Page 69 of My Turkish Fling
“He won’t notice until it’s bedtime and he comes to check that I’m not on my screen.” Josh’s resigned voice made me shiver.
“What?”
“Yeah, he’s too busy with work and Kelly and the baby.”
“What about Alex? Does he check on him?”
“No. Alex loves that. They got him a tiny house in the backyard so he can listen to his music as loud as he wants. The neighbors called noise control once.”
Alex was eighteen and enjoying his freedom. But Josh… Josh was my baby, and my heart went out to him. Nearly five years younger, he’d always been the baby. And now, he was having a little sister or brother. I’d barely processed the news of my ex-husband’s new family. I hadn’t even thought about what it meant for my boys. The last time I’d talked to Alex and Josh, both had been playing it cool. But how much could you expect to get out of teenagers via text messaging? If I called, they always sounded distracted, probably playing a game on the laptop as they offered one-word answers to my prying questions.
As I listened to Josh’s words, I felt grateful he could confide in me, yet increasingly upset. I knew Shaun’s shiny new thing syndrome, but I’d never thought it would extend to his children. The whole thing made me sizzle with anger, yet inexplicably sad, like I’d accidentally jumped to the end of a book, skipping something important. My story with Emir was only beginning. And now, reality came crashing down, washing away the dreams, leaving only responsibilities.
“I should call him,” I said, but my fingers made no effort to dial.
I didn’t want to talk to Shaun.
“Where did you leave the note? What if they haven’t found it? They might have already called the police.”
“Well, then the police will come into my bedroom and find the giant piece of paper I left on the bed.”
“But if you didn’t make the bed, it might be obscured by the sheets—”
“Mom! I made the bed. There’s nothing but a giant note on it.”
The phone rang in my hand. Shaun. I took a deep breath. “Hi Shaun.”
“Is he there? Is Josh there?” He sounded out of breath. Irritated.
“Yes.”
“Well, send him back, will you? He’s got school tomorrow.”
“It’s late. Let’s discuss this tomorrow, okay?”
“There’s nothing to discuss. We agreed the boys go to Auckland Grammar.”
“Shaun. He’s here. He was unhappy enough to spend seven hours on a bus. Let’s discuss this tomorrow.”
“What are you trying to pull? You’re not in zone for anything out there! There’s no plan B.”
I felt like protesting, but I knew Shaun didn’t count Napier’s schools as contenders. Not when he had access to the one with the highest grade average, the one that had produced the most All Blacks in the country. Shaun considered his house in the Grammar zone as one of his best assets. Kelly probably agreed and had gotten pregnant just to access that damn school.
“I’m not trying to pull anything. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I ended the call and turned off my phone. There.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” I told Josh.
“Dad will never let me switch schools,” he whined. “But I hate it there. Everyone’s flexing about their iPhones and gaming setups and birthday trips to California.”
“California? Dear Lord.” I shook my head.
I knew the school was elitist, but I’d chosen to focus on the opportunities and resources it offered. When would I learn to look reality in the eye? I was way too old to be this naive. Just like I was far too old to fall for a Turkish man and imagine that things would somehow magically work out.
Josh hung his head. “I can’t ask anyone over to our house because it’s full of baby stuff and dad won’t get me a new computer and we only have Netflix and none of the others like Callum and Logan have. And if I go visit them, they want to come visit and I’ll be so embarrassed. Our house is so small!”
“It’s huge,” I argued. “You have your own room.”
