Though I think her favorite family member is still Lola.” He rolls his eyes.

Lola was still more puppy than adult when I saw her last. She was stealing River’s shoes and chewing anything she could.

“I bet Lola is much bigger now. Please give your mom my love,” I tell him. Mary was always so kind and loving when I was part of the family.

“I definitely will.” I notice how he doesn’t tell me to come by and see her. A part of me hurts knowing I won’t get to see her, but that’s the pain of divorce.

“Listen, I should go. Kennedy cooks like she’s feeding fish in the ocean. The girl doesn’t understand the concept of measuring salt. So, I need to get home and make dinner. It was good seeing you, and I appreciate you talking to me. I hope with time things will settle down some. Take care.”

I nod but don’t say much else. He’s grabs the wrapped-up meat the butcher put on the counter a while ago. River nods and walks past me. I stand there a while, processing everything that transpired. It’s hard to navigate divorce, even though I’m the one that asked for it. It continues to have highs and lows even after time passes.

In our case, I didn’t leave because I lost my love for the person I married. I simply feared he’d lose his love for me. But I ran away. It’s something I’m working on in therapy. I can’t really turn back the hands of time, so I’ll keep doing the work and hopefully not make the same mistake twice if I ever get the chance at love again.

CHAPTER 11

Abby

It doesn’t matterhow many times I redesign this site, the company isn’t happy. I may need to step away and come back to it because I’m starting to get frustrated. Luckily, I’ve got some time, and I’m only working because I have nothing else to do. I’ve been feeling under the weather lately—this Boston cold already something I am ill-adjusted to—so I’m in my sweats and eating some soup, hoping to feel better before the week ahead.

I’m about to turn on some mindless television when I get a call from reception.

“Hello, Ms. Morris?”

“Yes, this is she.”

“You have a guest down here by the name of Kennedy Sparen asking to see you.”

I wasn’t expecting to see Kennedy. I’ve always known her because of Sam. They are the closest of friends. Because of Clay’s relationship with Ash, I tagged along, and, in that time, I befriended Kennedy through Sam. I loved spending time with her, and we always had a great laugh. They always welcomed me in their friendship, never making me feel like an outcast, and the two of them always included me in their little jokes. But I never hung out with Kennedy alone. I can’t even think of a time we were ever in the same room together without our other friends.

Although Sam reached out when she found out I was back in Boston, I haven’t seen her yet. She has asked if I’ll come visit, but I finally came clean regarding how difficult it would be due to some of my struggles to become pregnant. I know she’s in the stage of becoming a new mother, and I don’t want to taint this beautiful time for her. I have to be honest with my own feelings that self-care is important. I was straightforward with her, and the truth didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Giving her the cold shoulder would be harder, and she was more receptive than I thought.

She was understanding and kind to my situation. Even though Sam and Ash were aware of our fertility struggles prior to the divorce, I never went into much detail. I felt it was such a private matter, and, in some ways, I was a little embarrassed. I decided to shed that layer of skin and let that vulnerability shine through as I spoke to my old friend.

This is a “me” problem, and I’ve stayed consistent with my therapy sessions here in Boston. I should have seen someone the minute I started my IVF journey because it would have saved Clay and me a lot of headaches in our marriage. I know I can’t undo the damage I’ve caused in the past, but what I do from this point forward is what’s important. I’m aware of that now. The way I view my fertility journey from this moment on can be more positive, including my journey through welcoming my friends in on how my fertility struggles have impacted me. Including Sam in on this was a huge step in the right direction.

I hear Leonard’s throat clear on the line, pulling me from my thoughts.

“Oh, yeah, you can let her up,” I tell him, then hang up the phone.

The moment I disconnect, I look around, processing the mess of my apartment. I have junk everywhere, my apartment looking more like a junkyard than living quarters. I quickly start running around, picking up the take-out ramen I have thrown about, along with the random books and magazines I’ve let pile around. I haven’t even taken a look in the mirror and just hope for the best when there’s a knock at the door.

I look down to find a stain on my shirt and roll my eyes at myself. I should have spent the time changing my clothes instead of cleaning the apartment, but she’ll just have to deal with the mess that I am. She caught me off guard.

I open the door to the woman who looks like a cover model. Kennedy Sparen is the woman I want to be when I grow up. Too bad we are the same age.

The minute she takes me in, she winces. “Sam didn’t tell you I was coming, did she?” she says in lieu of a greeting.

“Um, no?” I respond, more as a question than a statement.

“Damn her and that new-mom brain,” she huffs out.

“She had the babies?” I ask in complete shock. I had no idea, but I also haven’t checked in for a bit.

“Oh my gosh, yes! It’s been a crazy few weeks. The day she had the babies, River got injured, and it’s been a bit chaotic. Everyone is fine though. Sam is great, exhausted, of course, and the babies are wonderful. Doing well and discharged from the NICU. I have pictures if you want to see. I have many because Ash thinks every angle of a photo makes a difference.” She laughs.

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