Page 16 of Ella Gets the D
“Our kids watch videos of other kids playing Minecraft on repeat.” Morgan’s fingertips graze the side of her hair that’s slicked over her shoulder. Between the threat of humidity in the air and our gushing over Grier and Mateo’s mating ritual, it’s a wonder her edges haven’t curled to life. “If you told me you were having bunion surgery tomorrow, I would still come out to celebrate if it meant a moment to myself that doesn’t involve a toilet.” She lifts her margarita glass with a goofy grin and tries to lick off the salted rim, mimicking lazy head in slow motion.
That’s it. We’re cut off.
“You also have the longest relationship between the three of us,” I say. “You and Mateolikeeach other after nineteen years. Teach us your ways, o’ wise one.”
We bow at Grier, who shakes her head and laughs. “Believe me when I say I’m no expert on love. But I will say you have to be with someone you enjoy as a person. Someone who challenges you to be the best version of yourself and loves you through your worst.”
Grier tells us she and Mateo met in a law library during their second year of law school. Hours of books between them turned into an engagement by the end of the fall semester anda traditional Mexican ceremony over spring break. Mateo, who comes from a long line of Black and Indigenous Veracruzanos, lived in Mexico until he came to the States for college. He’s one of four kids and sent back what he could to help his family. Mateo and Grier moved up their wedding when his grandfather got sick. He died months after the ceremony.
“Enough about me.” Grier smacks my leg. “Tonight is about you, Slayer of Charles the Cheat and Lady of the DMV. We still have a journey ahead of us, but tonight”—she raises her glass—“we celebrate your separation agreement.”
My thumb moves to twist the ring that’s now absent from my finger. What I wouldn’t give to take a girls’ trip to a warm beach with no six-o-clock wake-up call to get the kids ready for a long day of activities.
“The countdown is on for me to find a new job and house.” I blow out a hard breath to force down all of the pitfalls now playing in my mind like coming attractions. There’s too much going on right now to focus on what I want. “Ninety days isn’t long, and I don’t know where to start.”
Is there an app to help discarded spouses get their lives together? Can I swipe right for a reset that doesn’t include sleepless nights? The cost of living around here is enough to make me sob. I don’t want to move back to Ohio, but I will if it gives my babies stability.
Morgan snaps her fuchsia-lacquered fingers. “I almost forgot!” She digs through her designer Mary Poppins bag of goodies, on a mission. She once pulled out a half-eaten grilled cheese sandwich, plastic vampire teeth, vitamins, and a soccer ball. There’s a chance my next home is at the bottom of that bag.
“What are these?” I frown at the silver keys she puts in my hand. Does she want me to drive us home?
“Keys to your new house.”
“My what?”
“Townhouse, to be exact.”
My back hits the rattan chair with a thud. When I said my new house was at the bottom of her purse, it was a joke. I stare at the simple ring holding two keys that are an answer to my problems—and a gift I can’t accept. “I don’t have a house, Morgan. I share yours, remember?” Did she forget I took an eleven-year hiatus from my career? I have six suitcases between me and my kids, an SUV my ex won’t fight me to keep, and a savings account that gives me the finger on the daily.
When did I have the timeorthe money to get a townhouse?
“You need a place to live, and that’s a family property that’s available until the end of December. It’s not a year, but it will get you to the end of this one with some breathing room so you can save up. Don’t look at me like that.”
If Ms. Thelma is my fairy godmother with a knight in shining power suit for a daughter, Morgan is…there are no words.
I’m speechless.
We met three years ago, when Jackson and Duke were in preschool. I was new to Falls Church after Charles moved us from Boston faster than I could find the packaging tape. I had no friends and only my in-laws in the area until I met Morgan. We volunteered to decorate our sons’ class for the holidays. I spent hours making construction-paper decorations to string from the ceiling. Morgan found a sad tree branch, wrapped the base in a blanket, and hung a red bulb from the dying needles.A Charlie Brown Christmaswas the extent of her craftiness.
Morgan comes from a prominent DC family, in case that wasn’t obvious with the spare house (but not the half-dead holiday decor). She flexes her Whitley Gilbert ways as the corporate art buyer for her father’s international law firm. Outside of the occasional pair of jeans, she doesn’t dress casually and lives the fancy life without apology.
Take tonight. Morgan came out for drinks in a high-waisted black jumpsuit with ruffled sleeves, a plunging neckline, and clear heels with rhinestones. Knowing her, they’re diamonds. She never looks less than a million bucks or misses the opportunity to show off her petite Pilates curves. It’s a far cry from her backyard Minecraft party look, but that’s Morgan. High-end fashion all the way.
And this was a last-minute outfit, by the way.
If I didn’t have to meet my cheating ex, best believe I would be in jeans, a long-sleeve shirt, andmaybestrappy heels to look like I tried. Sweatpants, a concert tee, and a messy top knot is my outfit of choice when I’m not keeping up with this one.
Morgan and I are polar opposites, minus our ability to not take ourselves too seriously.
I reach for the check but come up short. Morgan looks at the receipt and says, “Careful, El. Your thoughts will give you a migraine as loud as they are.”
“Morgan. I can’t accept it.” I hand back the keys at the same time Grier yanks at the check.
We both get a smack.
“Hey! Tonight is on Mateo.” Grier rubs her knuckles.
Morgan shakes her head. “It’s celebration of Ella and the gymnastics you and your man will do in that happy marriage of yours.” The server takes Morgan’s card at her nod. “It’s not up for debate, counselor.”
