Saturday morning at 7:50 sharp, Garth arrives at my house, his usual ten minutes early. I’m just clearing breakfast away for Max and Zach B. They are bleary-eyed from their sleepover and I predict a car nap in the not too distant future.
“Hey, Garth. Want some coffee for the road?”
“No, thanks. Brought my own.” He holds up a Starbucks cup. I immediately think of Don and laugh to myself.
“What’s your poison?”
“Grande triple-shot latte with extra foam.” He smiles and cheers me.
“Well, that will put some punch in your pumpkin.” I cheers him back with my mug. “We’ll be ready in five.”
I’m halfway up the stairs when I yell over my shoulder.
“Okay, boys, lock and load. Wheels up in five. Bring a couple of pillows. Let’s move it, monkeys!”
I hear Zach B. say, “Your mom talks weird.”
I check my phone and find a text from Don:
Have fun in Wichita.
I smile. This is the weirdest relationship I have ever had. We text all the time and know everything about each other’s lives, but we never meet up for that much-talked-about coffee.
We decide to take my bitchin’ minivan so we have room to stretch out and the boys can watch a movie. Don’t judge me. I wish I were the type of mom who has endless ideas for car games and the energy to play them, but I am not. What I do have is an endless supply of DVDs that I pull out for any car ride longer than forty-five minutes, because that is Max’s breaking point.
The boys snuggle up to their pillows in their car seats as we take off and about ten minutes into The Lego Movie, they are passed out.
“So what is the charity you work with?” I ask Garth as I steer the van onto I-35 South. The weekend morning traffic is light.
“The Wounded Warrior Project.”
“You know, my mom volunteers for them. She hosts a Proud Supporter event every year with her church group.”
“I know. That’s where I met her.” Garth seems to smile at the memory.
“Were you helping out at the pancake breakfast or something?” I sneak a look at him.
“Something like that.”
“Wait, are you a vet?”
He nods. “I did two tours in Afghanistan.”
“When?” I say a little too loudly. Shit! I check the rearview to make sure the boys are still sleeping.
“Oh, 2004 to 2006.”
“Were you in combat?”
“Well, I wasn’t there for the weather.”
“Did you get hurt?”
He shrugs.
“I took some shrapnel in my left side. I got off easy compared to some of my friends.”
“Holy shit! I can’t believe I didn’t know this about you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It never came up.”
We both stare at the windshield, watching miles of highway slip beneath us before I speak again.
“Do you mind talking about it?”
He chuckles.
“No, not at all. What do you want to know?”
I think about that for a minute and self-edit the inappropriate questions that race to the tip of my tongue.
“Um, what do you guys miss most when you were over there?”
“It’s different for everyone,” he muses. “Everyone misses home in one way or another. Could be your family, your bed, wearing jeans, normal food. For me, it was Campbell’s tomato soup.”
“What?” I start to laugh. “Tomato soup?”
Garth nods. “Don’t ask me why, but the whole time I was away I craved tomato soup. When I came back, I couldn’t get enough of it.”
I shake my head. “Too funny. I wonder what I would miss.”
“Whatever it is, I guarantee it won’t be what you’d expect it to be.”
As we are passing Emporia, which is just about halfway, I ask Garth if he needs a bathroom break.
“That would be great,” he says.
I pull off the highway and head to the first gas station I see. While Garth finds the restroom, I fill the tank. Of course, the lack of car movement makes the boys wake up, and they ask to go to the bathroom, too. And get a snack. And get water. And start the movie again. By the time I take a pee break and we’re back on the road, a half hour has passed.
“What time does this thing start?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the dashboard.
“Noon. We’re good for time.” Garth reclines his seat a bit and gets comfortable. “So, have you talked to Nina?” he asks as casually as he can.
“Nope.”
His disapproving stare almost gives my cheek a tan. My shoulders sag.
“I know I need to. I hate not talking to her.”
“So what’s the problem? Pick up the phone.”
“I will. It’s just way past time and I don’t even know what to say to her.”
“Well, neither of you has been a particularly good friend at this point, so maybe start with ‘I’m sorry.’”
I start to argue, but don’t have the heart. He’s right. Nina and I have never before gone this long without talking.
“I’ll call her when we get home later.”
“You’ll feel better,” Garth says and shuts his eyes. “Mind if I take a catnap?”
“Go for it. I’ll probably sleep on the way back.”
“Guess that means I’m driving, then.” Garth smiles to himself.
