It was my choice to leave. I knew I needed my family’s support. At first, Brandon played the part of the repentant husband who made a grave mistake. He actually begged me to stay, and I almost gave in. But when I asked him to call her andend it right then, he flinched. He wouldn’t take the phone. And I felt like the biggest fool in the world.
My mom and dad paid for my legal counsel so I could file a response to his divorce petition, challenging the custody portion. I don’t have the funds to fight him on my own, and they don’t have the funds to pour the same amount into it I’m sure he will. His parents have money to burn. And his mom never liked me. I could tell. I’m sure she has a notebook somewhere of every parenting misstep she thinks I ever made. I have a note for her—don’t raise a man who cheats on his wife.
I’m going to need to bluff my way through most of this. And if that means flashing a few texts in front of him so he knows what cards I have, then that’s what I’m going to do. We’ll both know I can’t use those in court. But he’ll know I could send them to the folks in charge of who gets tenure at the university. And that sounds like something I’d do.
“Okay, let’s get started,” the instructor says, flipping up the doorstop on the community center door with her foot. It’s nearly closed when Brandon slides his hand in and makes it inside.
“You must be Mr. Berchaund?” the instructor says as he weaves through the rows of seats until he finds the one next to me.
“Yes, sorry. I’m leading a summer session for PhD candidates at the university, and I had students with questions after class. I won’t be late again.” He’s trying to impress the instructor, and probably the rest of the class. Nobody responds, not even a nod. My smile veers into smug territory.
“Here’s your workbook,” I say, sliding over the extra I picked up for him. I had a feeling he’d be late.
“Parking was a bitch, huh?” He chuckles, but I merely meet his eyes for a moment and blink.
“Come on. We’re supposed to be showing how we can work together. At least melt the ice a little,” he whispers.
My brow draws in, and I continue to stare at him while he flips through the pages of the workbook, reading ahead while the instructor illuminates the first slide of what I dread will be a very long presentation.
I think I hate him.
I shake my head as that thought floats through my mind. There was a time when I thought I loved this man, when I willingly gave up my career to support his. I’m so glad to have my boys, but how in the world did I ever have sex with their dad?
“Lindsey? Did you have an example?”
I snap my focus forward and instantly bead-up with flop sweats. My gaze darts to the screen at the front of the room, and I manically read through the question being posed.
Would I make this same parenting decision if we were still married, or am I allowing my anger, pain, or resentment to affect my judgment?
“This has come up for us,” Brandon says, answering for me.
My brow dents and my head swivels until he’s all I see.
“Explain.” The instructor leans her weight on the back of an empty chair as she narrows her attention on my ex.
“Well, my wife—I mean ex-wife,” he begins. The instructor holds up a palm, stopping him.
“She has a name. Use her name.” My lips draw into a faint, smug grin that I try to keep to myself. I’m sure it’s obvious to Brandon, though.
“Okay, you’re right.Lindseywas looking for a job, and she decided to take on nannying. Only, she chose to live on premises.”
I roll my eyes at his choice of words. Also, I’m not sure how the fuck any of this applies to her question for us. He just wants to put the fact I moved in with another man out there for public consumption, to make me look bad. And, well, I didn’t exactlynotify him first, which I now know was a mistake as far as custody sharing is concerned.
“Okay, and you’re saying that if you were still married, would she have made the decision to work as a live-in nanny? I’m not sure I’m following.” Our instructor squints as she stares at Brandon, and he scratches at the back of his neck under her scrutiny. It’s one of his tells. He does it to buy himself an extra second or two to think, plus it makes him seem affable. I’m not sure why, but it has always worked. With me. With his parents, and mine. It’s his superpower. One doesn’t win college debate tournaments and not know a thing or two about swaying opinions.
“What I mean is, would she make a decision about something on the level of where our children sleep without consulting me if we were still married? I’m not sure she would have.”
I catch a few people in the classroom nodding in agreement with him, and I audibly huff out a single laugh. I can’t believe any of this.
“Lindsey? What do you think?” The instructor shifts her body so she’s solely focused on me.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not even sure I understand this question. Would I have taken a job to support myself and the boys if Brandon hadn’t slept with one of his PhD students? I mean . . . probably not.”
The gasps that fill the room are accompanied by a few snickers, which does feel good. Any classmates he thinks he won over with that little performance of his have likely abandoned him.
“Lindsey, that’s not productive,” the instructor says, admonishing me.
I laugh again, a little louder this time. But I quickly snap my mouth shut when I realize I’m the only one amused by this. I scan the room for anyone else to commiserate with, but by now,I’ve made this space so goddamn uncomfortable, everyone is looking down at their books and pretending to read.
