We walked to the parking lot in silence. As Alex started the car, he looked over at me and said, “That guy’s a quack.” I didn’t respond. “Right?” he said.
“I guess.”
“We’ll find someone better, Dani.”
But we didn’t. Instead, we muscled through four more bad experiences with different therapists. We continued to be miserable because neither one of us wanted to make the effort. Now it’s too late. Now I’m the one avoiding. Sitting in my house, stuck in the past when what I should be doing is finding someone to pick up the boys tomorrow. I should be planning my pitch. I need to sell myself as a showrunner.
Ethan walks into the kitchen. I’m in a daze. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Jose’s mom can pick us up and take us to their house until you’re done with your meeting.”
I look up at him. He appears sympathetic. “Did you call her and ask for me?”
“I just texted Jose and he asked her. It’s no big deal, Mom. A lot of kids walk or ride their bikes and then go home to an empty house until their parents get home from work.”
Inside I feel appalled, but on the outside I’m trying to stay cool. “That road is not safe for you guys to ride your bikes on.”
“I know. That’s why I asked Jose if we could go to his house.”
I nod. He’s trying to help, and heishelping. It’s also becoming clear to me that I need to cool it with the helicopter parenting. I need to prepare myself for the days when Alex and I will be legally divorced. He’ll be taking the boys places I’ve never been, with people I don’t know, and I will have absolutely no knowledge of it. Maybe there will even be a new woman there. She’ll wish the boys calledher “Mom” instead of me. She’ll want them to tell her they love her, or that they like her more than me. My boys never will. They will never betray me.
“Mom!”
I shake my head back to planet Earth.
“Yeah, I’m sorry.”
“Your face is bright red, you look like a tomato. What is wrong?” Ethan says, his eyeballs darting back and forth.
“Do you think I’m a good mom?” Never before have I stooped this low. “I mean, do you ever wish I was different?”
“Like a mom who doesn’t make us do chores?” He smiled. He was teasing. “No. I don’t wish you were someone else, that’s ridiculous.” It’s equal parts pride-inducing and humbling to be put in your place by your twelve-year-old son.
“When Dad and I divorce officially, which is going to happen very soon…” I stop myself and yell for Noah. “Noah, get down here. Family meeting!”
Ethan is watching me like he thinks I might be clinically insane.
“Coming,” I hear Noah say from upstairs.
“You and Dad have never said the wordsfamily meeting,” Ethan says in a low voice.
“Well, I’m having one now.”
“What’s up?” Noah says as he enters the kitchen. It seems like the boys have grown a whole foot in one year.
“Sit down.” I gesture to the barstools.
I begin calmly. “I know Dad’s not here…” I pause. They look around the kitchen and both arch their eyebrows, indicating that I am stating the obvious. “It’s not really a family meeting, but I think he’ll agree with everything I’m about to tell you. He’ll probably have a similar discussion with you in his own way.”
Who am I kidding? No, he won’t. He’s a steel trap.
“What’s up, Mom,” Noah says.
“Your father and I are getting a divorce.”
“We know,” Ethan says. “You guys have told us like ten thousand times.”
Noah says, “It’s about time.”
“You want us to get divorced?” I say.
