Page 101 of We Were Something
“Paige can go sit. I need someone to walk me down the aisle.”
My brow furrows. “It’s afuneral, Jen, not a wedding.”
She rests her hand on her stomach. “I know that, Logan. I’m not an idiot. But Mrs. Park planned the funeral and I’m supposed to follow her and Rodney’s dad down to sit in the front.”
“O…kay.”
“And I need you to walk with me.”
I grit my teeth and open my mouth to tell her no, to say she should ask one of her parents or one of her girlfriends to walk with her if she doesn’t want to do it alone.
But Paige squeezes my hand.
“Go ahead,” she tells me. “I don’t mind.”
“Oh, how magnanimous of you,” Jen mumbles.
“I’ll come sit with you once I’m done,” I whisper into her ear, feeling thankful for her endless patience.
She gives me a kiss then looks to Jen.
“I’m trying to be gracious, because you’re burying someone you love today,” Paige says, “but please, don’t talk to me like that.”
And then she spins around and joins the crowd of people heading inside to find a seat.
“You know, I thought I knew you,” Jen says quietly, and when I look at her, I find those sad eyes again.
The ones that have nothing to do with Rodney and everything to do with me. It’s a similar expression to the one she gave me after Paige showed up with our wedding picture. It’s filled with regret.
“I thought I knew you better than anyone, and then you show up here and you’re like a completely different person. Who is the man who arrives with a teenager as his girlfriend? You’re not the type of guy to have a midlife crisis.”
“You’re right. The only crisis I’m going through is what’s happening with my mother,” I tell her, my voice low and filled with frustration. “And Paige is not a teenager, so I’d appreciate you setting aside whatever jealousy you’re dealing with.”
Jen shakes her head, her previous sadness quickly slipping away as she holds her head high. “I’m notjealous, Logan. I have no need to be jealous of whatever little nothing the two of you have going on.”
“Good. I’d hate to know you’re jealous of my relationship with Paige whenyou’rethe one who threw our marriage in the trash.”
The scoffing noise that comes from her mouth echoes in the foyer, drawing the attention of a few late arrivers.
“Look, Jen,” I say, letting out a long sigh and taking her by her upper arms, giving them a light squeeze. “I don’t want to talk to you about this—about us. Not today. So please, just stop being a bitch to Paige.”
Of course, the last words come out just as the pastor walks over, but I don’t apologize. Everyone is fucking grieving. He can deal with a few damn cuss words.
Jen sniffles but doesn’t answer me, instead striding across the mostly empty foyer and grabbing some tissues before coming back to my side.
“I’m not ready for this,” she whispers.
Taking her arm and looping it in mine, I pat her hand twice.
“Nobody ever is.”
We follow Rodney’s parents down the aisle, and I feel like an ass for being the only onenotshowing any emotion.
I’m sad for Jen. I really am. And I’m generally sad for Mr. and Mrs. Park, since no parent should ever have to bury a child.
But I’d much rather be sitting in the hallway outside my mother’s room, playing Sudoku or laughing at stupid Mad Libs with Paige than walking my ex-wife down the aisle as she mourns the loss of the man she had an affair with.
Once we reach the front, I help Jen into her seat then turn to go sit with Paige a few rows back. I know she wants me to sit with her based on the sob she lets out as I walk away, but I just can’t. As much as I don’t want her to hurt, there have to be limits to her expectations of me. And I think I’ve already done more than most ex-husbands would do in my shoes.
