His dark eyes narrow and his jaw locks in anger, but he picks up his giggling brother and carries him outside.
I tell Diane about the missed therapy appointment, scheduling and rescheduling it, putting it in every available calendar, and him still not showing up, and having no clue where I was. I had put it in our calendar. I told him that morning. He should have known where I was.
By the end, I'm shaking in her arms.
"I brought that boy into this world," Diane hisses, jaw tight. "I will take him out."
"I'm so sorry," I gasp, burying my face in her shoulder. "I'm sorry for not telling you. I'm sorry for—"
"Shh," she soothes, smoothing my hair and kissing the crown of my head. "It's okay, Wendy. You've been shouldering so much for so long, I'd say you're overdue for a meltdown."
"I just... I feel like a failure," I whisper, pulling back from her embrace. "As a mother, as a wife."
"You are not," Diane affirms, grabbing a tissue box from the counter and pressing a bunch into my hands. "The only thing you should have done was tell me sooner. I would have straightened his ass out."
"I don't think you could have, Mom," I whisper, wiping my cheeks and blowing my nose. "I don't think anyone can. It's him. He has to do it, and he doesn't... " I gasp, my breath hitching.
Diane brushes my hair down soothingly, quickly grabbing a glass of water and handing it to me. I take a long sip and then a deep, clear breath.
"He doesn't want to."
The admission is misery, but having the truth out loud is, in a way, freeing. It’s not resting heavily on my shoulders any longer.
Diane, as always, is practical and all business. She takes a deep breath, slams back the rest of her coffee, straightens, and turns to me.
"What is the plan, Wendy?"
Warmth spreads at her words and I give a small, sad smile as I lay out my plans to my mother-in-law.
"I have a job, income now. I talked to Taylor's aunt, Imani—she's a divorce lawyer. I have an appointment with her on Saturday... would you watch the—" she's nodding her head to answer my question already, her expression seeming to sharpen even more with focus.
"I'll talk to her about filing for divorce. Then... we'll go from there."
"Okay," Diane nods.
"I won't keep the boys from him," I add quickly, leaving no room for doubt. "But I want to make sure he'll actually show up, consistently, and follow whatever schedule is set. I won't let them be disappointed anymore."
"Oh," Diane laughs, the sound humorless. "He'll be present. I'll make sure of it. He can move in here until he figures his shit out."
"That will..." I breathe deep, the relief making me almost dizzy. "Make me feel better. The boys having you guys around."
Because I don't know if I can trust my husband to get them where they need to go—school, activities, feeding them, homework, just the normal things I do every day that he hasn't done in a year.
That thought makes me blink, and I correct myself.
Or ever, if we’re being honest. It’s always been me taking care of the boys. Atlas has always been there to help, but… it’s always been me as the primary caretaker.
"You know you always have us, too."
I sigh. "I don't want you to have to choose—"
"There's no choice, Wendy," she says, her voice fierce and firm. "You're my daughter. You are my family— married to Atlas or not. You've been more of a daughter to me lately than Atlas has been a son... and I'm gonna skin his ass for that when I see him."
Her words settle me and I choose to believe them, because Diane has never once lied to me.
"Let me just... file the paperwork first. My lawyer said not to tell him anything for now. I need to get the jump and get my ducks in a row."
"We'll pay for the lawyer—" Diane starts.
