The Girl in Seat 24B Page 18

  “Carly,” he interrupted. “Did you tell the kids I didn’t love you?”

  “Oh, they’re pretty smart. I didn’t have to.”

  Chapter 18

  So what Michael meant when he said he would respond was that he would only respond to half of the email. First he berated me for even thinking that he would want half of the trade-in value. “Do you really think I would stoop that low?” he asked. Then he sent me several links about safety ratings and he offered his opinion. He assumed I would want an SUV; he didn’t see me driving a minivan. He knew how much I loved the 4Runner, and he informed they made a model now with third row seating. He suggested I take a look at that. “Take my dad with you,” he wrote. Then he told me I could send the title to Joseph Xavier’s campaign headquarters in South Carolina; they would forward it to him, and he would overnight it back to me. He sent the address and that was it.

  “Thank you. But did you only read half of my email?” I wrote back.

  I got a very quick response of, “No.”

  I just let it drop for the night; he was grating on my nerves. As I sat in bed, I realized just how yucky I felt about him. I had been trying so hard for months to remember that I loved him and not to be negative, but did I need to do that anymore? Ok, I knew I shouldn’t be negative, at least for my own good, but I needed to start to let go. I had hung on so tight to the idea that it would work out between us that I never stopped to think about really letting go and what that meant. I knew it meant I would eventually have to forgive him, but that was going to take time and a lot of it. But what else did it mean? I decided to sleep on it.

  I woke up early and just laid there and felt my baby move in the early dawn light. I was so anxious to meet her. As she moved, I was reminded that I was on my own for this one and what that meant. I knew I needed to move on, so I decided I was going to start by focusing my energy toward other facets of my life. Yes, Michael had been my world, but this was the dawning of my own world. The canvas was being redone; the kids were now the backdrop and I would learn to fill in. The first brushstroke was going to be my art.

  I threw the covers off and decided we were going shopping. The kids weren’t going to be thrilled with the idea or what I had in store with the new clothing we would be purchasing, but they would survive. I needed something to take my mind off of their daddy, and this was a start.

  I drug the kids from store to store trying to patiently deal with their whining as I searched for the perfect outfits for our photo shoot that would happen the next day in the soft morning light. It only took thirteen stores, one temper tantrum, four potty breaks, some sweat, tears and ice cream, but in the end, I was completely satisfied. I had the perfect beautiful flowing white gowns for Mia and myself and a very handsome white linen shirt and natural color pants for Ashton. That night I also made a muted pink flowered headband for Mia.

  The next morning I tried my hardest not to think about the fact that this would be our first family pictures without Michael, but I was finding it difficult, especially as I gazed in Ashton’s eyes. Just breathe and take one moment at a time, I thought. So that’s what I did, I took a deep breath and positioned my babies in the flowered meadow, and together, with the help of a remote control, we took several shots with lots of different poses. There were shots of them hugging my belly, shots of them kissing it, shots of them with chalkboard signs that read “big brother” and “big sister” on them. I even took some shots of just me in the romantic light of morning.

  Beyond wanting to capture this moment in time for my family, I wanted to showcase my abilities on my website. I had decided to start a blog called Studio Outtakes on my website. My hope was to increase my social media presence and to give myself another outlet. I already had quite a few followers on Facebook, but I hoped this would increase traffic and communication.

  As I uploaded and sorted the photos that night on my laptop, I was pleased with the results at first glance. I quickly whittled down the one-hundred-plus shots to a more manageable forty. It was then that my phone rang. I knew who it was, no one else ever called this late. I almost didn’t answer it. I was beyond annoyed with him. I wanted a quick divorce, and he was making that difficult. I talked to my lawyer about it today, and he said if Michael could get his own attorney here, that attorney could act as his representative and the summons could be delivered there. It sounded like the best option since Michael made it sound like it was going to be impossible for him to receive certified mail.

  “Hi,” I said curtly.

  “Am I interrupting something?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “I can call back,” he offered.

  “That’s ok. I wanted to tell you I talked to my lawyer today and he recommended you get your own here, that way he could just send the summons to your attorney on your behalf. This way the petition won’t expire while you’re gone. I think it’s a good plan.”

  Insert a long pause.

  “Michael?”

  “I’m here.”

  “So, can you do that?”

  “Carly, this is really a bad time for me. I don’t just want to pick some attorney out of the yellow pages. Can’t this just wait until I get back?”

  “No it can’t! I want this done and over with. I haven’t asked anything of you and I’m not even asking anything of you in the divorce! I’ll even get you some good recommendations, just please do this one thing for me!”

  “Carly, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  I couldn’t help it. The anger wouldn’t let the tears subside. I don’t even know why I stayed on the phone and let him listen to me cry. And now I would have to restart my calendar of how many days it had been since I cried over Michael. It was only at one day, so it wasn’t much of a record, but still, I had to start over.

  “Please,” I begged again.

  “Carly… I don’t…”

  “You don’t what?” I asked.

