Page 4 of An Ex Affair

“Yeah, I heard you, honey. It sounds like that’s not what you wanted.”

I gaped, staring out my windshield at the tree outside the parking garage. A homeless man was using the branches to hang dry his underwear. “No, it’s not what I wanted! That’smyshow! My idea. My baby!”

Mama was silent again and I was starting to think calling her was a mistake. She didn’t understand. Never had understood my desire to have one of the top-rated home improvement shows on network television. She had no idea the work and drive and fortitude required to survive in Hollywood as a woman. A nobody. No family connections. No backroom deals. Just actual talent and the stubborn willingness to see it through.

A faint laugh escaped as I realized I actually hadn’t made it in Hollywood. I thought I had. I thought fifteen years would grant me some elevated status that couldn’t be taken away in the blink of an eye. Oh, how naïve I still was.

“Honey,” Mama sighed. “Maybe you should come home for a bit. Regroup. Take a vacation for once. You’ll see things clearer with some fresh air, I promise.”

I shook my head without even giving her suggestion real thought. “I have so much to do here. I’ve got another call coming in, Mama. I’ll call you back soon, okay?”

There was no phone call coming in. Nor did I call her back. Nor was there anything to do once I got home to my small little bungalow in the Hills. Not one “friend” or former coworker contacted me in the days that followed my firing. Even Joselyn couldn’t find the time to properly call me. She shot me a few hurried texts that said to keep my head up.

I did not, in fact, keep my head up. I buried it in my pillows and cried my eyes out as the days went on and reality set in. I was done in Hollywood. Ousted from my own brain child idea that had grown into a profitable show. On the fifth day, when Joselyn texted me a video, I had to ice my swollen eyes for ten minutes before I could even see it.

I hit play, watching in horror as the twatapotomus stood in front of the home I’d picked out for renovation in Hermosa Beach, dressed in a plaid Britney Spears look-a-like skirt that would show her vagina if the slightest breeze came through, which it most certainly would one block from the ocean. She also wore a tool belt with a pink set of tools. The end of the hammer swung and whacked her in the thigh when she walked toward the front door. I gasped as she almost went down. The show blurred her ass cheeks as they flashed below the unprofessional skirt but didn’t edit out the mistake.

“What the fuck?” I asked out loud. My bungalow didn’t answer.

Me: This is absolute trash.

Joselyn: Trash sells, baby.

And that right there was the moment I washed my hands of Hollywood. I’d convinced myself that home improvement shows were outside the philosophy ofsex sells. But the twatapotomus had proven me wrong. Hell, it wasn’t even her fault. She had the body, but the executives made the decisions. The untouchable elite struck again.

A week later, I didn’t look in my rearview mirror as I drove away from my house with the new for sale sign in the yard. I didn’t let myself glance at the coffee shop I visited every morning on the weekends or the bookstore I frequented whenever I needed a pick-me-up. The headlines about my firing on obscure Hollywood gossip pages no longer dinged on my phone since I removed the app that searched for my name. My life in the land of angels was over, burned to the ground in spectacular fashion.

Sure, I could have tried to get on another home improvement show. Use my B-list credentials to host a gameshow or makecameos on other daytime shows. All of it was possible. None of it was what I wanted.

I’d come to Hollywood looking to make a name for myself. To prove that I could make it somewhere when the odds were stacked against me. I had certain ideas about home interior design that weren’t mainstream at that time. And I’d done it. High-end homes all across the nation were installing live greenery into their walls to bring the outside in. Board and batten in the fleur-de-lis pattern was now carried in the home improvement stores. My ideas were widely accepted and scores of people knew my name.

And I was on my way home to Blueball for the first time since I left at twenty-three, my tail between my legs.

The town looked nothing like I remembered, but it didn’t matter. Just the sight of the pine trees and the contrast of the red dirt had my heart pounding in my chest. Uneasiness swept through me long before I saw the first shop on Main Street. This town had been my whole world for the first half of my life.

“Colson,” I whispered as I crept down the street, head swiveling from side to side. I hadn’t said his name in years though his face flashed in my memories all the time. The familiar ache in my chest accompanied every thought about that man. I rubbed the spot, coming to a stop at the red light that had been a four-way stop when I left town.

I saw him everywhere I looked. The general store we hit late one night when I had a craving for freshly baked cookies that couldn’t be ignored. The park where we kissed for the first time. The football field where I cheered on the sidelines and he asked me to homecoming in front of everyone.

Hell, even the drug store brought up a memory I’d prefer to forget. I’d bought a pregnancy test there right before I blew up our marriage. It came back negative, but the scare had made me realize I didn’t want the same things Colson did. He wouldhave loved nothing more than to see me barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen of the little house we rented while he went out and worked. It wasn’t a bad dream to have, it just wasn’t the same dream I had in my heart. I wanted to be somebody before I became someone’s mom. I wanted to make my mark, earn my keep, and let the world dazzle me for a bit before I lost myself to a small-town life.

I didn’t want to end up like my mother.

A car honked at me, two quick taps and a friendly wave. The light had turned green. I took off, heading straight through town to turn off on the street that led to my parents’ place. A few more turns and I saw the edge of the land. The fences were dilapidated like everyone else’s fences around here. Not even calling them shabby chic made them appear nicer. The driveway gravel was worn into two grooves just like it was when I drove out of here for the last time nineteen years ago.

The house, with its shiplapped exterior, looked old but well maintained. The L-shaped house was a simple one-story, the roof a muted gray and the siding a blinding white. The trees extended higher in the bright blue sky than I remembered from my youth, but the rope swing in the side yard remained. The garage door was open, showing the back end of the same faded blue SUV Mama drove when I lived here. I couldn’t believe the damn thing still ran. I pulled in carefully next to her car and got out, glancing around at all the tools still perched on the walls of the garage. Dad had been gone for decades, but his tools still looked like they got used yesterday.

The scent of pine trees and the type of air that hasn’t blended with the exhaust from millions of cars filled my nose. I inhaled deep and held it, letting the memories of this place lash at me. Somehow, in all the running away and blazing a new trail a few hundred miles away, I had missed Blueball.

The front door creaked open and my head shot in that direction. Mama stood there, her beautiful face creased into a smile even though I hadn’t bothered to tell her I was coming. Her hair was still cut in that chin-length bob I talked her into last time I flew her out to Los Angeles to visit me, but the floral housedress was definitely not one I would condone.

“Hey!” I called out with a lame wave.

Mama just grinned harder, her eyes almost disappearing behind her round cheeks. “Get your behind in here and hug your mama.”

My feet carried me over the ten feet and nineteen years separating us. When we pulled each other into a long hug, everything felt a million degrees better. This woman wouldn’t fire me for someone prettier and younger. Mama had always shown me unconditional love, but I hadn’t realized until this exact moment how much I appreciated it.

She patted my back and smoothed her hands down my straightened hair. “You staying for a few days?”

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