Page 1 of Moms of Mayhem
1
Nothing triggered me faster than a crowded parking lot in the middle of December. I circled the lot of the ice rink for what must have been the tenth time, my back teeth grinding together and my faith in humanity dwindling by the second.
“Make this next inhale slow and exaggerated,” the guided meditation said through my brother’s fancy SUV speakers. I unclenched my jaw long enough to breathe in through my nose, but the sound was nothing like the calm breath the narrator had. “Exhale through the mouth, letting all of your negative thoughts go with it.”
“I’ve got plenty of those,” I muttered. My hand rested over the horn, ready to unleash at the next idiot who dared cut me off in this endless waiting game. But I did as the narrator said, letting my shoulders sag with each exhale.
“Picture yourself on a beach, gentle waves lapping at the shore. Breathe in and out in time with them.”
Now that one was harder to follow. The beach was a long way from Linwood, Colorado, a tiny mountain town nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains, about two and a half hoursfrom Denver. This was the heart of ski country, but here in Linwood, hockey was our blood.
The steady voice came through the speakers again, “Are you picturing the beach?”
“Nope.” I glanced up at the snow-tipped peaks around me, white flurries just beginning to fall. Pink touched the mountains as the sun set, washing the world with a glowy haze. The snow on the ground outside the parking lot was fresh enough to sparkle, and deep enough to make the parking lot a muddy, slushy pit.
“Good,” the narrator said again. “Now repeat after me. Today is going to be a good day.”
A stuttered “Ha!” ripped out of my throat.
“I am a good person.”
I wiggled my head back and forth, repeating that one.
“I deserve good things.”
My chest tightened, this one harder for me to believe, despite a year’s worth of therapy under my belt. Did Ideservethem? Maybe. But the last 16 years had squashed that expectation, and sometimes it was difficult for me to remember.
A mom walked through the rows of cars toward me, and I sat up straighter. She carried a huge hockey bag over one shoulder and a baby on the other hip. Two more little boys followed her like unruly ducklings, jumping in every puddle they came across. We made eye contact, and she nodded her head toward a minivan a row over. I waved her across, then hurried down the lane to follow her.
I wasn’t sure about the wholedeserving good things, but I definitely deserved a parking spot. It was past time I got inside the rink in time to see Jace play in his first high school hockey game.
“And my happiness is in my contr?—”
A loud ringing cut off the narrator’s voice, and I glanced down at the massive touch screen to see my ex-husband’s name scrolling across. Bile rose in my throat the longer the phone rang, but I couldn’t bring myself to hit that big, taunting green button to accept his call.
Today was going to suck.
I knew it from the moment I woke up.
Six months ago, with my divorce finalized, I’d up and left Connecticut with my son and everything my old Jeep Grand Cherokee could hold. That day in June was a year to the day after finding out my ex-husband had not just been havingmultipleongoing affairs, but one of his mistresses had a baby on the way. With shaking hands, I’d called my brother, who’d hired the best divorce attorney money could pay for, and I changed the locks on the house.
The following year had been terrible for all of us, but finally, the divorce settled, custody was arranged, and I stuck Jace in a car, headed west.
My intention had never been to return to Linwood but home called me. Plus, being near my brother was like having a security blanket, and I needed him, even if I didn’t like admitting that.
“Please tell me you have seats,” I answered, all the calm I might have found in that stupid meditation guide flying out the window at the thought of seeing Ryan for the first time in months. Flipping my blinker on, I waited just to the left of the mom loading her minivan. “I’m in the parking lot, but it’s packed, and I haven’t been able to find a spot.”
“Not even a, Hi, Ryan. How are you, Ryan?” his deep voice rumbled. Even though it wasn’t a video call, I could see the disappointed look on his face, the image painted on theinside of my eyelids from the number of times he’d pointed it my way in our 16 years together. “As cold as ever, I see.”
I inhaled through my nose, puckering my lips to keep the thoughts roiling through my head in my mouth.
“Where are our seats?” I asked, not letting him bait me like he had so many times before.
Minivan mom was struggling to get everyone in the car and looked up at me with a frustrated sigh. I waved, offering her my best smile, even though I was ready to scream. But not at her. Moms in parking lots got every inch of slack I had to give—that shit was hard.
“—your fault you moved across the country and made this so hard on me.”
My brow creased, trying to replay whatever Ryan had said that I must have tuned out. “Wait, you’re here, right?”
