The Girl in Seat 24B Read online

  He came closer, which surprised me.

  “I want the same for you. That’s why I need to do this.”

  I started to cry. I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. “This may come as a surprise to you, but this makes me anything but happy.”

  “Carly, you deserve to be with someone that loves you the right way.”

  I embraced him and lay my head against his shoulder. I needed him. But he was stiff. “Why can’t you touch me, am I that repulsive to you?” So much for not making it about me. I had to try harder.

  He did touch me, but not the way I wanted him to. He gently grabbed my arms and pulled me back to stare into my eyes. “You’re beautiful, even more so now than when I met you. This is about me.”

  He was right, it was about him, and that was the problem: he was only thinking of himself.

  I backed away and walked toward our room. “At least text me when you get there, so I know you’re safe. I love you, Bishop.”

  Again, silence.

  As I showered, I wondered if I was just naïve and a glutton for punishment. He told me he didn’t love me, and I basically told him I didn’t believe him. He told me again, and I told him I loved him. Have I become one of those desperate women? I had to believe, no, that wasn’t my style. I have always believed you don’t throw families away and if something’s broke, you fix it. There was nothing in our marriage that was that so damaged it couldn’t be repaired—at least in my mind. In fact, I didn’t think there were any damages other than his moodiness the past several months, but I thought he would eventually shake it off. I guess that was what he was doing now, but I was the part he would shake off. I started crying again.

  I really needed to get that under control before the kids woke up. Since Michael was going out of town, I decided to just try and keep everything normal for the next two weeks. Maybe he would get his head on straight while he was gone and forget about all this trial separation nonsense. I mean, how do you even try that on for size? And where was he getting the money to lease an apartment? I had always let him handle the finances, but maybe it was time to take a closer look. It was probably time to take a closer look at lots of things I had been taking for granted.

  By the time I was out of the shower and dressed, Michael was gone. He hadn’t even bothered to come in and say goodbye. Before, when he left on any trips, long or short, he would wrap me up tight and kiss me, and then let me go just to pull me back again and say, “One more for the road.” He would kiss me again and whisper in my ear, “I love you, Twenty-four B.”

  Twenty-four B. He used to call me that all the time. He even named his blog The Girl in Seat 24B. There for a while he had quite the following; his initial blog post about our meeting had gone viral. He was even interviewed by The Today Show and Good Morning America about it. Every week thousands of people would read his blog about our adventures in dating and finally marriage. He quit writing on that particular blog after Mia was born. His excuse was he needed to be a more serious writer. The blog was still up, but he hadn’t touched it for years. Once in a while, a fan would message him and ask for an update, but he never touched the blog again.

  Sometimes, when I felt like reminiscing, I would read through those old posts and laugh and cry. Just thinking about them now had me tearing up. I wanted that man, the man that chased me across the country and wooed me and asked me to marry him before we even knew each other for two months. He didn’t relent until I finally said yes. I can’t even remember why I kept saying no. I knew he was the one, but it was crazy; I met him on a plane for goodness sake, we hardly knew each other, and my parents hadn’t even had the chance to meet him. Only my older sister Melanie had; she hated him, but she hated all men, so she didn’t count.

  Then I thought about my parents and cried some more. They had died from the bombings in India at the U.S. consulate only a year after we were married. Michael was my rock and my pillow. He was a safe landing when I fell apart, and he also upheld me when I needed to be strong and stand upright. I was beginning to feel very alone. My mom was my best friend growing up because we had moved so much. I loved Melanie, but she had always had a huge chip on her shoulder. And now my best friend had hammered my rock to pieces and pulled the pillow out from under me.

  I thought about calling Melanie, but I knew she would only make it worse. It would only give her more reasons to hate Michael, and I was planning on making this work out. I didn’t want to give her any more ammo than she already had. She hated Michael for moving me to Georgia from Colorado. No matter how many times I told her it was a joint decision, she blamed him. I asked her on several occasions to consider moving near us; she wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, but she wouldn’t even consider it. Her reasons included hating the humidity and missing out on the snow, but yet every year she called and complained about all the snow in Colorado. I didn’t know if I would ever get her. Sometimes I swore one of us was switched at birth.

  If only Michael would talk to me, really talk to me, like he used to. He was the one I needed to work this out with, but that seemed like it wasn’t an option at the moment. I just took a deep breath and styled my hair and put on my make-up. I needed to cover the dark circles my crying had created. I didn’t want Ashton and Mia to think anything was wrong; they didn’t deserve this burden. I went into mommy mode and made pancakes before waking them up. They were both like their daddy, they needed to eat quickly after rising or they were grumpy.

  I sat on the edge of Ashton’s bed and began to sing, “Once Upon a Dream.”

  Ashton woke up first. “Mom, I’m seven now. I’m too big for you to sing to me.”

  I ruffled his blonde hair and sang louder. He scrunched his cute nose at me.

  Mia finally opened those pretty green eyes of hers. “I love that song, Mommy.”

  We had only watched Sleeping Beauty like a hundred times. I would twirl her around and sing along when that song began. I pulled them both to me and hugged them as tight as I could. It was like I was drawing strength from them. For them, I would do whatever it took to make this all right. For them, I would be strong and do everything in my power to protect them.

