And then I cried.
And then I laughed some more.
Mitch had bought into the illusion, too. He had thought I would be making money to the point that he had asked for a portion of my future earnings. He might as well have asked for blood from my future turnips.
You’ve got to learn to stand on your own two feet.
And, for now, I needed a pair of shoes that were sturdier than my Louboutins. A pair of figurative work boots, if you will—or something with really great arch support for my new Target gig.
I drew out my phone and texted:Mom, you were right. About everything.
But I couldn’t bring myself to hit send.
What kind of pipe dream had it been to think that I could make a career out of being a Mom Scout? I’d done very little research. I hadn’t made my videos strategically, usually just reacting to what was happening to me at the time. I’d gotten lucky.
I’d been granted fifteen minutes of fame, and now it was well over twenty-four hours later.
When it came to grieving my marriage, I’d spent my time in denial instead.
Well, I didn’t have time for denial anymore. And two hundred dollars was two hundred dollars.
I had just opened my laptop and was trying to talk myself into making a video about something, anything, when the doorbell rang.
I got up to see my friendly neighborhood FedEx man with the shipment of wine I’d been promised. Donna must’ve shipped before she even announced. I signed for it and set it just inside the doorway before returning to my laptop.
Lucky jumped into my lap with a half-purr and half-oomph sound, and I began absently stroking her fur. I took a deep breath and put on my recording smile, but the doorbell rang again. It couldn’t be another wine shipment, so I decided to ignore it. I needed Lucky to forgive me for the bath so I could love on her, and she tended to hold a grudge if I put her on the floor after she had so graciously jumped into my lap.
The doorbell rang again.
“Look, we’ll have to cuddle later,” I said to the cat as I gently set her on the floor.
I steeled myself before opening the door, but I still wasn’t prepared for ... Mitch.
“May I come in?” he asked, his voice muffled by the glass storm door between us.
I took in his demeanor, more angst than anger. He had his hands in his pockets and was rocking back and forth on his heels, something he did when he was worried or unsure. I hated that I knew that, but a person couldn’t erase over twenty years of married life that easily, no matter how hard they tried.
Not that Mitch had had much trouble.
“Vivian?”
I opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
“I’m glad you found your cat.”
“Thanks, I didn’t realize you watched my videos.”
“Of course I did. I mean, I do.”
I sat down on the couch, but Mitch continued to pace all the way into the living room.
“What’s the problem, Mitchell?” I finally asked.
“Well.” He studied our wedding picture that sat on the mantel. There we were in all our young and stupid glory. He wore navy, and I wore an ivory suit of my mother’s. I looked like a little girl playing dress-up, which, I suppose, I had been.
I really should’ve put that damn thing away already.
He stuck his hands in his pockets, studying the younger us in the picture. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said the other day.”
