Page 4 of Ella Gets the D
My armor stayed in place during the thirteen-minute ride to Duke’s birthday party. Me, myself, and I belted out an endless loop of Mary J. Blige hits to ward off the drama in my life. It didn’t work. But if anyone knows how to deal with a lying, no-good, ashy man and bounce back with a shoulder shrug, it’s the Queen of Hip-Hop Soul.
Morgan kept the festivities low-key with a backyard gathering for her son’s first-grade class and friends. Like me, she never understood the need to rent out a ballroom or a theater to entertain an unruly group of tiny people who still struggle to tie their shoes. They have a palate for Lunchables, not seasonal hors d’oeuvres.
Blue, green, and gray streamers flowed from the lone tree in Morgan’s front yard. Her Cape Cod-style home reflected the cheerfulness of spring with its white bricks and yellow shutters. A trail of pastel-colored tulips lined the paved walkway to the backyard, where laughter mixed with the sunlight.
Silver foil balloons that spelled “Duke” hung on the wooden swing set next to the shed, formerly known as Joseph Catlett’sart studio. With Morgan’s ex-husband out of the picture, there was no longer a need to house him or his assortment of paints. The two have been blank canvases for years but make the perfect family portrait as co-parents.
The seven-year-old of the hour sat with my son and friends at one of the picnic tables sprinkled between the Minecraft building blocks across the yard, his black frohawk and fresh fade on the sides peeking through his paper crown. Jackson stationed himself beside him in a matching green polo and jeans, consumed with the assorted party favors on the table, as evidenced by his lip between his teeth. Haile, my baby girl, watched her big brother sift through slap bracelets and crazy straws with wide eyes, a juice box dangling from her mouth, and a turkey sandwich in her hand.
I’m grateful my kids get along. Well, as much as you can hope for siblings two years apart.
The setup was perfect, the day light and full of laughter. Morgan transformed her yard into a Pinterest-worthy Minecraft realm. Between Duke’s existing collection of toys and her fleet of extra tables and chairs she keeps for family get-togethers, she only needed a little for her outdoor oasis to come alive.
A small crowd of adults gathered under her cedar pergola, far from the screams of little ones racing after each other but close enough to keep a watchful eye. Morgan just installed a minibar, and luckily there was a stash of her special lemonade that contained more than just juice.
For a moment, I allowed myself to tear the weight of divorce from my shoulders for a slice of cake and the chance to hit one of the four piñatas.
The cake was tasty. The piñata triggered a beatdown of epic proportions.
Death by bludgeoning was the fate of the papier-mâché creeper. The poor guy had no chance after my stick collided withhis face over and over again. Both of us were hollow on the inside—only my center lacks Starbursts and Tootsie Pops.
My life is unraveling faster than each strand of tissue paper that flew through the air with every hit to that lifeless face. In less than half an hour, I went fromOops, I forgot Duke’s gifttoTime to leave my marriage.
The morning was a regular Saturday, with me rushing to put breakfast in the kids’ bellies and Charles kissing me on the cheek with the same mouth he used on the mistress for God knows how long after he left the house to catch a flight he clearly wasn’t on.
A business trip.
Thwack.
His fifth in three months.
Of course he cheated. The signs were there. Late nights. Extended trips. He chooses theone dayI’m sprinting from place to place with the kids to bring another woman into our home? Could he really not wait until hotel check-in to commit adultery? He had to defile our family living space?
Thwack.
You worry too much, Ella.
It’s your job to take care of the house.
Thwack.
Just figure it out; you always do.
Being the only active parent in this relationship for so long forced me to think fast and ignore my need for support. It wasn’t always like this, but Charles’s selfishness shouldn’t have been surprising. Yet, color me baffled at the new level of disrespect. I’m too fucking old for the games.
I thought about leaving, but I felt stuck, and I justified staying with excuse after excuse. Sixteen years together, fourteen married, is a long time. It’s natural to question whether you’ll go the distance, but the truth is, I had questions I pushed down for too long.
Years wasted trying to keep everything together for the children for an asshole who keeps a mistress on standby.
Never!
Thwack.
Again!
Thwack, thwack, thwack.
Dark brown eyes widened when my fists pounded into the lifeless form. Minus the slow headshake and raised brow, Morgan was every bit the model for suburbia. Her green and white tweed blazer paired perfectly with the distressed mom jeans we bought at Target. Tortoiseshell glasses framed her rich chocolate skin.
