Page 28 of A World Without You
Bennett sets down the half-eaten pies. “I could see if they need any temps at the office if you want. It’d be more clerical stuff, but might beat trying to sell perfume to Clark Griswold.”
Snorting out a laugh, I place the platter in the sink and begin washing. “I’m pretty sure he was shopping for lingerie.”
Bennett shrugs with a half-smirk as he places foil over the pie dishes. “You get what I mean. It’d be a lot of filing, answering phones, and inputting data. Is that something you’d be comfortable with? I mean, I know you worked at a lodge or something but...”
I laugh lightly. “I worked at a lodge in a small town, not the eighteenth century.”
He lets out a long laugh. “You mean they have computers in Roslyn?” He pretends to be shocked.
“Yes, and this magical thing called the internet!”
“Wild,” he says and I smile.
“Thank you,” I add, meeting his eyes. “I know my résumé sucks these days, but I’m very capable and smart.”
You know, except when it comes to decisions about my love life.
“I know you are.” His voice is low and soft, like honey on a scratchy throat. He stands at the ready with a tea towel covered in holly. “Divorce sucks, but you’ll be okay.”
“I know,” I say, rinsing the suds off the platter and handing it to him to dry. “But climbing back on my feet feels like it might kill me, you know?”
“Oh, yeah. When you’re with someone for years and then all of a sudden you’re not, it’s like learning to walk all over again. Sometimes it feels like learning to breathe, too.” He opens the cupboard behind him to put the platter away. It’s strange how he only comes to my parents’ house every other year for the holidays and yet, he knows where everything goes, and which drawer holds the towels for drying dishes, and that my mom has special towels simply for decoration.
“Can you be my therapist?” I ask, leaning against the counter.
“No, but you can join my divorcee support group.”
I raise my eyebrows.
“I’m joking. I don’t have one of those.”
I flick the water still beading off my fingers at him, and he scrunches his nose. “Well, now that I’m back in town, maybe we should start one. Our parents would be so proud.” I make rainbow hands in the air. “Divorced. Lonely. And learning to breathe again.”
“I always wanted my name in lights.” He smiles and turns to his daughter, who just skipped into the kitchen, wearing snowflake footie pajamas. “Daddy, can we watchElf?”
Bennett smiles at me. “That’sherfavorite.”
I nod with a smile, and we hold our stare for a moment. “Excellent choice.”
“Want to watch it with us?” she asks.
I throw the dish towel I was using to dry my hands on the counter. “I was hoping you’d ask.”
Josie clasps her small hand in mine and I’m a bit surprised by the gesture, but it’s oddly comforting. It’s as if everything will be okay because of these people here tonight who showed up for me despite my transgressions and mistakes. People who will laugh with me and not judge me for any of the choices I’ve made. Going home after a divorce is the worst and best feeling I’ve ever known.
As the thought settles in my gut, the quiet, gentle chatter of the holiday season settles in the air, and the distinctbum-bum, bum-bum-bummusic of the movie starts to play.
By the time Buddy the Elf makes it to New York City, Josie is fast asleep on Bennett’s lap, her long brown curls cascading over his leg as he gently rubs her forehead. There’s a slight smile on her face even as she sleeps. I think of all the magic there is when you’re five years old. The world is peaceful. Santa Claus is real. And miracles happen if only you believe.
Adulting will forever be overrated.
“She’s beautiful, Bennett,” I say, smiling down at her.
“Thank you. She’s the best,” he replies proudly, his brow in its natural furrow and his lips almost smiling. “I can’t imagine life without her.”
I remember something. “Hey, remember how you thought she was going to be a boy?”
Bennett smiles and quirks his head. “She was almost Josiah.”