Before long, he’s out.
* * *
As we pull into the parking lot of Hartman Arena, I can already see it’s a big event. We park nowhere near the entrance and have to hike to the doors. The boys are practically bouncing out of their shoes. Neither has ever been to Wichita.
Inside, Garth is greeted like he’s a regular at these events. Everyone waves or says hello or pats him on the back.
“Wow, I feel like I’m with the most popular boy in school,” I say to him.
He rolls his eyes. “Not quite. But if you go anywhere often enough, people are going to get to know you.”
We stop at a cluster of tables with a huge Wounded Warrior banner hanging above them. A clean-cut, good-looking older man gives us a big smile over the crowd around him.
“Garth, man, how are you?”
“I’m great, Jack. How are you doing?”
“I’m good.” He looks at the boys and me.
“I’m Jack.”
“Hi, I’m Jen.” I go to shake his hand and see that his right arm is gone. He offers his left hand and I’m a bit thrown. I rebound from the awkwardness with my usual grace and style.
“Oh, sorry, uh, hi.” I change my handshake position to a wave. “This is my son, Max, and his friend Zach.”
The boys are staring with their eyes and mouths wide open.
“Where’s your arm?” asks my chip off the old block.
“I lost it,” Jack says solemnly.
“Where did you lose it?” Max is almost whispering.
Jack puts his one hand on his hip.
“Well, if I knew that, don’t you think I’d go get it?”
Max starts to giggle and then so does Zach B.
Garth steps in.
“Sorry, where are my manners? Jen, Jack and I served together in Afghanistan.”
“Nice to meet you.” I give him a grateful look.
“You, too. How do you know this jarhead?”
I turn to look at Garth and raise my eyebrow.
“‘Jarhead.’ I like that.”
Garth gives me a fake scowl.
“I’ve been training Jen for the Kansas City Mud Run in April.”
“Well, you’re in good hands. He is one tough mudder himself. Are you signed up for today?”
“Nope,” I say. “We’re just spectators and supporters of the cause.”
“Well, you better get in there. It’s about to start. Garth, why don’t you guys sit in our section?” Jack offers.
“Great, thanks.” Garth steers me toward the arena. “Come on, guys, let’s get some seats.”
* * *
The indoor mud run is really impressive. The course takes up the entire floor of Hartman Arena, which is the size of a professional hockey rink.
Every inch has been carefully designated for a different obstacle, and I’d be lying if I said the sight didn’t scare the crap out of me.
“This is so cool!” Max screams over the loud music pumping through the arena speakers. He and Zach B. are taking it all in with huge grins on their faces. I grab their hands and lead them up into the stands. We take our seats by a handful of people who, judging by the number of missing body parts, are veterans, and their families. It’s then that I finally get a good look at the course. Before I start to freak out, Garth is talking me through it step by step.
“So, it starts with a run up to the top of the arena and back down again. Then you climb a rope over a ten-foot wall, followed by a long crawl through the mud over there that has barbed wire stretched across the top.” He points to the other side of the building.
“After that, you have to carry a huge log about five hundred yards with a group of people, then run up that thing that looks like a half-pipe wall. You need to get a lot of speed for that. You’ll want to quit halfway up, but good momentum should take you to the top. Climb over it, then jump into the freezing-cold water.”
I wince. I don’t even like lukewarm showers.
“Get out of the water and go over to the wall with the pegs. Grab two rings and hook them onto the pegs to get yourself across the moat. That’s probably the toughest part. You need a lot of upper-body strength. After that, it’s pretty smooth sailing. Normally, you’d have to jump through fire just before the ice bath, but the fire department wouldn’t give them an indoor permit, so it’s just running up and down a few dirt mounds before you cross the finish line.”
My heart is thumping like a jackrabbit’s, my mouth is dry, and I’m relatively certain I have soiled myself. I can’t speak.
Garth starts to laugh.
“Hey, what’s up? You could do this. You could totally do this.”
“In what universe can I jump through fire?”
“Well, it’s not really something we can practice, but you will find that in the heat of the moment—no pun intended—your adrenaline will carry you anywhere you need to go.”
He puts his arm across my shoulders and gives me a hug.
“You will do this, I promise.”
I look at Max, who is watching the arena floor and chomping on a hot dog—courtesy of Jack, who has just joined us—and suddenly it is very clear to me.
I will do this.