  “Time to eat.”

  That was all it took to have them out of bed and zooming down the stairs. I chased them down and to the table.

  “Where’s Daddy?” were the first words out of Mia’s mouth.

  I picked her up. “Daddy had to leave early this morning for New York. Remember where New York is?”

  “At the top,” she said.

  “You’re right, it’s at the top of the United States.”

  I had been working with them on memorizing the states and where they were. I loved globes and maps.

  “Well, Daddy will be working there for a couple of weeks.”

  They were both disappointed. I still couldn’t believe he hadn’t said anything about leaving. Our kids needed their goodbyes from him. I needed them too. Oh well. Back to mommy mode.

  I served up the pancakes, and as they scarfed them down, I could barely touch mine. I felt nauseous from the previous night’s events. But then I thought maybe I was catching a bug. I hadn’t felt that well for the past of couple of days and I was tired. Maybe I could sneak a nap in later while Mia was at preschool.

  We made lunches together, and then they scooted up to get dressed and brush their teeth. I came up to supervise the hair combing and to place a butterfly barrette in Mia’s hair. She had been obsessed with butterflies ever since we went to the butterfly pavilion on our vacation in Colorado the previous year.

  When I thought about that trip in October, it hit me: that was when Michael had begun acting out of character. Sure he’d always been a little rough around the edges, but the kids and I had seemed to soften those edges over the years. He was upset with me when I wouldn’t leave the kids with my sister so just he and I could get away for a couple of days in the mountains. It’s not that I didn’t want to be with him, but my sister is horrible with kids and it didn’t feel
right. He was so resentful, no matter how I tried to explain it. I even offered to do something with him as soon as we got home so his parents could be the ones to watch them. His mom hated me, but she adored her grandkids. I’ve always felt comfortable with Michael’s parents watching our kids. Michael accused me of loving the kids more than him. It was true, I loved them differently, but not more. They were completely different types of relationships. I’d always tried to put Michael first.

  From then on, it was like he looked for any situation where the kids came first, he even seem to twist scenes. He had also become more critical of my parenting style. He thought I should be tougher. I disagreed; it wasn’t me, and I knew that’s not what Ashton and Mia needed. I even found myself asking Michael to be gentler with his words when it came to them. He had become short and impatient with them. Ashton had particularly felt it and he had even asked me why Daddy didn’t love him as much anymore. That broke my heart. Of course I told him his Daddy loved him just as much, but kids know when things aren’t right.

  Even this morning I noticed Ashton looking pensive when I told him his daddy was on a trip. It worried me, especially since Ashton was like his daddy and had a tendency to bottle feelings. Not Mia, she was like me. She just put it all out there. I made a mental note to keep an eye on Ashton’s behavior and to also remind Michael that this wasn’t just about him.

  Chapter 3

  With the kids both at school, I began taking a closer look. I headed up to Michael’s office. I had wanted that room to be a nursery, but Michael was happy with a boy and girl. “We have the best of both worlds,” he would always say. Me, I always felt like we were missing someone, that not everyone had joined the party. I know it sounds weird, but I could never shake the feeling, and I had been trying to change Michael’s mind for years, to no avail. He used to tease me we could practice all we want. At this point, I could do with some practicing, or even a warm up, but even that didn’t seem to be in the cards for him.

  Never mind.

  I looked around his office at all of his awards and pictures of us and the kids. They were such happy memories from our honeymoon in Tahiti to the day we brought Ashton and Mia home from the hospital. He even had his ticket framed from flight 416. My heart was telling me he still loved me, he just needed to remember. But then I started looking through his filing cabinet; I found a bank statement for an account that only belonged to him, and it had several thousand dollars in it. I also found several brochures for apartments in the area.

  He definitely wasn’t acting like a man in love. He wasn’t acting like my man.

  We didn’t we have any secrets, or so I thought. We had decided at the beginning that we would be open and honest even if it was painful because at least then it would be out in the open and we could deal with it. In discovering he had a secret bank account, I found I had a lot to deal with. I had no idea how long he had had that account. The only draw I could see on it for the last couple of months was to what I assumed was his apartment. It looked like he had leased at Magnolia Heights. They were new apartments that had just been built and were a couple of miles from our home. The deposit was for a thousand dollars.

  I felt anger welling up inside me. I had to employ all my determination not to pick up the phone and ask him what this was all about. Or at least leave him a scathing message. Secret accounts and secret apartments and now secret trips? It made me wonder if he really was telling the truth about not having an affair. I took a deep breath and told myself to remain calm. No sense in making up more problems until I actually knew they existed.

  It still didn’t stop me from vomiting. What little I had eaten all came up. At least I felt better, maybe it was just a short passing bug. I hoped the kids didn’t get it. I lay on my made bed and decided to take a short nap before I had to pick up Mia. I was asleep before I even thought about it. When I woke up, I still felt crappy, but it didn’t matter, moms don’t have time to be sick, especially ones that had rugs pulled out from under them. I needed to come up with an offensive plan and stop playing defense.

