Page 12 of Trading Up
Looking around her room, I made sure that the only thing I had to do tomorrow morning was to check on the canvases I’d bought of her and the boys, and get fresh flowers. Hopefully I’d be able to hang the canvases tonight, but if not, then sometime tomorrow morning before she got here. Maybe. They were late. They were supposed to be here yesterday.
Three hours later, we were locking up for the night, and I dragged all the cardboard down to the dumpster around the corner. It was already almost midnight, and I was going to be up in a matter of hours again, heading to the farmers' market for fresh flowers. I headed back upstairs to my apartment, exhausted, but almost satisfied. I’d be happiest once I saw their reactions. I just had to make sure I didn’t miss it. After I got the flowers and put them in her apartment, I would come back up and get ready.
I fell asleep that night, satisfied knowing that I’d soon be sleeping within three floors of her again. I haven’t lived this close to her since college. Fourteen years of being further from her than I had ever been comfortable with. Fourteen years of my body aching for her. And finally, she was a few floors away from me. She and the boys. They were close to me now. I could finally pursue all of them ardently.
That was the happiest time of my life. I couldn’t wait to get close to her again.
Like we used to be.
T E N: Paloma.
Sarah’s POV
We spent the rest of the day just hanging out, exploring our new apartment. It was magical, watching the boys explore their new home, playing with new toys, having a movie night in our new living room, and it was all thanks to Row. I stared in awe at this man, my best friend, the one person I could always count on. He always knew how to make things amazing for the kids when he knew it was going to be an adjustment. As I crawled into bed that night, I realized something. I smiled more than I had in months. Pulling the duvet and my favorite throw blanket over me, I somehow felt lighter, lighter than I had in months. It was like knowing I never had to see Will again lifted this massive, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound weight off my chest. It felt like a new lease on life was granted to me when I went to sleep that night.
And I’d be able to get that permanent new lease once the divorce was finalized, but this was a start. This was the beginning of a new chapter in my book. I couldn’t wait to see what I had in store for myself in the future. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was going to include a happily ever after. I had a few more petty ideas left in store for Will, but those included just letting him know what he lost and what he gained. Mainly, watching me succeed, while he fully understood the kind of person Paloma truly was. Thegemhe thought he was making a baby with.
That was something else Petey had done for me. I wanted to know about Paloma. I wanted to know who my soon-to-be ex-husband would have around my boys. I wanted to know if I’d be taking him back to court to further either limit or removeher from my children’s lives. I wanted to know how much extra I’d need to cover the legal fees, because she was awalkinglegal issue. And I was right.
Paloma Jones. Twenty-two, freshly graduated from the state university. Our Alma mater. Her mother gave her daughter her last name, since there was no father listed on the birth certificate until she turned eighteen. Her life looked like a mirror of mine. Her dad had affairs, cheating on his wife all the time. She and her mother were one of two side families he had, not including his primary family. He had two children with her mother. Three children with his other mistress and five children with his wife. He was a busy guy. Petey told me the sordid details of her parents’ affair. It was toxic. Her mother had been his mistress for years before he got her pregnant, months before he was supposed to marry someone else. They broke up when she found out he and his dad were sharing women, and she tried to move on. She started dating a single dad, and things worked out for a couple of years, just as they were starting to get serious, her former lover came back into the picture.
Apparently, he’d missed her, promised never to lie to her again. They’d talked, and he’d been honest this time. About everything. Paloma was the result of her parents getting back together. Her older brother? He was the one who cut everyone off when he left the house when she was ten. Paloma grew up in a toxic environment that was her family situation, but her older brother had seen how a loving, honest relationship could work. Petey talked to him, and he said he'd tried to keep her from seeing the way things were with their parents, but after a certain point, he said he knew. She was turning out to be just like her mother. She was okay with being the mistress, as long as she was cared for in every way possible.