* * *
On the way home, I let Garth take the wheel and I nap. I have a terrible dream that I’m competing in the mudder but I only have one arm. I wake with a sudden jerk as I let go of the ring I’m holding on to on the pegboard.
“Holy crap!”
Garth looks at me. “Did you have a mud-mare?”
“I think I did,” I say, rubbing my eyes. I check out the backseat; the boys are watching yet another movie. Max has hit his screen time for the month, that’s for sure. “Is that normal?”
“Oh, yeah, especially while you’re training. What was it about?”
“I was competing, but I only had one arm. When I got to the pegboard I had to let go, because I couldn’t move the ring to the next peg.” I shake my head. “That was brutal.”
“You should see the guys do it who actually only have one arm. Insane upper-body strength.” There is a lot of admiration in Garth’s voice. I’m thinking I’ve only scratched the surface of my trainer’s surprising emotional depth.
* * *
When we get home, after dropping an exhausted Zach B. off, my prince of a husband takes charge of Max, which gives me time to wash the day off my body. After my shower, I wrap a towel around my head, grab my robe, and head to my side of the bed. This is it. I’m calling Nina until she picks up.
I’ve settled in for a long session of redialing, but she picks up on the first ring.
“Hi.” She is whispering.
“Hi. Why are you whispering?” I’m whispering, too, for no reason.
“Chyna just fell asleep on the couch. She was at a gymnastics tournament today and she’s beat.” I can tell Nina is moving into another room so she can talk.
“How did she do?” I ask. This is so weird.
“Third place overall for her age group. First place on the beam.”
“Wow, that’s great. Tell her I said way to go.”
“I will.”
And … silence. I take a deep breath.
“Look, Neens…”
“Hang on. Before you say anything, let me tell you how bad I feel about the way I’ve been acting. I’m really sorry. After I found Sid, I basically took a nosedive into depressed oblivion and I’ve just resurfaced.”
“Oh, Neens, I’m sorry, too. I just didn’t know what to do for you. And then when you didn’t help with my class mom situation, I just got really pissed.”
“Your what?”
“It’s nothing. Just that thing with Asami and Jakowski, you know…”
“What are you talking about? What happened?”
“Holy shit, you really don’t know?”
I briefly tell her all the gory details of my class mom downfall and how Principal Jakowski had apparently called and consulted her, but she told him she wasn’t interested in handling it and he should.
There is silence at the other end of the call. I think we’ve been cut off.
“Hello?”
“I’m here,” Nina says, but she sounds like her mind is elsewhere. “I don’t remember him even calling. Shit, this is worse than being blackout drunk.”
I laugh, but it comes out as a half laugh, half sob. Sort of like a hiccup.
Nina laughs. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m just so happy to be talking to you.” I sniffle.
“Yeah, well, I’m out of the bell jar so tell me everything.”
I give her the rundown on my ouster as class mom and also update her on Vivs and Laura. Suddenly something occurs to me.
“So, what ever happened with Sid? You seem kind of over it.”
“Oh, I’m way over it. What an asshat.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. It took me a while, but believe me, I’m here now. He actually hit on me.”
“You saw him?”
“No, on Facebook. Hang on, I’ll send it to you.” I hear some shuffling and Nina’s voice at a distance saying, “Girl, you are not going to believe it.”
My phone buzzes as Nina says more clearly. “Okay, I just copied the IMs and sent them to you.”
“Hang on.” I look at my phone and push Messages. I see what Nina has sent.
“Holy shit, how long is this?”
“Long. Just scroll. The first part is just us catching up and him explaining why he left. Not apologizing, mind you, just explaining that he freaked out and realized he wasn’t ready for a kid. That he thought it would be better for me if he left because he knew he wasn’t going to be able to help me.”
“Wait.” I’m scrolling and trying to listen to her at the same time. “He’s talking about not wanting to meet Chyna…”
“Oh, yeah. He doesn’t want to upset her life or his new kids’ lives. They aren’t even his kids! He married a pregnant widow.”
“Eww,” I say involuntarily, wondering just how desperate a woman would have to be to allow Sid into her kids’ lives.
“I know. Even I can see the eww in it now.”
I keep scrolling, trying to skim all the bullshit about his new life and new job at the high-tech company, which I find out is more of a low-tech company that makes the hydraulic mechanisms for office chairs, or “computer chairs,” as the company calls them. Explains the name of the company, Compu-lift. Apparently, Sid is a “tester,” which means he sits on his ass all day making sure the chairs go up and down.
