Page 50 of Mother Pucker

“The girl who took part in a fried chicken eating contest at the local fast-food restaurant and won!” Dylan adds, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“The girl who danced in a damn cage over a full dance floor at a club for an entire night because she was low on cash and had to pay a late parking ticket.”

I sniffle and laugh, shaking my head. “I made so much money that night.”

My friends hug me again and I get a sense of déjà vu. We were huddled together almost exactly like this, not even three or four days ago. God, I’m a mess, aren’t I? And as much as I’m glad to have these ladies here to pick me up, I vow right here and now to figure out my shit. To forgive the woman I became while I was with Ajay and to become the woman–the mother–I want to be for the little boy I’m raising.

Giving my friends one more hug and wiping my tears, I look them in the eyes. “You guys might be surprised to hear, but I’m reverting back to some of my old spontaneous and crazy ways.”

“How so?” Liv asks, taking a seat at the table again.

“Well, for one, I’m now also the woman who got on my knees, completely naked, to beg a particular hockey player to give me back my clothes. For two, I asked said hockey player to give me better orgasms than my new fancy toy that he purchased for me. And for three . . .” I give Liv and Delia a guilty look. I’d promised Beckett I’d tell Liv and I have to honor that. “I’ve been secretly smoking again.”

“What?!” Delia practically yells. “You got on your knees for a man? Have I taught younothing?”

“Since when?” Liv asks over her, a frown pulling down her lips. “And I’m not talking about the naked begging or the orgasms–I’m all for that. I mean the cigarettes.”

“I don’t do it often, but I’m going to quit. It’s just been a way for me to . . . cope some days.”

Liv doesn’t look pleased with my response, but I know she’s just worried. “Tell us everything.”

I take in a deep breath, connecting my eyes with Dylan.

She gives me a calming nod, rolling her rose quartz in between her fingers. “I have a feeling book club is going to last a while. Why don’t I pour you a bigger glass of wine?”

And right as she brings me more wine, we hear Beckett holler from the other room, “Real funny, Dippy Doo.” He uses his nickname for Dylan. “I know it was you doing that thing with your voice again!”

I get back to my room three hours later, after tucking Kai into bed and giving him a million kisses, and reminding him for the hundredth time that he could call me if he needed to talk to meat any time and that if he told me to, I’d catch the next flight back.

As usual, my son visibly refrained from rolling his eyes at me, but mumbled, “Yes, Mom,” in a drone-like voice.

I then went back to my best friends to go through the health and well-being checklist again. It only took an hour, and I did have to shake Dylan awake a couple of times, but thankfully, we got through the seventy-two items on the list. Thankfully, she was awake for the most important items–aside from what to do in major emergencies, which all my friends were well-capable of handling–like the fact that Kai needed to be reminded to apply shea butter to his knees every day because otherwise, his skin got dry and flaky, and that I really preferred if he got thirty-five grams of protein a day and at least two hours of sun.

But, of course, I didn’t want him running around too much in the sun either, because what if he tripped and I wasn’t here, so I specified that as well. Along with the fact that I really preferred he wore his velcro shoes, though he’d probably insist on wearing the ones with shoelaces.

Anyway, it really wasn’t all that much information, so I’m not sure why Delia kept repeating, “Oh, for the love of God!”

Honestly, I felt good about myself for not going through theadditionaltwenty-item checklist I’d recently made that was still sitting on my work desk.

See?Progress.

After taking a shower and putting last-minute toiletries inside my suitcase, I get into bed. I look up at the exposed rafters, thinking about the cathartic conversation I had with my best friends.

They’d been keeping their feelings about Ajay behind a barricade for so long–out of respect for him being my husband at the time–that once the floodgates opened, it was like everything came spilling out. Even Dylan, the most laid back ofus all, got a little worked up talking about how she didn’t like the way he treated me at times.

I don’t think anyone would call Ajay a bad guy, because he wasn’t. He was loving and charming in his own way. But, like everyone else, he was flawed. He had some good qualities, but he had ones he needed to work on, if life had given him a chance. Except, the ones he still had to work on ended up affecting me the most. And for that, I’m disappointed in myself for not speaking up sooner.

Because for a woman who doesn’t shy away from speaking her mind, I sure didn’t do right by myself when I was with him. I allowed him to put me in second place, and that was just as much on me as it was on him.

But I’m slowly finding myself again.

I’m slowly realizing that I want more.

And with the vow I made to myself tonight to forgive myself–and my late husband–for the hurt I’ve kept pent-up inside, the hurt that has manifested in strange ways in my life, I decide to let my past life go and live in the present.

I know that all of it–from the hurt I’ve carried for years, to the grief of watching my husband lose a horrendous battle–contributed to my need for control. It contributed to my obsession with food, my debilitating fears, and my random intrusive thoughts.

But it needs to end now!

---