Silence follows. I warn myself not to overreact. But I’m not remotely prepared for what comes next.
“Oh, no,” Ansley cries. “You can’t do that!”
“Why would you even want to?” Ethan asks. “Dad loved our house. He always said he’d never move, that he’d have to be carried out . . . feetfirst.” His voice falters as he realizes what he’s just said.
I blink back tears as I remember the EMTs pulling the sheet up over Nate’s face. I steady my voice, determined to sound stronger than I feel.
“As horrible as it was to lose him, your father’s gone. But I’m . . . I’m here in this huge house all alone, and it’s . . . I just don’t want to do this anymore.”
“But giving up the house would be like losing him all over again,” Ansley declares. “It would be the end of . . . us.”
“Why are you in such a hurry?” Ethan demands.
“How can you be so selfish?” Ansley adds.
Am I being selfish? Was I wrong to think they’d understand?
Silent tears stream down my face as they berate me. My heart aches in my chest. Their anger is hot and scathing, but it’s their anguish that pierces me to the core. I have loved my children beyond measure since the moment of their birth. I’ve spent my entire adult life cherishing and protecting them. I have always put them and their well-being first. How can I possibly do something that will inflict more pain?
“I’ve got to go.” I can barely get the words past the ball of hurt and disappointment that clogs my throat. “We’ll . . . we’ll talk about this later.”
I hang up quickly, then sit and stare through the scrim of tears. I’ve spent these months living with Nate’s absence, but Ansley and Ethan haven’t processed their loss. Will time help? Do I owe it to them to give them that time? I don’t know how much longer I can stay in this house and on this same path without losing my mind. But if I do move forward, will they forgive me?
My sobs are the only sound that breaks the silence that surrounds me. When the tears finally subside, I call Meena in desperate need of one of her pithy pep talks or at least some sympathy.
“Aww, Jude. I’m really sorry to hear that. Your kids are only thinking of themselves at the moment, and that’s so unfair to you. Life can be so . . . unpredictable.” It’s only when she pauses and takes a shuddering breath that I realize she’s crying, too. “Just when you think you have it figured out . . . things just . . . fall apart.”
“What’s wrong, Meena?” I ask, my own voice faltering. I’ve heard Meena cry maybe two or three times in all the years I’ve known her. “Did something happen to the kids? Or to Stan?”
“No.” She sniffs. “I’m so embarrassed to be crying over something so silly, especially given what you’re dealing with.”
“What is it? Can you tell me on the phone? Or do you want me to come over?” Meena has always been there for me. I don’t know how I would have survived any of what’s happened without her.
“It’s Frank.”
“Oh my God! Was he in an accident? What happened?”
“I don’t know. Everything was so great. We had that wonderful vacation, and he’s been so sweet. I even told him that I was willing to be exclusive. You know, to see how it went.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“I really don’t know. But when I told him I didn’t want to live together, he just . . . ghosted me.”
“He what?”
“He disappeared. He doesn’t answer my emails or respond to my texts. I tried reaching out through his profile on Match, but it’s gone. He’s taken it down.”
Her drama somehow helps distract me from my own, at least for the moment.
“Can’t you go by his house and try to talk to him?”
There’s a silence. “I don’t know where he lives. I’ve never been there.”
“What?” Now I wonder if Frank is married. If Frank is even his real name. He could be anybody.
“He told me he lives in Alpharetta. But like I told you, he has an office here in Buckhead, so we just always made plans around my place. Because there’s so much more to do here in town.”
There’s more sniffling.
“I’m on my way, Meen. I’m coming over and we can talk about it. Make some kind of plan for both of us. And cry on each other’s shoulders.”
“But promise you won’t tell anyone about the Frank thing, okay? Not yet anyway. God, I feel like an imbecile. After raving about online dating and talking everybody into trying it, I feel completely ridiculous.”
Thirty-Two
Jazmine
“You ready, Andretti?”
Rich Hanson has been referring to me as Mario or Andretti ever since I borrowed his car to pick up Maya from tennis. There was a time when this would have irritated the crap out of me, but he says it with such relish that it somehow comes out feeling like a compliment.
He is without a doubt one of the most maddening people I’ve ever known, and given the egos I deal with on a daily basis, and even some of my family members, that’s saying a lot. But it’s hard to be angry with someone who argues with such good humor and remains respectful even in disagreement.
We have argued over virtually every detail involved in purchasing, converting, and staffing the tennis center, as well as its role in the ultimate creation of the StarSports Academy, including the things we agree on. He believes we have to “go big” in terms of facility and amenities, much bigger than I think advisable. And when it comes to identifying and attracting talent in both students and instructors, he’s far more inclined to go after top names than identify lesser-known but equally talented choices.
“You can’t be the best if you don’t have the best,” Rich insists.
“Yes, but I’d rather identify potential and build on it than try to steal existing talent from others.”
“That’s nothing but semantics,” he says with a laugh. “Is it really stealing if someone else’s boyfriend thinks you’re smarter, funnier, and more attractive than the woman he’s with? Should you be judged poorly for being born with more beauty or brains or a better sense of humor and then not hiding those things?”
His eyes twinkle as he looks into mine. The hazel turns a deeper amber, and the green is reduced to flecks, but I’m not sure if this conversation is as personal as it feels.
“I’ve been accused of stealing since I first became an agent, but in a lot of cases I just made myself more attractive than the competition.”