Page 5 of Ella Gets the D
It’s unclear if she wanted to laugh or call a crisis team for a wellness check.
A high-pitched scream snapped me out of my trance. It took a while to register that said scream came from me, until I took in the gathered crowd and my best friend sizing me up for a straitjacket. It was then I knew I would be responsible for the nightmares of small children if I didn’t get it together.
I blew out a breath to move a strand of hair off my face and stood with the biggest smile I could fake. “Darn! No Snickers!” I said with a laugh. “Oh well. Here’s your candy, kids!”
Little hands dove for the trail of sweet guts spilling from the creeper, buying me enough time to check on my kids again and make small talk with parents. All while dodging Morgan.
Jackson’s curious stare lifted his tiny brows. The sharpness in his light brown eyes was too heavy for a six-year-old to wear. His sister reached over to show him a party favor, pulling his focus back to the picnic table and away from the crime scene his mother created.
I dodged questions about everything from how I’m doing—the breakdown no one knows about aside—to Jackson’s sports schedule. How could I think about baseball when Charles waslikely sliding into a twenty-nine-year-old at that very moment? I also dodged Morgan through a game of tag that put distance between us for fifteen minutes before I made up an excuse to leave.
I was a live wire, and I didn’t want another outburst to happen at a child’s birthday party, of all places.
So I grabbed my kids and ran—kidding. It was more of a frantic speed walk, but it got us to the car in record time. I was clueless about where to go, but I needed to get out of Falls Church, far away from the gossiping bloodhounds who only care about the drama and not the devastation to my family.
I owe Morgan an apology and an explanation, but the wounds of my husband’s betrayal were waiting to crush my chest once the adrenaline wore off.
I had to leave.
There was no way I was going back home, so I hopped on 495 and drove the beltway loop around DC in a daze—twice.
Jackson was silent the entire trip, stealing glances through the rearview mirror that forced me to smear on the mask of a smile I’ve had mastered for years. Haile narrated the highs and lows of the party the entire ride, pausing to ask, “Are we there yet?” every other exit. Her guess was as good as mine. Then the one place no one in Falls Church would find me popped into my mind. Somewhere I could process my life with free childcare.
IKEA.
So that’s where I’ve been for the last forty-five minutes, consumed with endless room possibilities on a budget while freaking out about my reality at home. My kids, however, are having the time of their lives in the play area.
My phone buzzes with a call from Morgan.Shit. There’s no privacy in this maze of do-it-yourself furnishings, and against my better judgment, I squeeze into a children’s circus play tent and close the fabric.
If this isn’t rock bottom, I’m as close to it as my ass is from sticking out the side of this tent.
I take a deep breath and answer, but I don’t get the chance to speak.
“Is someone dead?”
Not yet.
“No.”
“Are you dying?”
“Aren’t we all?”
She pauses. “Fair. Are you and the kids safe?”
“We are.”
“Okay,” Morgan says with a sigh. “Want to tell me why you went UFC on the piñata? All of that wasn’t necessary for a Snickers. You know I keep a special stash.”
“It’s over.”
“Yes, it is. The party was great, by the way.”
My voice drops to a whisper. “Not that.” I need to make this up to Duke. I would offer to take him for the weekend, but guess who doesn’t have a house?
She mimics my tone. “Why are we whispering?”
“Because I’m in a tent.”