  “I’ll do some research, but it will have to be next week,” he hastily answered.

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  Chapter 19

  With endings came new beginnings. Summer vacation was over and my marriage was too, but on the bright side, school started and I received tons of positive reviews and posts over the weekend on the maternity shoot I did of myself and the kids. Some of it was even a little embarrassing and overboard. I hadn’t meant to seek for all of the compliments. I honestly was posting the pictures to showcase my abilities, but I’ve never had so many people tell me how beautiful they thought I was. But hey, at thirty-one weeks pregnant, I’d take it. There were also several comments about the written part of the blog. The blog centered around new beginnings and how I felt about my children, those born and unborn. I didn’t mention anything about divorce or Michael. I wanted to keep it positive and about me and the kids. I was trying to move on, even though I felt like I was horrible at it.

  I’ll admit, I pictured Michael being the one kissing my belly or gently placing his hand on it as he smiled at me like we alone shared a wonderful secret. Then I switched to picturing myself kneeing him in the groin for everything that he had and was putting us through. I had to remind myself that I had been with him for almost twelve years and that I wasn’t just going to be able to magically move on from that.

  So many things were just glaring reminders, like all the paperwork I had to fill out for Mia and Ashton at the start of school. It was the first year I would have to fill out different addresses for each parent. I also had to write under the “Any special circumstances we should know about?” section that my husband and I were currently going through a divorce (or at least trying to, if the idiot would ever pick a lawyer). I was so depressed by the time I finished filling out paper after paper that I decided we were going out to eat and inviting Mimi and Papa.

  I wanted to thank them anyway. Jack had come early to the house that morning and helped me take the kids to school for their first day. Ashton and Mia both loved it, so much so they eac
h took one of his hands as we walked to the elementary school in our neighborhood. I didn’t mind in the least. He deserved every bit of attention those two paid him. Without him, I don’t know what I would have done; especially where Ashton was concerned. He and his dad were too much alike, they could both be brooding and quiet and apt to bottle in emotions. Even with Jack’s help, Ashton was still upset with his dad. Every day I asked if he wanted to talk with his dad when he called, and each time so far he’d declined.

  On the walk back from school, when it was just Jack and I, we discussed Ashton and his unwillingness to talk to his dad. His advice was to just to give it some time and that Ashton would come around.

  “Does it sound terrible if I say I don’t want to talk to him either?” I asked.

  Jack chuckled.

  “I just wish he’d hurry up and get a lawyer already, so we can all move on with our lives.”

  “Hmm …” Jack said as we approached my house.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I probably shouldn’t say.”

  I stopped at the mailbox at the end of my drive. “Well now you have to tell me.”

  He looked thoughtfully at me with those kind brown eyes of his. He hemmed and hawed as we stood there. “I just got the feeling when I went over to knock some sense into my son that he wasn’t sold on the whole divorce thing.”

  “You’re kidding me, right? That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  Jack pursed his lips together. “I don’t think it even makes sense to Mike. I think he’s the most confused out of all of us.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. It was time to stick a fork in our marriage; it was done, and I was sure Michael thought so too. He had wanted this back in March. Now it was just an inconvenience, that was why he was dragging his feet, not because he wanted to stay married. If only I would have listened then. Oh well, I guess this way I’d never wonder.

  But Jack’s comments were just the beginning of the weird and odd things that started happening in my life. First, we began to receive a lot of extra mail. Michael began sending postcards to the kids from each city and state the campaign stopped through, some days the kids would receive two or three cards each. He didn’t write much on them, maybe a fun little fact or two about the place, but each card ended with how much he loved and missed them.

  Those postcards were probably the only thing that kept me from metaphorically and physically wringing his neck because apparently he had time to write postcards, but not to find a lawyer. Every day I would ask him about it, and every day he was working on it, or so he said. Again, I was so thrilled that he was making an effort to stay connected to the kids, but really, how hard was it to find a lawyer? It took me no time at all.

  The postcards also opened the door back up for Ashton. He finally agreed to talk to his dad after a week of receiving those little notes. My little man even got a little choked up when he said, “I love you Dad.” Even I teared up. There went my streak again. I was up to four days this time. It wasn’t huge streak, but I figured for a pregnant hormonal woman, it was pretty good.

  I too started receiving extra deliveries. Not postcards or mail, but large packages. First, it was a car seat. Not just any car seat either, it was top-of-the-line and quite expensive. It was called a Carcoon. It was supposed to be the safest car seat around. Then I received a baby swing that looked just as space-aged as the car seat, but it too was highly rated and expensive. I had a feeling Michael was determined to make up for the money that my garbage disposal ate. Yes, he wasn’t thrilled at all when he’d found out where that check had ended up. My last package was a beautiful dark wood high chair with cream colored padding that matched the kitchen beautifully.

  I had no choice but to call him and thank him every time a package arrived. It was like he did it on purpose. I had threatened on a few occasions that I would refuse to speak to him until he got an attorney, but he always had some excuse for why that wasn’t possible. Everything from he was just plain busy to he’d interviewed this one or that one and there was always something wrong with them.

