I thought back to the conversation I’d had with my lawyer earlier today. Basically, I was screwed. Greg wasn’t just my husband. He worked for my company, if only just barely. He was probably going to win, and I had to face it.
I looked up at the sky, the stars twinkling so brightly. I noticed the moon illuminating the sandbar that was only visible at low tide, the spot where Greg had proposed to me. I had thought it was the most romantic thing on earth. He had said, “The water washes away this sand, but nothing on heaven or earth will ever wash away my love for you.” It wasn’t exactly accurate, but I thought it was so romantic.
“It wasn’t easy,” I told Andrew. “I built that business from nothing, on my own shoulders, when I was only a kid. I swear being young was one of the reasons it all fell into place. I didn’t psych myself out of success, because I believed I was infallible.”
The night Greg proposed, as we celebrated our engagement, I’d told him about the idea for ClickMarket. We knew it was going to be good, but we had expected the affiliate bubble to burst long before now.
I told Andrew all of that, and he said, “And now you’re screwed. You and Greg are stuck together forever.”
I laughed. “We’re stuck together forever because of Wagner, so this is just one more piece of the pie.” I looked at the sky again, marveling that nine years after that gloriously romantic night, I was back on the same beach with a different man discussing how it all went wrong.
“Well, damn. All I do is swing a racket all day.”
“Being on the court is the same as being in the boardroom. Reading your opponent, learning to guess his or her next moves.”
I lay back down on his chest, and he kissed my hair. “Like how I knew you were going to do that?” he whispered.
I laughed. “Exactly.”
“I guess when you get down to it, tennis is a game of life.”
“Of course it is,” I said. “Oh, I used to love figuring out how to get into people’s heads.”
“You’re sure as hell in my head.”
After those four long days of radio silence, his cheesy reassurance was a relief. Lying there, the cicadas and cricketssinging their song, the one that reminded me of the freedom and innocence of childhood summers, I was happy that I was in his head. As much as I hated to admit it, he was in mine too, but I didn’t say that. I didn’t say anything.
Andrew shifted, and my pair of gold bangles, one with five intermittent rubies and one with five diamonds, clinked. Andrew lifted my arm. “What are these?” he asked.
I wore them all the time. I even showered in them. “They’re for remembering,” I said. I pushed up the top one with the rubies. “This one is for my mom.” Then I pulled the second to meet it. “This one is for Wagner.”
In the midst of my life falling apart, I’d been trying to focus on gratitude. And these bangles were a constant reminder of the good:This night. Wagner. The years I had with my mom. The stars. This house. The way the grass feels under my feet.
Andrew studied my face intently for a few seconds. “You take such good care of everyone. Who takes care of you?”
He kissed me. And I addedAndrewto the list.
diana: that wink
My favorite picture of me is one on my first day of sixth grade, and I’m standing there smiling and all optimistic. My new mom in foster care, she took that picture to make me feel special on the first day of school. Thinking back on it, she was always trying to make me feel special.
She was the first mom I had after my real mom, and she was the best. She was a nice mom. I mean, she had rules and stuff. We had to make our beds and clean up our rooms and set the table for dinner. But she checked my homework every night and snuggled up beside me on the couch to watch TV. Most important, she taught me how to cook. That was a real big deal to me. It was what started my dream of opening my own restaurant one day. Now that little napkin tucked in my back pocket with the drawing of that falling-apart boat was continuing it.
They say that people who lived through the Depression store stuff up because they’ve lived through something so traumatic they never want to do that again. It’s the same with me. I’d lived through being totally alone, so instead of storing up stuff, I stored up skills. I needed to know how to cook and clean and do laundry, how to sew on buttons, mend tears, fix my own hair.
I only got to live with my first foster mom for two years before her husband got transferred away for work. I cried and begged and pleaded to go with them, but that wasn’t in the cards. It was the second time I’d gotten left behind, but it was easier that time. I knew what to expect, and I knew how to take care of myself.
I think that’s why taking care of Gray felt so right. I saw a little bit of my young abandoned self in her. And now, in just two more days, I was going to be taking care of Wagner too. I couldn’t wait to meet the kid, but I was turned inside out about it too. Gray was acting like the queen was coming to visit. I’dnever seen anyone so distracted. She’d be eating breakfast and then she’d pop up and say, “Wagner will need new bathing suits. I need to run to the surf shop.”
And then she’d be working on her computer, and I’d hear her on her phone saying, “Trey, can you see if we can get tickets to that Cirque du Soleil show that’s coming?”
And when I thought she was upstairs I’d see the car pulling out of the driveway because she just remembered that Wagner would want Rice Krispies Treats and she didn’t have the stuff to make them. All in all, she was wearing me the hell out with her nervous energy. And he wasn’t even back yet. I was terrified too, because Gray didn’t have to say one word for me to realize that if Wagner didn’t like me, I was out.
Finally I just sat her down and said, “Honey, you’re his momma. No fancy Europe trip or shiny anything can change that.”
“I know. I know that. But he’s eight, and he’s too young to have all his priorities straight. What if he loves Brooke? What if he has so much fun with Greg that he wants to live with him all the time?”
Poor Gray. All those things could happen. They could. And she wasn’t wrong to be worried. But she didn’t need to drive herself up the wall. “Look, honey, if I were you I’d just try to get real clear with Greg that none of that’s going to happen. A solid arrangement in writing is insurance for him too, because Wagner could just as easily decide he wants to live withyouall the time.”
