I walk over to the window and stare out. It’s darker than I’ve gotten used to, since the outside lights aren’t on. With Haley gone for her sleepover, there didn’t seem to be any point. And honestly, I wasn’t in the mood for it.
Therecouldbe a reasonable explanation for Ronan’s behavior. I’ve reminded myself of that probably a dozen times this evening. He said he wasn’t feeling well, after all. And considering the week he’s had—shifts at Stowe, his work for GMG, clearing his driveway and mine after our most recent snowstorm the other day, and finally capping it off with a skilesson and the Winter Wonderland Walk, it’s not a surprise that he’d be feeling under the weather.
It’s just… I have this pit in my stomach. It feels like something bad is coming, and I’m powerless to do anything but wait for it.
Iwantto think nothing’s changed between Ronan and me.
But then, why didn’t he touch me? Why didn’t he say he’d call? Why, when I asked if I could do anything to help, did he get this weird look on his face before he said no?
With yet another sigh—like a little steam engine, my mom used to tease, back when I was a moody teenager and used to walk around the house, sighing—I shut the curtains and turn away from the window. Scanning the room, I try to come up with something to do. But none of the things I’d normally do when Haley’s at a friend’s house hold any appeal.
I don’t want to watch TV. I’ve already cleaned the house more than enough. It’s too late to bake anything, and I’m not really in the mood for it, anyway.
For a second, I think about getting out my art supplies. I’ve been toying with the idea of making something for Ronan, since he was so tickled by the artwork I showed him. I thought it would be nice to give him something handmade. Something that means more than anything I’d get in a store.
But now… I don’t know what’s going on with him. And I’m not feeling creative at all.
As I look around the room, another thing my mom used to say comes to mind.“There’s nothing gained by assuming the worst.”She said it a lot when I was pregnant and panicking about all the terrible things that might happen after Haley was born.“What’s gained by assuming the worst? So you spend all this time thinking about bad things that haven’t even happened yet? That accomplishes nothing. Focus on the here and now, honey. That’s what’s important.”
She was right. And I know the same thing stands true now. The only problem is; it’s really hard to keep perspective when I just have this awful feeling…
Maybe it would be easier to stay positive if I didn’t have the spectre of Justin hanging over me. He hasn’t texted me in a week, but every time my phone buzzes, I’m convinced it’s another message from him.
My lawyer says it’s fine, and that I shouldn’t worry. He says that if Justin pushes for custody, no judge would actually grant it to him. So far, Justin’s only been asking to talk, so maybe that’s where it’ll end.
Still, I told Garrett not to let Haley go anywhere on her own. Not that I think he would—he’s probably more overprotective than me—but better safe than sorry.
It didn’t help seeing Justin’s mom, Sharon, today. At least, I’m pretty sure it was her. I only met her a couple times back in college, so it’s not like my memory of her is good. But I could have sworn I saw her shopping at one of the vendor booths at the Wonderland Walk.
She didn’t notice me, thank goodness. Although I’m not sure she would have recognized me if she had. At first, I was surprised, since I remember Justin saying his parents lived south of here, in Bennington. But, of course, it’s possible she moved. People do that.
Anyway, it’s not like it’sherfault that Justin’s an irresponsible jerk.
Although, if I had a son and he deserted his own kid,I’dwonder if I did something wrong. I’d wonder if somehow I failed to teach him something important.
With thoughts of Justin and Sharon spinning in my head, I hurry to the coffee table and snatch up my phone. Then I send a quick text to Haley, who has my extra pay-by-the-minute cell phone that she’s only allowed to use for special occasions.
Hey, sweetie. How’s your sleepover going? Are you having fun?
I’m not worried about her being asleep. If this sleepover is anything like the ones we’ve had here, she and Tess will be up giggling until well after midnight. Then she’ll come home cranky tomorrow, refuse to take a nap, and I’ll have to navigate her mood for the rest of the day.
A wry chuckle escapes as I watch the little three dots blink on my phone. Sleepovers aren’t nearly as much fun for the parents. But if Haley enjoys it, that’s what’s important.
Haley’s reply appears on my screen.
It’s great! We had popcorn and cookies and chips. I made three bracelets. And we watched Elf. Now we’re doing our nails and watching The Christmas Chronicles.
Some of the tension I’ve been carrying releases. Haley’s fine. Safe. Happy. Just how I want her to be.
Smiling, I send my response.
I’m glad you’re having fun.
My finger hovers over the screen as I fight with myself not to tell her to go to sleep at a reasonable time. And not to eat any more junk.
But it’s a sleepover. Staying up late and eating junk is a critical part of it.
So, instead, I finish the text with something more positive.
