I raise my gaze to complete silence. Shocked silence? Maeve’s hands are splayed over her heart, so are Kayla’s and Corrie’s.
“That was beautiful,” Maeve says.
Corrie pouts. “You didn’t make it in the show?”
I shake my head.
“No worries,” she says. “You’ll make it next time, I’m sure.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you okay?” Kayla asks, concern written all over her face. “It’s obvious that you miss John.”
I look down at my notebook. A lump in my throat threatens to break me apart. I can’t look at them, because if I do, I know I’ll lose it. “I do. It’s hard.”
Maeve rests a hand on my shoulder. “I read somewhere that the early years are the toughest… when the kids are small. It’ll get better.”
“You know what you need,” Corrie chimes in. “When that husband of yours gets back, he can look after the kids, and we’re taking you out on a girls’ night, and getting you drunk.”
We all laugh, and the golf ball in my throat disappears. I’m so grateful for my friends. They always make me feel better, and I honestly don’t know what I’d do without them.
* * *
As soon as I get home, I feed the kids leftovers for lunch. They tell me all about the game of Candy Land they played with Anna. And I promise to take them to the play center later in the afternoon. “But first,” I tell them, “Mommy needs to do some work on the computer.”
I snap a photo of my living room, taking care to remove all the junk on the sofa; Emma’s Barbies, Theo’s books and Rubik’s Cube, and my iPad. I position the cushions just so, and smile when I think back to about ten years ago, when we first bought our house. I’d spent a year poring over decorating magazines. I’d also spent a lot of money. Ten years later, our home still looks fabulous.
I haven’t played around with Photoshop in a while but it’s all coming back to me. I insert my favorite artwork of his, the one with the boats, and it looks amazing, much better than the actual artwork displayed on my walls; two floral paintings I did years ago.
I’m giddy as I put it all together, and copy it back to my phone. I haven’t been this excited about anything in a long time.
I check my phone obsessively all day, but there is no response. I know I’m acting crazy but I can't help it. What time is it where he is? I Google it and learn that he’s six hours ahead of me. It’s Sunday night for him. He’s probably out with friends, or his girlfriend. Or maybe he’s playing a game of Euchre at the seniors’ center, for all I know. I picture an old man with a cane and a hunched back. This is driving me crazy. I check him out on Google, but all I come up with are other Eli Kellys living in other parts of the world. Any images pertaining to him are of his artwork. There’s also a glass artist who goes by the name of Eli Kelly — he’s quite good.
I’m at the play center, reading the latest Sophie Kinsella novel on my phone when a message pops up. My heart skips a beat, but settles when it realizes it’s just a text from John.
Getting back home around nine o’clock tonight. Can’t wait to see you and the kids. Xo John
—
Great, looking forward to seeing you. Xo Gabbie
I’m back to my book, engrossed in the story when Eli’s message pops up. My heart instantly goes into overdrive. And I forget all about my reading.
Chapter Four
I love it! It looks great in your living area. You have great taste,he writes.
—
Thank you. So do you.
—
Are you an interior designer?
—
No. I used to work as a Marketing Manager for a food company, branding and stuff like that. I’m a stay-at-home mom now, and I like to dabble with art a bit.
