Page 22 of Better Daddy
Through it all, my longing for another child never waned.
And now here we are.
Maybe the circumstances aren’t the greatest, but I can’t help but be thrilled to add to my little family.
And though I have to move into the disgusting apartment in Jersey, at least I’ll be living with my best friend. Lo will help me get through this.
One of the most difficult parts of separating from Sully was losing her, Cal, and Brian. Sure, they’re still my friends, but because they work with Sully, by default, he got custody of them.
I was a lonely child, though it wasn’t until law school that I realized just how isolated I’d been my whole life. The bond Brian and Sully shared opened my eyes to what I’d been missing out on. And when I went home with Sully that first holiday and met Cal? My mind was blown. I’d never been part of a boisterous family event. I’d never heard such laughter and teasing.
My parents, Roger and Beverly O’Malley, are the definition of serious. Dinners were quiet affairs, the silence interrupted only by the clinking of silverware and the subdued conversation of the adults. Because in our home, children were meant to be seen, not heard. Once I was old enough to hold a conversation that interested them, they used family meals as a way to foster debates. My parents would give me a topic, and I’d have to argue both sides.
It was riveting, as one can imagine.
But I’d prefer that kind of interaction at dinner over the nights I spent waiting for Sully. Night after night, I’d make dinner, set the table, get myself dressed, and wait for him to get home. On the days that I didn’t go to the office, it was the only adult interaction I’d have, and I longedfor it.
But after months of blowing out the candles and going to bed without my husband, I stopped trying.
Experiencing one of those nights was heartbreaking enough. Suffering through it for months on end killed something inside me.
Sully feels like the divorce came out of left field, and in truth, I can’t connect my decision to ask him to move out with one specific moment. There was no knockdown, drag-out fight. Instead, it was one tiny moment built on top of another and another that led to a resentment I could no longer push down and a loneliness that swallowed me whole.
Last April, he made it home for dinner, which hadn’t happened in months. The entire time, we sat across from one another in silence. It wasn’t until we were almost finished that T.J. piped up and asked why everyone was so quiet.
Sully was reading over a case file and I’d probably been staring into space. It hit me then that my child was living my childhood. A childhood I wouldn’t wish on even my worst enemy.
I panicked. And I realized I didn’t even recognize myself anymore. I couldn’t live like that for another second.
“Ready?” T.J. asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
Not really, but it’s now or never.
So I turn around and assess my son. He’s dressed for school, with his backpack secured over his shoulders. His big blue eyes, the same shade as his dad’s, see more than we give him credit for.
“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you for a second before we go.”
The moment the words leave my mouth, he bounces on his toes. T.J. is a doer. He’s always moving. Standing in one place and listening can be a challenge. So when he shakes his hips back and forth and giggles, all I can do is smile. “Sure.”
“Remember when you asked about moving in with Uncle Cal, Uncle Brian and Dad while they live in Jersey?”
T.J. nods, his hair falling across his forehead.
“Is that something you’d still like?”
“Yes,” he practically screeches, bouncing around in a circle.
My heart aches in the best and worst way. He’s so excited, yet the idea of leaving this place is painful.
I clear my throat and wait for him to settle again. “Would it be okay if I came too? I think I’ll miss you too much if you go without me.”
T.J. scans the room rather than looking at me. “Sure.”
I close my eyes and shake my head at his indifference. My feelings aren’t actually hurt, because come bedtime, he’ll be thankful I’m there. Bedtime has always been special for us, and since Sully moved out and T.J. has spent weekends with him, it’s been hard on us both.
“Hey,” I say, snagging his attention. “Do you have any questions for me?”
Head tilted, he presses his lips together, like he’s really thinking hard. I worry constantly about the damage we’re doing to him by splitting up. It was the right thing to do. I have no doubt. I was miserable and I couldn’t stand the idea that T.J. could pick up on the tension and resentment.