  On my drive over to the preschool, I thought about what my next steps should be. I thought if I started up my photography business again, at least just part time, maybe that would take some pressure off of Michael and he could look for employment that made him happier, even if it wasn’t as lucrative. And we always had the trust fund my parents left me as a cushion, if needed. We were saving it as our nest egg, but maybe we could use some of it now if it would help. I put a pin in that thought and focused more on the photography. I mean, Mia would be in school full-time starting in August.

  As I waited in the car line to pick up Mia, I received a text from Michael. “I just landed.”

  I sighed. Where was the “Love, Bishop” or the “I miss you?”

  “Thanks for letting me know. Please call me later when you get a chance,” I texted back.

  “It’s going to be a late night.”

  I was getting beyond frustrated. “Mia and Ashton want to talk to their daddy.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Thankfully, I was wearing sunglasses as the tears formed again. I wasn’t even worth calling now. But I gave Mia a big smile when she got in the car. Just hearing her say, “Mommy,” made me feel better.

  We got home, and I made Mia lunch and barely kept myself from vomiting again. I guess it wasn’t going to be a quick, passing bug. I let Mia eat picnic-style on my bedroom floor while I pulled out my laptop and began researching how to create websites and how much photographers with my skill set were charging these days. I also researched how to use social media to advertise. In between, I threw up again. At least I felt better for a little while after.

  After school was always busy; we had ballet, soccer practice, and of course dinner, which I had no desire to make. Just the thought of food was making me ill, so I did the daddy thing. After soccer and ballet were done, we stopped at the kids’ favorite fast food place that I abhorred. But as long as I didn’t have to eat it or see it, I was ok. Or at least I thought I was. As the smell permeated my 4Runner, I quickly rolled down the windows. We made it home just in time for me to throw up again.

  I was so thankful when bed time rolled around. I just needed to rest. I knew I would feel right as rain in the morning if I could just sleep. The only damper was that Michael never called and Ashton and Mia were disappointed. I even read extra to them to try and compensate, though it cost me physically. Normally I would clean up after I put the kids to bed and maybe read a good book, but all I wanted to do was to lie down, so I did just that.

  Around midnight I was awakened by my phone vibrating. It took all my energy to roll over and pick it up. It was a text from Michael.

  “Sorry, I just got to my hotel room. I’ll call in the morning.”

  I didn’t have the emotional or physical energy to respond. I fell right back asleep and slept straight through until my alarm went off at six. It was the worst sound I had ever heard. I wanted to cry, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. I got up and started the day. During breakfast, which was just cold cereal because it was odorless, Michael called.

  He talked to Ashton first. “Dad, you should have seen the goal I scored last night,” I heard Ashton say. He also mentioned the trip he was taking to the Art Museum later that morning.

  Mia was next and she talked a million miles a minute. “Slow down,” I could hear Michael say on the other end. I had to laugh a little at her. She tried, but it wasn’t in her. She was too excited. “And mommy keeps throwing up. Ok, love you, Daddy.”

  She handed me the phone. “Daddy wants to talk to you.”

  I was surprised. “Hey, Bishop.”

  “Are you ok? Mia says you keep throwing up.”

  “I’m fine, it’s just a bug.”

  “Maybe you should go to the doctor.”

  “Really, I’m fine.”

  “Which means you’re not.”

  I sighed. I wanted to say, of course I’m not fine. My life is cru
mbling around me.

  “I have some ideas I want to discuss with you … ” I tried to respond.

  “I’ve got go, Carly.” He just cut me off.

  “Of course you do. Bye, Michael.”

  I just hung up. I don’t even know if he responded. I was too tired to care. And I was living off of Gatorade. It was the only thing I could keep down. I lived like that the rest of the week and through the weekend.

  By Monday I was exhausted and worried. I called my doctor. Thankfully, she could get me in while both kiddos were at school. I guess it helped that we were friends. Dr. Emma White and I had met during unending soccer practices for our sons. Her husband, Jace, coached Ashton’s team and had since he was four years old. On occasion, we had a girl’s night out or our families barbecued together. It was perfect; they had a seven year old son and a four year old daughter, just like us.

  I was lying on the table when she came back to my examination room. I didn’t have the strength to keep sitting up.

  She took one look at me. “Professionally speaking, you look like crap.”

  I managed a weak smile.

  She helped me up. “How long has this been going on? You look like you’ve lost ten pounds, and you were thin to begin with.”

  “Around five to six days.”

  “You should have come in earlier.”

  “I thought it would just pass.”

  She began to examine me from head to toe while she asked me a series of questions. It was all normal stuff, but then she asked, “When was the date of your last period?” I thought back and I was having a hard time remembering. I’d had so many other things on my mind.

  She smiled. “I’m going to run a pregnancy test.”

  “No, no, no, no. I can’t be pregnant.” I started crying.

  She set down her clipboard and took my hand. “This isn’t like you, what’s going on?”

  I started crying harder. I had to talk to somebody, and she was not only bound by patient-doctor privacy laws, but she was my friend. And I needed a friend, so I told her what was going on.