Page 3 of Second Round

“Lick your lips. You have paint on your mouth. In fact, you have paint on your cheek, too.” His own lips curled indisgust.

I flushed and rubbed the side of my face. But since I had no idea where the paint was and it was probably dry, there was really no point. I mentally kicked myself. I was certifiable for even considering that something might be going onbetweenus.

The solid figure of Margaret flashed into my mind. She was not unattractive, but she had quiet, forgettable looks. “You’re way better-looking,” so many women had reassured me after meeting her, as if that were the only important thing. I was the only woman in the universe whose husband had left her and moved onto someone less attractive. While that might seem comforting on the surface, it had led people to speculate on what horrible things must be wrong with me. If Margaret were a young, blonde Barbie doll, everyone would have understood that it was all about sex. But Brent and I had a normal married sex life, at least from what I’d gleaned from comparisons with my girlfriends. Besides, if Brent wanted more sex, he would have asked for it. That was his personality. So, if it wasn’t sex, what was the problem? Last week, I took a quiz calledTen Signs Your Marriage is in Trouble, and we had only checked off twoofthem.

“Earth to Jackie,” Brent interrupted. “Can you please pay attention? This isimportant.”

“Oh, sorry.” I trained my eyes backonhim.

“Look, when we finalized the divorce, we agreed that you and the kids could continue to live here for the timebeing.”

“Yes. Staying here with all their friends and the same school has really worked out well.” That was one thing I’d prided myself on. I had completely minimized the disruption in Hannah and Tristan’s lives. Except for the absence of their father, our home life was exactlythesame.

“Sure. But it’s been a couple of years since I left, so they’ve had lots of time to adjust. Anyhoo, Vancouver’s real estate market is pretty overheatedrightnow.”

I waited. Brent had his lecture voice on, so I knew better than tointerrupt.

“A real estate bubble is like a game of musical chairs. When the music stops, you don’t want to be the one without achair.”

“So, we’ll hold on to thehouse?”

Brent shook his head. “No, no, no. We need to make sure we get the money out while prices are high. We don’t want to be left holding on to the house once its valuegoesdown.”

“Oh, because in musical chairs, the goal is to be left with something,” Ipointedout.

“Well, perhaps my analogy wasn’t perfect, but you don’t have to actobtuse.”

I widened my eyes in mock surprise. When he got huffy, he used big words. Like I couldn’t be offended if he called me obtuse instead of stupid. Sure, I knew exactly what he meant in the first place, but I hated when he explained things to me like I was five years old. Besides, my point was that I didn’t want to move. I had worked hard on this house, and I loved it. The kids loved it too. “But if we sell the house where are the kids and I goingtolive?”

“You’ll get half the proceeds from the sale. You can buy a new place.” Brent made that task seem likenothing.

“I don’t want to move.” My voice sounded whiny even tomyears.

“Jackie, I’ve been more than generous. Most husbands would have insisted that we liquidate all our assets when the divorce was finalized, but instead I’ve continued to pay the mortgage as well as childsupport.”

The mortgage payments were in lieu of alimony and not out of the goodness of your heart, I thought but didn’t say. “But we agreed… staying here would be best for the kids.” Tristan had been hit hardest when Brent left. For the first six months, our son had to see a therapist who had recommended keeping his school and home life stable to minimize the stresses inhislife.

“Surely you didn’t think you’d continue to live here until Tris graduated from high school. He’s much better now, and if you have to move, this is the perfect time. Hannah has a year left before high school, so she can make new friendseasily.”

“But they’ve lived in West Van their wholelives.”

“If staying here is so important to you, maybe you need to getajob.”

“I have a job.” I worked in an art supply store. Now was probably not the time to let Brent know my hours had been cut way back sinceChristmas.

“A real job. Not a minimum wage job that’s onlypart-time.”

Like Margaret’s job. She was some kind of business consultant or so I’d gleaned from LinkedIn. But if I had a full-time job, who would get the kids to school? Who would stay home with Tristan when he had an upset stomach because of things going wrong? Who would chauffeur everyone to their after-schoolactivities?

I placed my hands flat on the table and noticed that my fingernails were edged with black. “But if we sell and I only get half, I won’t be able to afford to live in this neighbourhood anymore.” Our home was lovely, but it was one of the smaller places to begin with and we had only a single lot. Maybe I’d be able to find a rental townhouse, but that wasn’t the same thing. My parents always said that owning a home was the best investment youcouldmake.

Brent nodded. “Yeah. But you know, moving might not be the worst thing in the world. The kids always have a great time downtownwithme.”

Maybe. Raising your kids in a city condo was a trend, but not one I had ever imagined doing. I grew up in the suburbs, surrounded by trees, big yards, and friendly neighbours. But so many of my expectations had changed. Maybe this was one more. There was a huge lump in my throat. The kids were downstairs, laughing as they played some computer game. A curl of anger rose up. We all loved this home. Maintaining our normal home life was the one accomplishment I’d prided myself on, and now Brent was takingthataway.

“Why is this happening now? It can’t be just about the real estate market. The homes around here have been rising in value—despite someone saying every year that itcan’tlast.”

He looked down at the marble countertop. “Well, I’ve seen a condo development downtown that I think would be a good investment for me. I need to free up money for the down paymentonthat.”

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