“Hey Maggie,” he says. I cringe but don’t correct him because it’s not worth it, not when I have bigger fish to fry.
Clearing my throat, I focus on the end goal and what I want out of this call. “Kendall isn’t comfortable going to your wedding.”
“Goddammit, why can’t you talk to her? Tell her I’m not a bad guy?” His reply is hissed, and that only serves to stoke my fury.
“Listen, Paul, I don’t tell her how to feel. Despite what you might think, she’s almost an adult, more mature than her peers because of what she’s been through…what she’s seen,” I sling, hoping to hit him where it hurts. “She makes her own decisions. I told her to call and apologize for the mean things she said abouther. I parent her. I don’t tell her how to think.”
“Pamela. Her name is Pamela. Come on, at least dignify the woman who will be Kendall’s stepmother by calling her by her name.” My whole body heats at the insinuation of that woman being any relation to my daughter. Shealmostsingle-handedly destroyed the innocence of my child.
“I tried being nice, but Kendall will never refer to that woman as her stepmother. You ruined that chance when you fucked her on our dining room table knowing we were both in the house. Now before you think I’m holding some grudge, I want you to know I’ve moved on. Kendall won’t see me fucking him, Paul. She won’t. Because I’m an adult, and I handle my relationships, all of them, with dignity and truth. I called to tell you Kendall will not attend your wedding. I called to tell you that you’re an asshole to think she would. I called to thank you for being a cheating bastard. If you hadn’t, I might still be trapped in a loveless marriage with a sub-par human who is self-centered and weak.”
“Magnolia.” Paul trips on my name. “I’ve never heard you speak like that to me.”
“There weren’t very many truths between us, were there? There wasn’t room for truth in our garden of lies.”
He stays silent on the other end of the line, and I hope he’s thinking of all of the years I was a good wife and mother, only loving and helpful, and careful with my words. “The truth hurts, but I’ve come to realize I can sell the past and buy a new, magnificent future. All it costs is acceptance. I accept that you were an awful husband. I accept that I didn’t see the signs.Kendall accepts that you aren’t a role model and thatshewill never be a respectable woman. The question remains if you can accept that,” I say, my breaths speeding. It’s therapeutic to get it off my chest like this, not having to see his face, which might make me weaker or influence my words.
Paul coughs. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”
“There is always a choice. You know that. You make all sorts of choices.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Life isn’t fair,” I say. “Tell her to mark down Kendall’s RSVP, please.”
“Yeah, yeah, Maggie. Yeah,” he says, defeated, his nasally tone telling me he’s finished with our conversation as it’s not going his way.
“Oh, and Paul?”
He grunts as his reply.
“Congratulations on your impending marriage. I’m sure it will bring you nothing but happiness for the rest. Of. Your. Life.” I hang up the phone with a flourish.
“You are a motherfucking champion, Magnolia Sager,” Jenny says, jumping up and down. “The girls are on their way back. Perfect timing.” She flashes the phone screen, and the dot is heading down our road. That’s the only relief I feel in this moment. “How good did that feel? I feel good for you!”
I don’t feel strong. I feel weak because I’m just realizing if I’d done this sooner, I could have moved on, pieced my life back together, and found Aidan sooner. “He’s upset.”
“Are you really upset because he’s upset?” Jenny fires.
I breathe out. It was just a realization. “I used to be. Not now. It’s odd not apologizing and trying to make things right. I do feel…good.” I hang my head, my coiled muscles relaxing now that conflict is finished. “Why didn’t I tell him that sooner? I stayed quiet for so long.”
“Aidan. Your soulful beefcake. It changes things when you care for someone, Magnolia, and makes you realize the differences between what you thought your marriage was and what it actually was. That’s how it was for me.” She swallows hard, setting her wineglass on the counter. “It doesn’t matter how long it took, all that matters is you made it to the other side. All the things you should have done and said and known won’t haunt you anymore.”
I pick up my phone and see that the girls are back, parking their bikes beside the shed, the dot blinking right on top of our house. Peering out the window, I see them chattering away, talking animatedly. “My only hope is one day she’s not haunted,” I admit, my voice low.
“She’s happy. Look,” Jenny says, striding to stand next to me. “All it will take is time. More time. Kendall has made this much progress already. Let yourself be happy. Let it happen.” Jenny knows. She lives inside that same place I do. That balance of being a mother and a father, fulfilling your child’s needs before your own, and what that means for the guilt that comes in the nanoseconds where you do indeed think of yourself. The heart pulls in opposite directions.
“She does look happy, doesn’t she?” I say, wistful.
The girls barge in through the mudroom a few seconds later, giggling wildly. “That was so much fun! A raccoon almost made me fall off my bike,” Juliet exclaims, taming her ponytail. “It ran right out in front of me.”
“As long as a raccoon was the only thing trying to harm you, I’m okay with that. You still have the pepper spray on that keychain in your basket, right?” I ask as visions of raccoons with red eyes and foaming mouths attacking the thing I love most in this world go floating through my head. “We might need to throw it away and get a new one. Those things might expire.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” Kendall says, rolling her eyes. “The pepper spray is still viable, I’m sure.”
Jenny picks up her wine and takes a slow sip. “Who all was there?” she asks with narrowed eyes.
Kendall looks left, Juliet pulls out her hair and ties it up again, and I wonder if it’s a nervous gesture. “Just a few girls. They were drinking, but we didn’t,” Juliet replies. “We just said hey and talked for a bit and then rode home. No biggie.”