“Huh. Sure that job isn’t too much for him?” I say into the phone.
Nina laughs. “Get to the good part.”
I keep scrolling and find where he talks about how tough marriage is.
“How the hell would he know? If that baby is a newborn he can’t be married more than a few months.”
“Seven.”
“Oh, my God. Who is this poor woman he married?”
“According to Sid, her dad owns the company where he works. He told me they’re grooming him to take over.”
I snort. “So he married the boss’s daughter. Good to know he uses his brain for something more than testing chairs.”
“What part are you at now?” Nina asks.
“Um … you’re asking if he will come to see Chyna.”
“Okay, read from there. This is when he makes the jump from scumbag to douchebag.”
I don’t want to tell her that jump was made years ago, so I just read.
Sid: I just think it would really mess Chyna up for me to walk into her life out of nowhere.
Nina: I’m sure she’d be happier finally getting to meet her father.
Sid: Doesn’t she have a father? Like one of the guys you hooked up with after me.
Nina: I never hooked up with anyone else.
Sid: Yeah, right.
Nina: I was a heartbroken single mother of a baby. I didn’t want to be with anyone.
Sid: Even after all these years?
Nina: I’ve been busy.
Sid: Busy missing me?
Nina: Busy raising a child, working, and volunteering at school. I don’t have time for that shit.
Sid: You had time for it with me.
Nina: Oh, please.
Sid: Remember the weekend we rented that cottage?
Nina: No.
Sid: Come on. We didn’t wear clothes the whole weekend. That’s the shit I remember. The shit I miss. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.
I stop reading.
“Gross!”
“What part?” says Nina’s disembodied voice.
“He’s reminding you of that weekend you rented the cottage.”
“The one that cost me a thousand dollars. How fucking stupid is he to bring that up?”
“I’m assuming that’s a rhetorical question.”
“Hardy-har. Keep reading.”
I return to the IM stream.
Nina: But not enough to come back.
Sid: Do you want me to come back?
Nina: For a long time I did.
Sid: What about now?
Nina: Now? Why would you come back now? You have a new family.
Sid: I could come for a visit.
Nina: I thought you didn’t want to meet Chyna.
Sid: I could come back and see you.
Nina: Why would you do that?
Sid: I don’t know. Just see what’s up.
Nina: What do you mean?
Sid: You seem lonely, baby. Maybe I could cheer you up a bit.
“Oh my God!” I scream at my phone.
“Can you believe him? I was like, where the hell did that come from?”
“I hope you shut him down.”
“Not well enough. I just said no, thanks, and haven’t answered any of his messages since.”
“When was the last time you heard from him?”
“Today. He sends me messages almost every day.”
“What do they say?”
Nina sighs. “It’s a lot of ‘What did I do, baby? Are you mad at me? I still want to come for a visit’ and shit like that. I should just block him, but I’m sort of enjoying torturing him a bit.”
“You aren’t torturing him enough!”
“But I really don’t want any contact with him. I think ignoring him is good enough.”
I’m not convinced, but it’s not my battle.
“My turn,” Nina says. “Whatever happened with your fantasy man? What was his name, again?”
“Don.” I smile. Finally I can talk to someone about this!
I tell her all about how fun he is to flirty-text with and read her some of my favorites.
“And in this one he asks me … Nina? Are you still there?”
I hear breathing on the other end of the line, and then Nina practically takes my head off.
“Jen, you need to shut this shit down immediately!”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Yeah, I’m serious.”
“Neens, they don’t mean anything. They’re totally harmless.”
“Oh, really? Do you show them to Ron? Are you and he getting a good old laugh about all those coffee double entendres?”
“No. But I would show them to him. They’re just funny.”
“So you wouldn’t mind if Ron had a little banter going on with an old girlfriend of his?”
“Jesus, he wasn’t my boyfriend,” I mutter. But I give her question some thought. Would I mind if I saw a stream like this on Ron’s phone?
“I see what you’re saying, and I get how it looks, but I know what my feelings are and I have no intention of cheating on Ron.”
Even I can hear how lame I sound, but all Nina says is “Yeah, well, it’s always fun until someone loses a husband. Just be careful.”
I really don’t want to fight with her, so I promise that I will.
We make plans for lunch the next day and, after a lot of “I love you”s and “I’m sorry”s, we hang up. I feel better than I have in weeks.