Page 30 of The Writer

“What is it?” April has both her hands on the table, staring at me quizzically. I never have had a good poker face.

“Nothing,” I say. “Just admiring the place. You have a beautiful home.”

“Thanks.” She picks up the spoon again, the clinking of the utensil against the bowl filling the silence.

“The kids must really be sick,” I say. “I’ve not heard a sound the whole time I’ve been here.”

“The kids…” Her voice trails off, her gaze fixated on something in the other room. I look behind me and see she’s staring at one of the family portraits on the far wall. Her eyes are glossy with tears.

“April,” I say. “Is everything okay?”

She clears her throat again and stares into her lap. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“It seems like something is bothering you.”

As the statement leaves my lips, I realize I’m not asking as an amateur detective, but as a friend. There’s something off withApril’s behavior, but she’s not acting like someone who has been targeting me. Her pain seems more personal.

“The kids aren’t here,” she says, her voice flat. “They’re staying at their father’s tonight.”

“Their father’s?”

“Chase and I are getting a divorce.” She exhales, as though she physically couldn’t contain the statement inside a second longer. When she looks at me, the tears start trailing down her cheeks. “We’ve been separated for a few months.”

“April,” I say. “I had no idea.”

“No one does. I mean, besides our immediate family. It’s not something I’m ready to share with the world.”

“I’m sorry I came by,” I say, hot anxiety climbing the back of my neck. This conversation feels too personal, too intimate. I’d come here for answers, but this isn’t the mystery I was trying to solve.

“No, you were just being nice. Besides, I need to come to terms with what’s happening. It’s just hard.”

That explains why half their belongings have disappeared. They’re in the process of sorting assets, and clearly the kids are living somewhere else half the time. If I hadn’t seen the place with my own eyes, I never would have believed it. April is constantly sharing stories about the kids and Chase. I’m certain she’s posted photos online, masquerading as though everything is just fine. She even said Chase sent her flowers to celebrate her writing news, that they were supposed to go out at the weekend.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s all too cliché, really. Chase is leaving me for another woman.” She looks at me again, the hurt in her eyes replaced with a flash of anger. “Right now, I’m just grieving the loss of what we had. Every day I wake up, and I can’t believe this is my life. We’re talking about selling the house. Chase has his own apartment. I’m having to split time with the kids.” Herwords come out so quickly then run into one another, and she has to take a deep breath to pause herself. “All this change is overwhelming.”

“I can’t even imagine.” I chuckle, leaning on humor to lessen the tension. “Although, this does explain why the husband keeps dying in all your stories.”

Thankfully, she laughs. “I guess what we’re feeling inside bleeds out onto the page, right?” She sighs, staring up at the family portrait again. “Anyway, I was having a pretty low day. As much as I wanted to come to group, I just couldn’t.”

I sit beside her, placing my hands over hers. “You don’t have to explain yourself. It’s good for you to take some time to process.”

“I thought I had a perfect life. We were so happy, until we weren’t, and I’m afraid that what we’re going through now will mess up the kids for the rest of their lives.”

“Lots of families find ways to navigate a divorce. You are a brilliant mother, April,” I say, sincerely. “Whatever you decide to do, I know you’re putting them first.”

“I’m trying,” she says. “It’s just still hard to admit it’s come to this.”

I don’t know what else to say. The only adult relationship I had was with Jasper, and even though he cheated, too, we didn’t have the history April has with Chase. The foundation. It seems blasphemous to offer advice to someone who is going through this heavy a heartache. I settle on, “I’m here if you need me.”

“I appreciate that,” she says, smiling. “I know I can lean on all of you. I just haven’t wanted to admit we’re getting divorced out loud yet because then it becomes real.”

“At least you have the agent news to celebrate,” I say, trying to add some positivity to the conversation.

She smiles genuinely. “I know! I’m still excited about that. I swear, it came at a time when I really needed it. It’s true aboutone door closing, another opening. Maybe my career taking off is what I need to get me out of this funk.”

“It could be,” I say. “You really deserve it.”

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