Page 88 of Offside and Off-Limits
I get the feeling he’s managing that quite well on his own.
“My friend, Doreen, lives in Portland and she heard from her sister, Carlene—isn’t that funny the way their names almost rhyme? What were their parents thinking?” She glances at the kids, who are too preoccupied with taking in the packed arena and munching on their hotdogs to pay her any attention.
“Anyway, Carlene lives in the same building as your ex and Izzy Barlowe, that despicable former friend of yours who ran off with your husband,” she clarifies, as though I might not remember who Izzy Barlowe is. “She told Doreen that Izzy found out about him trying to woo some woman online, and do you know what she did?” she asks, but she doesn’t wait for my response, the question clearly rhetorical, the gossip too juicy not to spill. “She threw him out! Right onto the street! Carlene said she put all his things in trash bags, too. You know the sort, those big ones you can fit a lot into? She threw them out, too, right from their third-floor condo.” She pauses long enough to take a breath, her features alight with glee. “One of the bags split open on impact, sending his shoes and other items of clothing flying.”
“She threw him out?” I ask, aghast. Aghast and a touch elated, if I’m honest.
Okay,a lotelated.
Dwayne had gotten away with not only treating me and the kids horribly, but Izzy, too, thanks to his little dalliance with me as ChronicWarrior88. If what Mrs. McCluskey is saying is true, he’s finally getting a little dose of what he deserves.
Mrs. McCluskey nods, her lips terse. “Dreadful man! You’rewell rid of him, Clara. Well rid! And you know what? Poor Carlene found a pair of your ex’s boxer shorts on her windshield the very next day, can you believe? Poor woman thought she had some kind of sick stalker who liked to leave his personal clothing for women to find before she worked out they were Dwayne’s.”
“Wow.”
Mrs. McCluskey may be the town gossip, but she’s nearly always correct in her knowledge, even if sometimes details are, shall we say, “expanded” for dramatic means. She’s a fully paid subscriber of the “don’t ever let the truth get in the way of a good story” club, that’s for sure.
“So, Clara, what do you think of that?” She leans back on her feet, a satisfied look on her face.
I shake my head, the story soaking in. “I don’t know quite what to think, Mrs. McCluskey.” A thought occurs to me. “Is Dwayne okay?”
She throws her hands on her hips. “Clara Johnson. I tell you a story that should have you feeling avenged in at least a small way, and all you ask is whether that rat of an ex of yours is okay?”
I flick my gaze to Benny and Hannah, who still seem totally oblivious of our conversation, still enjoying their hotdogs and watching the crowd. “I’m only asking for the kids’ sake.”
She smiles, her features softening. “Of course you are. And the answer to your question is I don’t know, and nor do I think you should care.”
“That’s quite a story.”
Her eyes light up. “Isn’t it? I do love it when a bad guy gets his comeuppance. Enjoy the game, watching your new beau.”
“I will.” She takes her seat once more and I sit back in mine. I’m fairly sure I’m the woman Izzy caught Dwayne chatting with online, but it could have been someone else. He could have been trying to seduce a whole raft of women, for all I know.
What I do know is I no longer care. Dwayne will always bethe kids’ dad, and so he’ll be in my life in some form or another for many years to come.
But I’m not the person I once was when I fell in love with him.
I’m not the person I was when he left me.
I’m strong. I’m confident. I’m capable of so much.
And I’ve got a man who cherishes and supports every aspect of me: the good, the bad, and the chronically fatigued.
“What did Mrs. McCluskey have to say?” Keira asks, and I tell her the story of Dwayne and his belongings being summarily dumped by Izzy.
“It couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy,” she says with a satisfied grin.
“These guys are making history tonight,” Dan says, his eyes shining.
“They sure are, honey, just like you did when you captained the charity team,” Keira says.
An announcer calls over the loudspeaker, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the inaugural home game of your NHL Maple Falls Ice Breakers!”
The stadium roars, people rising totheir feet,waving the merchandise and stompingtheir feet, really getting into the excitement of the event. The kids and I stand, along with Dan and Keira, every local grinning from ear to ear, proud that Maple Falls has its own NHL team, even if the future of the town is still hanging in the balance.
But all of that feels like a problem for another day as the town comes together to support our team, a town brought together by adversity, hoping for a victory on the ice tonight.
The announcer introduces the Great Lakes Vikings, and as the team members slide onto the ice one by one, most people applaud, their supporters showing their love for the team, but some people boo and call out, as well.
