“I got this.” He waved his can over his belly. “What you need to do is focus on yourself. Man . . . your evil ex is at it again.” Malcolm tossed the can toward my wastebasket and missed it by a foot before lifting his phone and swiping the screen with his thumb.
Since we became friends, Malcolm had become my quirky sidekick. He lived vicariously through me, tracking my ex and her silly ways as if he were a private investigator. He said he didn’t want me to be blindsided by anything Lise did. I owed Malcolm a lot, since immediately after my divorce, he checked in on my mental state almost daily, making sure I didn’t fall into a state of depression because I had to start life over as a single father to a precocious little girl.
“What you talkin’ ’bout?” I sighed deeply and picked up his can before placing it in the wastebasket.
Despite common sense telling me not to egg Malcolm on, I wanted to know what Lise was up to. She had always been a loose cannon, so I mentally prepared myself to schedule an emergency session with my therapist if foolishness popped off.
“Looka here.” Malcolm thrust his cell phone in my face so fast I couldn’t make out what he tried to show me.
I reached for his phone and focused on the screen, frowning like the phone stank. Lise and her new husband, Robert, were booed up on a social media post where ol’ boy held her so tight that if she were a pimple, she’d pop. I read the caption under the photo.
When God sends you THE ONE…baby, hold him tight. I went from trash to treasure in love. Thank you, God, forloving me the RIGHT way in EVERY way.*tongue emoji*Our little angel will be blessed to have a daddy like you. #relationshipgoals #sexydaddytobe
I shook my head as I took in all the information on Lise’s page. She dissed me publicly with her cryptic words all the time. But a pregnancy? Whoa. She really moved on and chose to share her news with the world before sharing it with me.
“We were just on the phone.” I almost whispered the words as I reread the caption.
That photo confirmed that I made the right choice with my divorce. Lise and I addressed the dissolution of our marriage drastically different. I processed our breakup privately, with grace, and as soundly as I could, but Lise loved broadcasting our post-divorce business to the world like strangers needed to know every detail of her sporadic life. At least she had the sense to keep Aspen’s name and face out of her shenanigans.
I clicked on the link to Robert’s account. He was a social media influencer and life coach with over one hundred thousand followers. Every other photo showed him shirtless. When he wasn’t half naked in a post, he and Lise lay in pools twisted like pretzels or booed up it in dimly lit restaurants with alcohol and decadent food. Like Lise, Robert was a drama king with an ego the size of Texas. He gave her the attention she craved in every way.
“They like to eat.” I poked my lips out and held my tongue, determined to say something nice about the mess Malcolm showed me.
I wasn’t going to block blessings by tearing down a woman I worked hard to release emotionally. I also didn’t want to relapse over Lise and her lies.
“That was nicer than what I’d say. If she were my ex, I’d cuss her up one side of social media and down another. Cheating ass heifer.”
“Good thing she’s not your ex then.” I grinned at Malcolm’s transparency.
I wasn’t surprised by Malcolm’s hate for Lise. He was the only person who knew that she stepped out on me with Robert before the ink dried on our divorce papers.
“Lise handled our divorce her way, and I dealt with mine another. Maybe she can finally be happy.”
Malcolm shrugged and gave me a side-eye. “I guess.”
“Everybody has to answer for their actions on their own time.” I spoke the words by faith, believing in my heart that karma, God, and everything that made things right in the universe would have my back, working everything out in a way that wouldn’t leave me crushed. “I wasn’t the perfect husband all the time,” I added.
If therapy taught me nothing else, it was to own my mistakes and move on.
Malcolm shook his head.
“You sure you ain’t a saint or something?”
I chuckled at his constant exhortation about my character. Since I was a kid, I believed in practicing the Golden Rule. That was why I was so proud that Aspen received the first-grade citizenship award at Farmerton Elementary this semester.
“I’m nobody’s saint. Ask my parents. They’d have lots to say about how ornery I’ve been in the thirty-five years they’ve known me. I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else.”
Like Malcolm, many people in the community held me in high esteem because of my philanthropic efforts. It was often difficult for me to celebrate that, even as people complimented my character. I was a good guy but was nowhere close to being perfect.
“You made the right choice, man. Anyone who acts like you’re a deadbeat dad ain’t worth the time of day.”
“Thanks, man.”
“I’ll pray for her.”
Malcolm’s words touched a tender spot in my soul. As precious memories returned to me, I breathed deeply. It wasn’t easy to take the high road every day. In fact, it was exhausting.
I turned my back to Malcolm and faced the clock on the back wall as my vision blurred, blinking several times until everything was in focus again. I cleared my throat before picking up my work order for the afternoon.
