Page 12 of Like Home
I avert my gaze and swear I see him suppress a smile out of the corner of my eye. As casually as I can manage, I say, “Hey, Jared.” I turn to Emma gesturing at the door in front of us, “So, this is your room?”
She gives me an excited nod and pulls me inside. My heart squeezes as I realize her room is the most decorated in the apartment. She has a pink heart-shaped rug in the center, fairy lights strung along the wall behind her bed, and an oak bookshelf and dresser combo that I recognize from Jared’s parents’ house. She proudly points to the purple, tufted bedspread that swallows the twin-sized bed whole, “This is what Daddy and I picked out last week. Isn’t it so pretty, Mommy?” She plops on the bed.
“It sure is, Em. It’s a little big though isn’t it?” The bedspread looks like it’s meant for a queen-sized bed rather than her twin.
“She insisted on this one even though I told her it wouldn’t fit,” Jared laughs as he enters the room behind us.
“Better for forts!” Emma says, a little hand gesturing to the bookcase and bean bag chair where I’m presuming she makes her forts.
“Can’t argue with that,” I say, sitting next to her. “So, where do you want to get dinner? We can go to Jack’s here in town, or we can go get lasagna at Little Ravenna’s. What are you up for?”
“Lasagna! Lasagna! Lasagna!” she chants, standing from the bed to twirl in a circle. I laugh because I had a feeling that would be her choice.
“Okay, Garfield. Let’s get out of here, then. It’s a thirty-minute drive to Ravenna’s and we want to get you home in time for bed.” I stand and touch her shoulder.
“Make sure you grab your raincoat, Emma,” Jared says, moving aside so she can dart past him. He turns his whiskey colored eyes on me. They sweep down my body lazily before he meets my eyes, “See you when you get back.” He produces a keyfrom the pocket of his sweats, “I figured you should have the spare. Feel free to let yourself in.” He hands me the key, his fingers lingering against mine as I grab it. I try to brush aside the implication in his tone.
I slide past him, throwing a, “Thanks,” over my shoulder. I cannot handle flirty Jared right now. I blow out a breath before pasting a smile on my face. “Hey, Em. Ready?”
“Yup,” she pops thepand comes toward me. “Bye, Daddy!” she calls over her shoulder. I lock the door behind us and lead her to the car, both of us hustling to stay as dry as possible.
On the ride back to Jared’s after dinner, Emma and I are singing along to a pop station on the radio when she says, “Mommy?”
I flick my eyes to hers in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, hun?” I turn the music down so I can hear her better. She’s twining her small fingers together and picking at the chipped, sparkly pink polish on them.
“Are you and Daddy ever gonna get back together?”
The question is a gut punch, even though she’s asked it a few times over the last month. It never gets easier. “I don’t think so, Emma,” I say gently.
“Daddy says ‘maybe’ when I ask him,” she states, a hopeful lift entering her voice.
I hold back a sigh of frustration and keep my eyes on the dark, rain-slicked road ahead, “‘I don’t think so’ and ‘maybe’ are kind of the same thing, Em.” My warm and fuzzy feelings over Jared decorating Emma’s room start to evaporate.
“‘Maybe’ sounds better.”
“I know, Em. I’m telling you now, though, that it is very unlikely that your father and I will be back together any time soon.” I hate being the one to disappoint her, but I can’t have her dealing with false hope.
“Why not?” she asks quietly.
“No one knows for sure what the future holds. But right now, at this moment, I don’t think we’ll ever be back together.”
“So, maybe?” she asks, hopefully. I laugh rather than answering her, because if I open my mouth I’ll say something hurtful about her dad and she doesn’t need to hear that.
When we get to Jared’s apartment, I help Emma out of her booster seat and we plod through the wet grass to the front door, the cold rain doing nothing to diffuse my fury. We swore we would do our best to be on the same page and not confuse her or give her false hope. I get the door open and usher Emma inside.
Jared is, predictably, playing a game on his computer. He’s wearing his gaming headset, so he doesn’t hear us. “Go ahead and start getting ready for bed, Emma. Brush and floss.” I nudge her towards the bathroom.
“Can you both tuck me in like we used to?”
“Sure, sweetie. Give us ten minutes.” Because his desk is facing the wall, Jared doesn’t even see Emma go past him. I roll my eyes and approach him, pulling down his headset when I get to him.
“Ah! What the hell?” He swivels around, panic widening his eyes, “Jesus, Summer. You scared the hell out of me,” he mutters, turning around again, and getting straight back into the game, fingers flying over the keys.
I rein in my annoyance, taking a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth. I want a civil conversation, and that won’t happen if I don’t check my anger. This is just too reminiscent of the last seven years. It was always me wanting to have a conversation or spend time together, and then him deciding that he’d rather do anything else (but would mostly rather play video games).
“Jared.”
“Give me a second, okay? I can’t pause it. You know this. We’ve been over it a thousand times.” Rapid fireclicking ensues while I contemplate pulling the plug on the whole system. I feel my anger rising like a swift tide and work to keep it toned down.
