Page 38 of Margins

Please let me know when you’re home safe

So he does, and then he goes inside to do just about anything but sleep.

He’s a zombie the next morning, but there are no more messages from Elijah, and Alex forces himself out of the house for a run on legs that spend the entire time screaming at him. He eats and tastes nothing and showers and feels little, but Cassidy will drop Elena off that night, and while it’s not even a little bit fair for him to rely on his kid to cheer him up, Alex is grateful for the easy reason to smile for a week, fully unsure what he’ll do with his free time after that. Thanksgiving is coming up, and he’s not sure he’s dreaded a day like this in a very, very long time, his entire family poised to push and pull and observe and condemn, all in the name of love.

But that will be then, and this is now, and when he hears Cassidy and Elena pull up outside, he moves to the front door and opens it for his daughter.

And Cass is there, too.

“Hey, I didn’t think we were walking her to the door anymore,” he mumbles stupidly, Elena already running past him and upstairs to put her stuff away.

Cassidy smiles. “No, we’re not. Not really. But I wanted to talk to you about something and now—now I’m kinda wondering if what I was going to talk to you about is the same reason you look like—”

She trails off and sort of waves her hand toward his face, but it’s unnecessary when he can assume just how terrible he looks, though he’s avoided mirrors all day just for the sake of sparing himself some of the probably well-earned pain.

“I’m flattered,” he says as he backs up and holds the door wide open. “You want to come in?”

“Sure.”

“You want a drink?”

“Sure.”

Alex nods and moves into the kitchen, grateful when he finds an unopened bottle of Jameson he thinks Cassidy probably should’ve taken with her when she moved out, and he returns to her side with two glasses in hand just as Elena skips back down the stairs.

“Hey, bug, how about you grab our blankets and get started with the TV while mommy and I go out back to talk for a little bit?” he says, turning toward his daughter even as he presses the drink into Cassidy’s waiting hand.

Elena looks back and forth between them, and Cassidy is quick to reassure her. “We’re just talking, babe.”

“And I’ll make us some popcorn as soon as we come back inside, okay?” Alex offers.

His daughter still looks a little skeptical, the last several talks between her parents resulting in their impending divorce, but she’s been bought off by a bribe or ten before and it works again for now.

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees.

He and Cass make their way outside and close the sliding door most of the way behind them, the night cold, but the patio heater quick to change that for them as they sit down, everything about this so painfully familiar when it’s nothing like it was before. Alex looks out over what used to be their backyard and takes a long sip from his glass.

“So,” she starts, and somehow he already knows what the next word will be, even while he isn’t prepared for it at all, the sound foreign on his ex’s tongue. “Elijah.”

“Elijah,” he echoes.

“He was your early morning walk.”

“My new habit,” he confirms. “Elena told you.”

It’s not exactly a question, but she shrugs and answers. “Not in so many words, but she's used the phrase ‘Daddy’s friend, Elijah’ enough times for me to wonder. Mentioned that he came over for dinner, too.”

“Yeah, I guess I’ve heard plenty about Michael.”

“Ah, but she and Michael have never met,” she says. “Which is what I originally wanted to talk to you about. Introducing our kid to significant others without a heads up about it.”

Alex looks over at her, startled by at least a couple of things she said and doing his best to stay calm while the thump of his heart underscores his attempt at a response. “I—I’ll admit I hadn’t thought about it one way or another, and that’s—I didn’t realize she and Michael hadn’t met yet, but also I swear I didn’t—I really had no idea what Elijah and I were going to become when I invited him over that night. And for what it’s worth, I’m not sure we’re significant anything now.”

“Yeah, the fact that you look like shit kinda gave that much away.”

“Thanks.”

“Of course,” she murmurs. “Wanna tell me about it?”

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