  “A divorce lawyer isn’t a lifelong commitment. Just pick one already!” I admonished him.

  “I just want to make sure I do this the right way,” he said.

  “Is there really a right way to get divorced?” I responded sarcastically.

  “I suppose not.”

  I just begged him to hurry. I was already thirty-three weeks by this point. That’s when the really bizarre stuff began to happen. I put pictures of the nursery up on my blog and wrote about my inspiration for the photo wall and how we would all be represented as soon as my little one made her entrance into this world. Before I knew it, I was a hit in the social media arena, at least for a brief moment. My pictures were being pinned over and over again on Pinterest. I had several shares on Facebook. I was being bombarded for requests for quotes to do similar designs for other people. My nursery even ended up being the window picture for my new friend Laura’s baby boutique.

  Still pregnant, I couldn’t accept any jobs to design rooms, but I kept everyone’s info and told them I would get back to them at the first of the year. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go into that line of work, and I wasn’t sure how I could with a newborn, but I wanted to keep my options open. I was a single mom after all, well practically. I was still working on the single part.

  I was so excited about all of the attention that I even told Michael about it the night he called after my thirty-four week appointment. I think I blathered on for ten minutes about the requests and how much everyone loved it. I rambled on how about how I was already booked for photo sessions through March. My plan was to do my last one in a couple of weeks, and then I was off through the end of the year. The words just kept falling out of my mouth about how happy I was about it all and how I couldn’t believe it. Then, inadvertently, I started talking out loud about how I would juggle the baby and work. I ran through the logistics in my head and out loud.

  “I guess you have it all figured out,” he interrupted. He sounded melancholy.

  “Yeah, I guess so. I guess it’s working out for both of us. You got your dream and I … well … I’m getting direction.”

  “Direction?” he questioned. “This isn’t your dream?”

  “No … I had to wake up from my dream.”

  “Carly … ”

  “Never mind. Anyways, did you find a lawyer?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. Your lawyer should be contacting you tomorrow.”

  “Well … good. There’s still a chance we can get this done before the baby comes.”

  “I have to run,” Michael said abruptly.

  He didn’t even say bye. I just set down my phone and thought, hmm. That was weird. But hey, at least he finally got a lawyer. It only took a month, but at least now we could move forward and the healing could begin for me. That was a nice thought…

  Mr. McRae called the next morning after I dropped the kids off at school. “Mrs. Bishop, your husband has obtained an attorney.”

  “Yes. He informed me last night.”

  “Oh good,” he sounded relieved. “Then you know that he’s contesting the divorce and has asked for a stay until he can return.”

  I had to sit down on the couch. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “On what grounds?” I spluttered. “I wasn’t even asking for anything except the house, and he’s already moved out!”

  “Well, ma’am that’s part of the problem. He insists on paying alimony and child support. He also won’t agree to give you full custody.”

  I rubbed my head. “I’m so confused.”

  “Mrs. Bishop … can I speak off the record?”

  “Sure.”

  “After talking to my brother, I get the feeling he doesn’t really want to proceed.”

  “He chose your brother for his attorney?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It’s unusual, I know, but … did you hear what I said about him not wanting to proceed?”

 
; “I did and I just don’t believe it. And regardless, I want to proceed. Do you think the stay will be granted?”

  “He makes a good case for it.”

  “AHHHH!” This wasn’t happening. “Sorry.”

  “It’s alright, ma’am. I’ll be in touch, but I really think you need to talk to your husband.”

  “Oh, believe me, I will.”

  I wasted no time dialing his number after I hung up with the attorney. Three rings and no answer, four rings, still no answer, voice mail.

  “Michael Jonathon Bishop, I have no idea what you’re playing at, but I swear you are going to make me go into labor! Why do you hate me so much?” I cried. “You left me and you left our kids and now that I’m trying to move on, you won’t let me. Why?”

  I didn’t know what else to say, so I hung up and threw my phone on the couch. I laid back and screamed into a pillow. I felt like swearing, but instead I just cried. I had forgone my no-crying–about-Michael calendar, so I couldn’t tell you how many days it had been since I last cried over him. All I knew was it was a good thing he was away or I’d be having this baby in jail.

  Within minutes, I received a text. “I just got your message. I can’t talk right now. I’ll call you tonight after the kids have gone to bed. Carly, I don’t hate you.”

  I threw the phone against the soft cushions. I just continued to lay there. Fine, I thought. I’ll just take alimony and child support. It didn’t mean I had to spend it. I would just start trust funds for the kids with it. And as far as custody went, I would change it to joint, but with me having physical. That was fair, right?

  I got up and texted Michael back my compromise and asked if that would work.

  “Please, Carly. I’ll call you tonight.”

  “Do you know how much I hate you right now?” I texted back. I had never told Michael I hated him. I wasn’t sure I had ever said that to anyone.