I honestly didn’t think two people, who had relatively close upbringings, could be so completely different. I wantedto be nothing like my mother. I wanted to be the complete opposite. I wanted to be the only one that my spouse was with, emotionally, physically, matrimonially!
I didn’t think that was too much to ask for. Besides, once I left my post as his wife, there would be an open position that needed to be filled. I just hoped she’d be as okay with whoever else he brought in as she was with me. Some women aren’t blinded by post-partum depression and anxiety and can see what their man is doing, see that he’s pulling away. There would be no sister-wives shit over here like she and her fucked up family did growing up. Nope. Not happening here. She could have the position of wife. He could brag about what he’d gained on social media.
Meanwhile, I’d show him what he lost. I had already started looking up vacations to take. The money, which my father left for me when I found out about us being one of his affair families, had grown exceptionally well and was begging to be used. Plus, the kids and I had never been on a family vacation. I wanted to treat them. To show them all of the fun things about the beach, the ocean, and the things we could do there. I wanted to have time for us to just be and have new experiences together. I wanted to make memories. And I wanted my best friend along, in whatever capacity I could have him.
I would also continue to live my best life without Will, and I would show it off. I was going to be happy. I wasn’t going to stay hurt and sad. I was going to be able to trust people again. I was going to trust that the people I brought into my life would love and respect me enough to tell me they saw something if they caught my significant other cheating on me. I would work on that, but I’d be fine. I was strong. I just had to keep reminding myself every day.
I could be strong. I just needed to prove it to myself.
The day after we moved in, my phone didn’t blow up because I left that on the table with my rings and house keys for him to find after he got served, but my social media exploded. I was getting messages, comments, calls, and video calls through all the various social media platforms from everyone I knew. The only one who called my actual phone, with my phone number, was Row.
“Hey, Sar, did you see what’s happening on socials?” His semi-sleepy voice asked, “Ma called. She sent me screenshots, and I wanted to know if you saw. If not, don’t look. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I just have to get dressed.”
“Okay,” I said, already pulling up my socials to check what he was talking about. There were pictures. All over social media. Someone at the company had recorded the singing telegram, and it was now trending in our town. There were also photos posted to my wall of the two of them together, in our home, ultrasound photos, and a link to their joint social media account. I hadn’t blocked all of their joint accounts, it seems. That would need to be remedied, as well as blocking the people who were posting screenshots and other photos of them altogether.
They weren’t hiding it anymore.
They were flaunting it.
For all my friends, family, and coworkers. For any and every one to see. My face paled, and I couldn’t help the bile that rose in my throat. They had posted their baby shower photos, looking like a happy couple. I was about to go down the rabbit hole of shit they posted on my timeline when I heard a distant calling. A voice that sounded further away than it should have. My grip tightened around my phone, ready to throw it across the room. They weren’t ashamed of the mockery they’d made of my marriage and my life. Scrolling on, I saw screenshots of posts they’d made, laughing at me, at my struggle with PPD and PPA.
I could hear a ringing in my ears. I could feel what I thought was still some remaining humanity I’d felt for that worthless sack of shit evaporating like water in a desert. It was nonexistent. That calm rage that fueled my petty side was coming back in full force, but it was different. It was quiet in its rage, slithering through my emotions like a snake, deadly and waiting for the perfect time to strike.
I felt hands covering mine, taking my phone from me. Rubbing my arms. Trying to bring me out of whatever this space was. I blinked.
Once.
Twice.
“She learned this. From her parents,” I looked at him, feeling dead, hollowed out, like a fallen tree that had been cut down before it could fall naturally from old age or disease. I was ready for the hibernation, the changes, the growth. I’d be a butterfly, something beautiful that they could only see from afar, and never get close enough to touch again.
“I’m going to block all of these people, and anyone who is liking or loving these,” his voice was deep and low, his eyes concerned. Those deep, almost black orbs that always held such care for me, that always searched for me in every room he stepped into. I let my head fall forward, resting on his chest.
No tears came this time. Only a burning rage.
