Page 141 of Doctorshipped
“It’s not over til it’s over,” Laura says. “Not until the fat lady sings.”
“That would be me!” Lexi says, patting her baby belly.
“Oh, no. Please, please do not sing. She’s had a hard enough day as it is,” Laura teases.
“Do we need T-Swizzle?” Lexi asks.
“Oh yeah!” Laura shouts.
“And …” Shannon jumps up. “Legally Blonde!”
“Come on, Jayme,” Lexi pleads. “Don’t break tradition. We have to dance on the couches and watch our favorite break-up movie. This might be the last breakup we ever go through together.”
“Let’s hope,” Laura says.
Lexi cues up a Taylor Swift song—the one we always play when someone goes through a breakup. It’s a woman singing about never getting back together. The lyrics felt like a war cry when Shane and I broke up. Now they feel like a confirmation of my worst nightmare.
Everyone but Lexi takes to the couches, me included. We stand on the cushions, dancing to the music. Memories of letting loose to this very song on different couches flood my mind as we all twist and sing, “Never, never, never!”
I survived that breakup with Shane.
I just might survive this one with Grant.
Maybe.
At least for tonight I will.
42
GRANT
The past three weeks have been harder than any I ever lived through. Harder than when Margot left. Infinitely harder. The only solace is that Fiona isn’t grieving the same way I am. Though she read me the riot act after the first week Jayme consistently declined dinner invitations.
That particular day, Jayme had come for tutoring and left. I had endured the daily torture of hearing the click of the door opening. Her voice calling out to Fiona, the answering voice of my daughter, and the sound of them tromping upstairs together. Even with Dad back in St. Louis, they prefer to tutor in Fiona’s room now. I heard the sound of Jayme leaving. The shutting of our front door with a sense of repeated finality. And then her car engine retreating down our street, pulling away from me more and more each day.
Right after Jayme left, Fiona popped her head in my office. “Something’s up.”
“Hmm?”
“Don’t lie to me, Daddy.”
“Never have. Never will.”
“Miss Jayme won’t stay for dinner anymore. You two avoid one another like you hate each other. What happened?”
I breathed out a sigh and told Fiona how the day her mom had shown up, Jayme came by. I softened some of the details. Left out the spilling of the flowers entirely. But, basically, I explained how withholding truth was also a type of lying. And lying hurts people. So I hurt Jayme in a way that makes it hard for her to be around me—for now.
Fiona instantly looked stricken. I couldn’t take it. Then she said, “That means I lied to Miss Jayme too. I didn’t tell her about Mom either.”
I explained how that was very different. Fiona had a right not to talk about her mom. She looked at me with suspicion, but in the end, she seemed to accept my explanation. Her final words gutted me. “We should have let people know Mom left us. We didn’t make her leave. We didn’t have to hide it.” I apologized for inadvertently leading her into my chosen secrecy about our past. Fiona forgave me too easily, as she’s prone to do.
As for Margot, she stuck around two more days. After my talk with Jayme Monday night, I took Tuesday to … wallow. There’s not a prettier word for a man who shuts all the curtains, refuses to eat or shower, and mopes all day. I sent Fiona to school, climbed back into bed, and got myself out of bed just before Fiona came home. I told Fiona Miss Jayme had to cancel tutoring and she would be back Wednesday. Then I holed up in my office, thinking about Jayme and how I messed up the best thing in my life.
I finally called my dad, who listened. He didn’t have any words of wisdom except, “Give her time, Grant. Don’t give up. The battle isn’t the war.” Yeah. He likes that line. I did not like that his words reminded me of my first kiss with Jayme. And I’m ninety-nine percent sure Dad knew they would. He’s like this strange sensei with his Jedi ways of leading you to do what you ought. My dad and baby Yoda.
Margot, Fiona and I met on Wednesday in Dayton. The three of us went out to Culver’s and ate lunch together. If you’re thinking the time we spent together was life-altering, it wasn’t.
Fiona acted like she’d been seeing Margot all along. She walked in, shouted, “Mom!” and ran over to give Margot a quick, but friendly hug. Fiona said Margot could call her once a week if she wanted. She added, “Oh, yeah. And maybe we’ll see you when we’re in St. Louis to see Grandpapparoonagus for Christmas.”
