He turned pensive. “They will assume we’re all moving in.”
“Yeah, so that’s where I’m on the fence,” I admitted. “For them to be as comfortable as possible—and for us to prevent any major anxiety attacks—we need that transition to be slow, yeah? But in order to maintain the slow pace, we gotta omit a whole lotta truth. And I don’t know where we draw the line and shit becomes downright deceitful.”
Together, we had been great at minimizing Mikey’s anxiety and panic, all while steadily expanding his comfort zone. We’d had all the patience in the world for him. But a divorce was literally going to split that zone into two, and the whole foundation would shake him up, regardless of what we did.
Lily had some issues too. She didn’t have much worry in her body, but she could freeze up and have her whole day ruined if she stumbled upon change. The key with her was to provide warnings and share our schedule with her. At four years old, she’d learned how to tell time, and she’d worn a watch ever since.
How did we warn her that a divorce was coming up?
Nate released a heavy breath and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “I’ll have to think about it. I’m on the fence too. But nothing’s happening until after the holidays?”
“Right. Not with them potentially seeing the house anyway.”
“Okay. In that case, maybe we should talk to Lily’s doctor.”
Not a bad idea. I wished we could talk to Mikey’s old psychologist, but she had moved to California, and we hadn’t found a good replacement yet. It was on the ever-expanding to-do list.
“All right, I can make an appointment after work,” I replied. “Are we good on everything else that I said?”
He hesitated for a beat before he inclined his head. “With one exception. I still want us to get together as a family every nowand then, to show them we’re a unit, but I can tell you need some space from me for a while.”
Let me guess. He didn’t feel that need because his feelings toward me had cooled off, so shit wasn’t as toxic anymore.
“I think that’s best,” I stated. “As long as we’re both ready to meet up at any point if Mikey or Lily wonders why we rarely see each other anymore.” Lily might be oblivious, but Mikey had his moments. A few months ago, he’d woken up from a bad dream, and I hadn’t been in bed with Daddy. Nate had thankfully been quick to say I’d run out to get painkillers for a headache.
“Of course. It’s only a matter of time, I suppose.”
We’d see. Mundane everyday life had kept us safe so far. Life as a parent was to be chauffeur and cook, two activities the kids were used to us doing separately. But in the evenings, back when the world was a wonderful place, the kids had usually found Nate and me on the couch together, either with my arm around him or my head in his lap.
All traces of affection had been gone for almost a year.
Kids were such self-involved little shits.
“What about the holidays?” he asked. “I’ll admit, I don’t want to celebrate it without you.”
Oh, he could admit that?
“Your mom called already,” he added.
I nodded, knowing it was “their” Thanksgiving this year. “Thanksgiving with my folks, Christmas with yours.” Although, both our families came together for the latter. Even now, our folks spent time together.
They’d given us the business when we’d let them know we were separating. It’d been a good mix of “Surely you can go talk to someone?” and “Okay, but we’re family—that won’t change.”
“Stupidest thing I ever heard, son. Whatever the problem is, I’m sure you can work it out.”
“Oh no, I can’t believe it. We’re family!”
“This is going to take a while for me to process and accept, but you better get ready to spend the rest of your life together in some capacity, becauseweare not divorcing.”
“Speaking of,” I said, clearing my throat. “Ma told me their Christmas gift to us this year is them paying for the kids’ tuition next semester.”
Nate’s eyes bugged out a little. “What the fuck? Why would they do that? It’s an insane amount of money.”
“And they have it,” I pointed out. Then I shrugged. “They know we’re struggling.”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “I’m not comfortable with that.”
“Getcomfortable,” I advised. “I have a fuck-ton of renovations, and so do you. We’re accepting the gift.”
