Page 59 of The Space He Left
"I'm still married, Lisa."
"Legally separated,” she reminded me. “You're a single mother who happens to share a child with a man you communicate with through an app." Lisa paused, studying my face. "Have you even thought about divorce? Really thought about it?"
The question hit me unexpectedly. "I... no, not really. I mean, we're separated, but divorce feels so... final."
"What's stopping you?"
I considered the question. "I want Emma and me to have the same last name. I know, I know, I could still do that if we divorced, but it's more than that. I want us to be a family unit, even if it's just the two of us. And I guess... I guess I'm not ready to close that door completely."
"Then maybe dating will help you figure out what you really want. Whether you want to talk to Jack and see if you can get past this, or whether you're ready to move on for good." Lisa adjusted Emma in her arms. "Look, I'm not saying you should run off and elope with someone. But maybe it's time to see what else is out there. To remind yourself that you're more than just Emma's mom."
The conversation stayed with me for the rest of the week. I loved being Emma's mother – it was the most important and fulfilling role I'd ever had. But Lisa was right that I'd lost sight of other parts of myself. The woman who'd had ambitions and interests that didn't revolve around diapers and feeding schedules.
When Rowena called the following week with an invitation to a dinner party at her house, I almost said no automatically.
"It's just a few couples and some singles," she said. "Good food, good wine, good conversation. You need to get out of that house."
"I can't. Emma—"
"Your mom is visiting this weekend, right? She'd babysit Emma for a few hours."
I found myself saying yes before I could talk myself out of it. Mom was indeed visiting, and she'd been making pointed comments about how I needed to take better care of myself, how Emma needed to see her mother as a whole person, not just a caregiver.
Saturday evening found me standing in front of my closet, trying to remember how to dress for a social event that didn't involve baby spit-up or playground equipment. I settled on a blue dress I'd worn to events before Emma, paired with heels I hadn't touched in months.
"You look beautiful, sweetheart," Mom said when I came downstairs. She was holding Emma, who had just been fed and was now drowsy. "Have fun tonight. Don't worry about us."
"I won't be late—"
"Harper." Mom's voice was firm. "Go. Enjoy yourself. Remember who you are when you're not being a mother."
Rowena's dinner party was lovely – exactly the kind of sophisticated adult gathering I'd forgotten existed. Good food, interesting conversation, people who asked about my work and my thoughts on things that had nothing to do with child-rearing.
"Harper, I'd like you to meet Doug," Rowena said, approaching with a tall man who had kind eyes and an easy smile. "Doug, this is Harper – the designer I was telling you about."
Doug was a teacher at the high school and had recently moved to Willowbrook. He was intelligent, funny, and showed genuine interest in my design work. We talked about books, about his transition from urban to small-town life, about the challenges of starting over in a new place.
"I have to ask," he said as the evening was winding down, "would you like to have dinner sometime? Just the two of us?"
The question shouldn't have been shocking. I was an adult, I was attractive, I was legally separated. But it felt surreal, as if he were asking someone else entirely.
"I... that's very kind of you, but my situation is complicated."
"Complicated is my middle name," he said with an easy smile. He lowered his voice slightly. "The small-town grapevine is pretty efficient. I know you're separated."
I appreciated his directness. "Legally, yes," I clarified. "But emotionally... I'm not sure I'm done with my marriage yet. I don't know what the future looks like, and I wouldn't want to mislead you."
Doug nodded, his expression thoughtful and serious. "Thank you for being honest. That's a rare quality." He considered for a moment. "Okay, new deal. I'm not asking you to start a new life with me." He leaned in a little, his tone conspiratorial and kind. "How about one night of good conversation over dinner? I'm new in town and could seriously use a friend who can recommend something on a menu besides the daily special. You look like you could use a night out where you don't have to cut anyone's food into tiny pieces."
His easy humor made me smile.
"Here's the plan," he continued. "One dinner, as friends. If there's a spark, we're mature enough to acknowledge it and talk about what, if anything, we want to do next, respecting your situation completely. If there's no spark, then congratulations, we both just made a new friend in Willowbrook. No pressure, no expectations. Just good company."
"When you put it like that," I said, a genuine smile touching my lips for the first time all evening, "it's hard to say no."
"Then I'll take that as a maybe," he said, his own smile warm and genuine. "Think about it, and let me know."
On the drive home, I found myself considering Doug's offer, not just his invitation. What would it feel like to have dinner witha man who understood the complexity of my situation? To be seen as Harper the person - conflicted, uncertain, but interesting - and not just Harper the betrayed wife or Harper the single mother?
