“Well, what are you going to do about that?”
I close my eyes, not wanting to rise to the bait. The tension is palpable throughout my entire body, his presence enacting a response in me that has me feeling immediately on the defense. Truthfully, I want to scream at him and unleash every repressed thought, list every transgression, every hurt, every piece he broke in me. But I know it won’t do any good.
Trent always has an excuse. A way to twist things around and make it seem like he has no responsibility for the things he’s done. Or worse, gaslight me into wondering if what I experienced with him is what really happened.
And tonight, I don’t have the fight in me. I just paid off Isobel’s doctor’s bill from when she got strep at the beginning of the month. It was enough to have me eating bread sandwiches for the last few weeks so the girls wouldn’t suffer.
“I’m ready, Daddy. Coming, Mama?” Jasmine asks holding her trick or treat bag in one hand, and her sister’s arm in the other.
They look adorable, and I wonder how they got so big so fast.
“Nah, Mom’s going to stay here. I’ll have them back in the morning.” Trent answers before I can say anything.
Tears sting in my eyes as my mouth opens and closes, wondering what to say or do.
“You know what, you guys have fun with Daddy, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” I force out with a wobbly smile.
I know what our custody agreement says, and even if I were to put up a fight, it would cause the girls to miss out on Halloween, and the police hate getting involved. We’ve been down that road before and they didn’t do anything but shrug their shoulders and scold us to get along.
“Let me get a picture first before you go.” I say pulling out my phone.
Immediately, the girls strike a pose puckering their little lips and flashing a peace sign. I take several pictures from different angles, and each photo I take, they do a little change in their pose. “Okay, last one but just of you guys smiling.” They give me a crazy, William Dafoe like grin and I can’t help but laugh at their antics.
“I’ll have them back by eleven tomorrow morning.” Trent says, walking out the door with the girls in tow.
As the door closes behind them, I feel a piece of my heart go with. Wishing, not for the first time, that things could be different.
“He did what?” My best friend, Callie, screeches in my ear. She’s no stranger to Trent and how unreasonable and downright cruel he can be. Having been my support system through the many, many court dates while we finalized our divorce and child custody arrangement, she saw first-hand just what he was capable of.
“I know. But the worst part was when he tried to call me one of his girls.” His touch still lingers on my skin, and not in a good way.
“Ugh. That’s it. Get your ass ready, right now. We are going out.” Typical Callie, always bossing me about.
“Where?”
“No questions, just get ready.”
I’m met with a loud dial tone in my earbuds as she leaves me wondering what she has cooked up at the last minute. Leave it to Callie, to find something though. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten. Always there for each other in the good times and the bad. And for the last two years, I’ve been using that bestfriend punch card a whole hell of a lot. I owe it to her to clean myself up and have a night out, like old times. Even if she is a little harsh sometimes, she’s still my best friend.
It's been such a long time since I put on makeup and curled my hair for myself, that I’m taking my time and using my best products. I put on a playlist to help distract me from the sad state my life has turned into, dancing along to Chappell Roan at full blast. I let the upbeat notes ofPink Pony Clubflitter away at my bad mood, letting my hips wiggle along to the beat while I sing off-key. The light above my bathroom sink flickers, reminding me that I need to change it out, but I haven’t had time.
I add it to the internal, never-ending list of things I have to do.
Shaking my hips while I apply my foundation, I realize it’s a shade too dark. But I think I can make it work. I just need to blend the shit out of it and hope my concealer works its magic. In this lighting, it seems to be doing just that. Hopefully, wherever we’re going it isn’t too bright. At least it’s covering up the few stress induced pimples that dot my chin.
My thoughts drift to the girls, hoping they’re having a good time. Knowing Trent, they’re being treated to a good time, only it’s the after part that worries me. He’s good at showing off, making them laugh, but then as soon as morning comes, the magic spell wears showing his true nature. I wonder just how long it will be until he comes back around again after this. He doesn’t see how much the girls miss him. Always asking when Daddy will be back, and I never have an answer for them. I get to watch firsthand as he breaks their hearts with nothing I can do to legally stop it from happening.
“Knock, knock, bitch. I hope you’re dressed.” Callie’s voice echoes off the tiles of my bathroom. I love that we have the kind of relationship where she can let herself in.
“Don’t act like you haven’t seen it all before.” I roll my eyes, putting on some lip-gloss in a deep berry shade that gives the right finishing touch I was hoping for. Looking in the mirror, I see my blonde hair tumbling over my shoulders in beachy waves. My green eyes are framed by black long lashes that I’ve curled and applied one too many coats of mascara onto. But, I have to admit I look fucking good. A whisper of the girl I was before Trent got his claws into me. I missed this girl, well, woman. I am in my early thirties.
“Damn, you look good. All this for little old me?”
“So do you, babe. Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Not a chance, but you should wear flats.”
Interest piqued, I rifle through my closet and settle on a pair of old Vans to go with my black leggings and greySleeptokenhoodie.
