Sixteen
Kim
As soon as we get back to the hotel and enter the kids’ room, we are accosted by a large wiggly mass of fur and slobber—well, after Costanza walks into the doorframe first and then manages to find my legs. Aaron dropped him off while Blake and I were at our therapy appointment, undoubtedly hoping to avoid another night with a gassy boxer in his bed.
Blake and I both crouch down to pet a happily whimpering Costanza. “Hey, you,” Blake says, scratching behind Costanza’s pointed ears like he and the dog have been pals for years.
Blake never grew up with animals or any real desire to have them—with the exception of a pig, which dream was fulfilled when I surprised him with Ugly Naked Pig—but he’s always been a natural with them. Playing with them, even cleaning up messes or administering meds in the most awkward of animal orifices, he never complained. For a while I’d attributed it to him knowing what he was getting into by choosing to be with me, but I soon became convinced he actually loved taking care of the animals.
He’s always said I’m the one with the good heart, but the truth is, he’s always had such a good heart himself. He never could see how incredible he is, and that therapy session showed how much he still struggles with that.
I wish I knew how to help him see himself the way I see him. I’ve always wished that.
The door to Blake’s old room is cracked open. We let Marguerite have it, so she has her own space, and we’ve got security in the hall all night anyway, so we don’t have to worry about anyone coming or going unnoticed through the kids’ hallway door. Marguerite peeks out and gives us a wave, then shuts the door to give us some family privacy.
“Mom! Dad!” Luke squeals, after a belated moment in which he rights a toppled Lego tower—probably knocked over by Costanza in his run over to us. “I tried a new food today! It had cheese and it was so good, and it was called . . . something.” His little brow furrows adorably.
“Arepas,” Ivy’s voice sounds from the floor between her bed and the wall. “Marguerite says they’re Columbian.”
“Sounds awesome,” Blake says, and I smile. I’m doubtful there was a single vegetable in there, but any time Lukas is willing to put a new food in his mouth, it’s worth a celebration.
“Are you hiding back there, Ivy?” I ask.
“I dropped my favorite purple marker,” she says sourly.Then her head pops up, and she climbs up on the bed and marks a paper in her hand with the purple marker. She clears her throat dramatically. “I just finished my list.” She stares both Blake and me down, her lips pressed together tightly.
I feel a knot in my gut. When was the last time I saw my little girl really smile? Certainly not in the last several days. Well before Blake and I got back together, really, but this isn’t helping.
“Okay, good,” Blake says. He looks over at me, and I can see he’s not any more enthused to have this conversation than I am, especially so soon after the therapy session we haven’t had time to really process. But being a parent generally means having the conversations you least want to have at the times that are most inconvenient to have them.
I want to take his hand and hold it, but I’m not sure we should rub our togetherness in Ivy’s face at this exact moment. So I sit down in the nearest armchair and press my hands to my knees. “Do you want to go over it now? And Luke, do you have your list?”
Ivy nods curtly, and Luke springs up. “I do! A whole list!” He bounds across his bed to the nightstand, and pulls a paper out of the drawer. From what I can tell, there’s only a few short words scattered randomly on the page and a bunch of Star Wars stickers.
Ivy’s, on the other hand, is printed in her meticulously neat handwriting, and, as I suspected, color-coded.
I hold in a sigh. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
Blake takes the chair next to mine. Costanza, surprisingly, goes over to him and sits on his feet.This would make me all the happy, except I’m dreading hearing what Ivy will have to say.
Her voice still rings in my head.What happens the next time you get divorced?
“Fine.” She sits primly on the edge of the bed. “First problem: I have friends at Dad’s condo, and I only see them when I’m over there.”
That seems an easy enough obstacle to overcome. Apparently Blake agrees, because he nods and says, “The condo and the ranch aren’t that far from each other. We can still bring you over to see your friends there anytime you want.”
Ivy’s chin juts out. “But I also want to keep my bedroom at the condo and my bedroom at the ranch, because I like both my beds and—”
“This sounds like a separate problem,” I say. “I think it’s Luke’s turn now.”
Ivy’s mouth snaps shut, but she stays silent.
Luke brightens and looks down at his paper.Then he squints as he tries to remember any worries he had. “Oh, yeah! I don’t want to lose my Legos. I have Legos at both houses.”
Another easy one. “You won’t lose any Legos, honey,” I say. “When Dad moves into the ranch, you can bring all the Legos and all your other toys over from the condo, and you’ll have them all at the ranch.”
Luke opens his mouth, but Ivy cuts him off.
“My turn,” she says. “I want to keep both my bedrooms.” She says this like a challenge; she knows we’re not about to give her a second bedroom in the same house—not that the ranch doesn’t have the space for it, but we’ve never been the type of parents to indulge our kids’ every whim.
