Chapter 4 - The Woman He Said I Used to Be
My former manager called the next morning.
Her name was Elena Ruiz, and she had always spoken as though there was enough time to finish a thought.
“First,” she said, “how are you?”
The question caught me off guard.
I gave her the polite version.
Then I gave her the true one.
She listened to both.
“We have a small project coming up,” she said. “A neighborhood café renovation. Some work can be done remotely. We could start with a limited contract if that suits you.”
I looked at the nursery monitor.
“I have twins.”
“I remember. They were in the photographs you sent.”
“I can’t work the way I used to.”
“Neither can I. My father moved in last year. We’ll discuss what the project requires.”
No lecture.
No disappointed sigh.
Just a problem with possible solutions.
I cried after the call, which was becoming inconveniently common.
By the second week of January, Mom and I had a routine. Beth helped me price childcare. I worked during protected blocks of time while somebody else actually watched the babies.
The first afternoon, I checked the monitor every four minutes.
Mom eventually turned it facedown.
“I’m in the next room,” she said. “You’re allowed to finish a drawing.”
Cole disliked the new arrangement.
He had begun sending messages that alternated between apology and irritation.
I miss you.
Your mother is enjoying this.
We can afford counseling.
Lawyers are expensive.
You used to believe in me.
Then he requested a meeting.
Rachel helped arrange it at her office.
Cole arrived carrying white roses.
They were my favorite.
Or they had been, before I learned flowers could function like a receipt for forgiveness.
He set them on the conference table.
“You look better,” he said.
“I’m sleeping more.”
His smile tightened.
We discussed the children first. He wanted to visit at the house. I wanted visits somewhere familiar to the twins, with clear times and someone available while he learned their routines.
He objected to the word learned.
“I’m their father.”
“Yes,” I said. “You are.”
Rachel asked which days he could reliably manage.
Cole looked at me.
“You’re really going to schedule me?”
“The babies already have a schedule.”
He leaned back.
Then he began talking about us.
He had been lonely. Work was stressful. The twins changed everything. Sierra listened without criticizing.
I kept my hands folded beneath the table.
“When did I criticize you?”
“Lauren, come on.”
“Give me an example.”
“You always wanted something.”
I thought of the requests I had made.
Hold Lily while I shower.
Please pick up formula.
Can you take the next feeding?
Will you stay tonight?
Rachel let the silence remain.
Cole broke it.
“I’m not defending what happened. I’m explaining the pressure.”
“You could have told me you were unhappy.”
“I tried.”
“You told me motherhood was my job.”
He looked away.
For the first time, the flowers seemed too bright.
Then he slid a document toward me.
A home-equity loan proposal.
My stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
“A practical solution. We consolidate the debt, stabilize the business, take the pressure off.”
He said it smoothly, as though this were proof he had arrived prepared to save our family.
Rachel reached for the document.
“We’ll review it.”
“It needs to move quickly.”
“Then we need the complete financial picture quickly.”
Cole’s jaw shifted.
I looked at the proposed amount.
One hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
Against the house where our children were supposed to grow up.
“You came here to ask me to borrow money?”
“I came here to fix things.”
“Did Sierra tell you to do this?”
His eyes flashed.
“Don’t drag her into everything.”
There it was.
His protection arrived instantly when she needed it.
Mine required appointments.
I pushed the document back toward Rachel.
“I’m not signing today.”
Cole stood so abruptly the chair rolled backward.
“You’ve changed.”
I thought of the woman awake all night, apologizing for the sound of crying babies.
I thought of the woman drawing café layouts while her mother hummed in the next room.
“Yes,” I said.
He left the flowers behind.
Rachel asked whether I wanted them.
“No.”
May you like
She called the receptionist and asked whether someone downstairs might enjoy them.
I went home and opened my drawings.
