“Shh,” Mom hushes me.
“Fifteen thousand for the canceled honeymoon. Six thousand for canceled travel and lodging for members of his family. And another five thousand for my wedding ring.” Each statement was louder than the last. I shook my head and lowered my voice. “Don’t worry about this, Mom. I’ll tell him to take this and stick it up his ass.” Okay, I tone it down for my mother. “...where the sun doesn’t shine. And he has the damn rings. I gave him back the engagement ring and he never gave me the wedding ring.” I shrug. “The jewelry store had a great return policy on the ring I bought him.”
Mom takes a breath and picks up her fork before stabbing a piece of her salad. “You did the right thing, Sami.”
“I did the right thing too late.”
“No, divorcing that man and possibly fighting over parental rights would have been too late. You made the right decision just in time.” She takes a bite of her salad.
My appetite is gone as I look again at the invoice, the one that is typed on letterhead from Jack’s law firm. I look back up with new resolve. “He’s not getting away with this. You aren’t paying him a dime.”
“I thought about calling him myself, but he’s a lawyer and I already know he doesn’t think very highly of me or your father.”
Hearing her say that hurts more than if she were saying Jackson hated me.
Mom went on, “I guess I’m afraid he’ll talk circles around me and somehow make me feel responsible.”
“Mom, I’m so sorry. Don’t worry about what Jack thinks. He isn’t worth you fretting. And I’m serious about the dress. I saw the price tag and I know the cost of alteration. I’ll transfer that amount into your and Dad’s account this afternoon.” I lean back and stare some more at the invoice. My mind wrestles with my emotions.
I am pissed.
No, I was pissed when I found Jack in our bed with Ellen.
Now, I’m full-out furious.
“What does he think he can do, take you to court?”
“I would assume he thinks we’ll pay to keep him quiet.”
“What the hell” —I lean forward and lower my voice— “is there for him to say?”
“I don’t want to worry your dad, but the only way we could pay what he’s asking is to cash out some of our retirement.”
“You’re not doing that. I’ll talk to him.”
I look at my phone. After the incident in my condo when he gave me back his key, I blocked his number. I have no idea where he’s living. He’d sold his place when he moved in with me. He didn’t have a best friend with a place to sleep over unless he was staying with Ellen.
I start to nod.
“What are you thinking?” Mom asks.
“I’m thinking that I blocked Jack’s number. I have no idea where he’s staying” —a smile came to my lips— “but I know where he works. I know the senior partner and I know...” I wasn’t going to go to the subject of Ellen.
Mom wipes her lips with the napkin. “Millie mentioned another woman.” She looks at me through her lashes. “Don’t be mad at your sister. She thought I knew.”
The air leaves my lungs. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“You were protecting him?”
“No, I was protecting me.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “If Millie told you, then you know I walked in on him and that woman. Doing. It. At. My. Condo.”
Mom nods.
“Does Dad know?”
“No. Your father is the gentlest of men except when it comes to—”
“Zombies,” I offer.
Mom grins. “His children.”
I sit taller.
“I just want to know, Sami, did you call off the wedding because of what he did or because of what you and Marshal did?”
I press my lips together. “I canceled the wedding because when Jack did what he did, it was a slap in the face, a wake-up call. I called Marshal because I needed my friend. As I drove to Marshal’s place, I saw my future all play out, Mom. I saw me in a big house, in the right neighborhood, with three kids, and Jack off screwing a secretary, neighbor, housekeeper, or maybe the nanny.”
It’s cleansing and cathartic to be this open and honest with Mom and with myself.
“I didn’t see my forever or my always. I knew that night that Jackson would never be either of those people for me and going through with the wedding would have not given me what I’ve always wanted.” I swallow again, tasting the salty emotions. “He lied about France. I opened an email and saw our honeymoon reservations. They were for New York. We had reservations at a swanky hotel and tickets to shows. I’m sure it would have been great, but it wasn’t France.
“He’s a liar. That’s who he is and who he will always be. I saw the future. I imagined that each time he would cheat that he’d bring me a piece of jewelry or take me somewhere expensive.” My head shakes. “That’s not how I want to spend my always.”
Mom reaches across the table and covers my hand. “Sami, you made the right choice. May I ask...what’s happening with Marshal?”
The sadness and frustration disappear at the mention of his name. “He’s my always, just maybe not like I dreamed. Marshal is...” —I inhale as I look through the windows to the sidewalk— “like Mrs. Jefferson’s dog.”
“LS?” Mom asks quizzically.
“He’s cute and dependable, but I know him and eventually, he’ll shit on the kitchen floor.”
Mom’s eyebrows knit together. “Remember that book I read you when you were little. You and your sisters and brother used to giggle the whole time.” She doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Everyone Poops.”
I chuckle. “I remember that.”
“What are you afraid of?”
I give her question some thought. There are too many answers. I could say spiders or mice. I could say having someone cheat on me again. But my greatest fear surpasses all of those things. “Losing my best friend.”
Mom smiles. “Are the two of you honest with one another?”
“Always.”
“Don’t let that end because you’ve added...benefits.”
“Mom.” My eyes widen.
“Oh, Sami, I’m old, but I’m not that old. I suspected when you came to the house—after he kissed you. Honey, that was the kind of kiss that melts a girl’s panties. It definitely wasn’t a friendly peck on the cheek.”
Warmth creeps up my neck to my cheeks as I recall the kiss.
“But at that moment, I also wondered if what I was seeing was an act for Jackson’s benefit.” I start to tell her it wasn’t, but she goes on, “And then you returned from your walk.” She shakes her head as her smile grows. “The two of you looked at Dad and me like you did after I caught you smoking in the old boathouse.”
I clear my throat.
“Oh, funny story.”
“Tell me,” I say, happy for the change of subject.
“Well, it’s more like strange.” She grins. “That very same night the two of you went for a walk, on the Neighborhood App, someone reported hearing strange noises coming from the boathouse. They called the police, but by the time the police arrived” —she shrugs— “the boathouse was empty.”