Christina Aguilera—You Lost Me
Beyoncé—Irreplaceable
James Bay—Let It Go
The same blue car that Mom’s had for years is sitting in the driveway when I finally arrive at her house after my four-hour drive. I’ve calmed down a little after collecting the rest of my things and I’ve had time to think, but as soon as I see the house that I grew up in with my parents, the floodgates open.
I park haphazardly and get out, heading right into the house through the crimson door, not bothering to get my suitcases or boxes. I need my mom.
I haven’t seen her much in the last two years since my dad passed away. I came back for a few days for his funeral, but she insisted that she was fine afterward and told me I should go home and get on with my life.
His sudden passing hit me harder than I let people see, choosing to put on a brave face for everyone around me. I’m good at closing my emotions off now, but eventually it started eating away at me which made me throw myself into my work.
There was a lot of love and fun in our house growing up, and there wasn’t a day that went by that I wasn’t told I was loved. My parents used to take me on picnics and bike rides through the countryside; we didn’t have a lot of money, but there was no shortage of love and laughter. I can’t recall a memory from my childhood that doesn’t have me laughing in it. They were both my rocks and it broke my heart moving away from them after college, but staying here was the harder option, so I left.
I walk into the living room, a giant ball of emotion building in my throat as I see Mom curled up in the armchair, reading a book. I don’t need to say anything, she sees the distraught look on my face and places her book on the coffee table as she stands, enveloping me in a warm hug.
“Hey, shush. Everything’s going to be okay, my little Harmonica,” she coos into my hair.
I cry—a lot—and by the time I’m finished, we’re sitting on the floor, my head on her legs as she leans against the sofa. I may be twenty-nine-years-old, but right now I feel like I did when I was a small child.
She strokes my hair softly, not pushing for answers as she waits for me to talk.
I sniff and voice my thoughts, my voice sounding croaky. “My marriage is over.”
With those four simple words, the fog from my head lifts and a wave of sadness comes crashing down on me again, bringing with it another round of tears. Still, she doesn’t push me, letting me tell her in my own time.
The last of my tears dry up and I push off her lap, leaning against the sofa beside her and pulling at a piece of invisible thread on my jeans, not knowing what to say to her. She sighs, standing and pulling me up onto my feet by my hands, leading me into her brightly colored kitchen as I think about what to start with.
I watch as she flits from one end to the other, busying herself making the chamomile tea she always says makes you feel better. As she finishes up, I lean against the doorframe and let my eyes wander over the cerulean cupboards, feeling a painful pang as I remember watching my dad build them when I was a little girl.
Sighing, I move into the room slowly and take a seat at the multicolored table, staring ahead at the colorful painting on the wall; it’s one I painted when I was a teenager. The colors swirl together conveying every angst-filled emotion I was feeling at the time. I was going to throw it away but dad fell in love with it and hung it pride of place in the most colorful room in the house; a place that he built with his own two hands.
I jump when Mom places the cup of tea in front of me and I smile at her appreciatively. “Do you ever wish that things were as hard as you thought they were when you were a teenager?”
She chuckles. “That would be the life.” Watching as I take a sip of tea, she puts her hand on mine. “What happened, hon?” I try to swallow past the lump in my throat and shake my head, looking down at the red cup in my hands. “Relationships are hard work, you have to wade through the bad times to get to the good.”
“But what if you’re drowning in the bad times? What if the good times are pretty much non-existent anymore?” It hurts saying it aloud to my mom, I haven’t ever told her anything, letting her think that I was completely happy. But I’ve realized that I’ve had rose-tinted glasses on for the whole relationship, only noticing Gerry’s careless comments in recent years. “Gerry cheated on me. And I know that it was more than once,” I announce.
I don’t know what I’m expecting from her, but instead of shouting and cursing him out with me, she sits in silence, contemplating what she’s going to say to me.
After a beat she says, “Life’s too short to not live a contented and fulfilled life.” She pauses before squeezing my hand. “But it’s also a long time to live without someone you equally respect and love by your side, to keep you afloat during the bad times. I can’t tell you what to do, but I hope you will do whatever feels right for you and not anyone else.”
“I’m more sad than angry that it’s ended up this way, I wasn’t ready for it to end so soon. I wanted to try and work things out, but that choice has been ripped away from me.” I nod my head like I’m affirming my decision. “I can’t ever go back to him now. This has cemented my decision that we aren’t right for each other anymore.”
I did love Gerry, especially in the beginning. He helped me get over my heartbreak and get through the rest of my college years, he kept me above water. There was a time when we could wade through the bad times together, but after the first few years after we moved away, I can’t remember one instance where that happened.
I glance over at Mom’s reassuring face, deciding to give her a small smile of my own to show her that I’m not completely falling apart.
She stands, motioning for me to join her. “If you’re happy with this decision, I will support you in any way that I can.”
I walk into her arms and rest my head on her shoulder. “All I need you to do is to keep being you, you always know what to say. Oh, and I need a lawyer, I can’t stand being married to him for one more second.”
She pulls back, flitting her eyes between mine before she lets go of me and opens a drawer, taking out her address book and tapping a number written on the page. “Call this firm in the morning, they helped me with your father’s assets when he passed.”
I sniffle. “Thanks, Mom. One more thing, you don’t happen to be wanting a roomie, do you?”
Her shoulders shake softly as she chuckles. “It just so happens that I was going to put an ad in the paper tomorrow, I better cancel it.”
I laugh but it doesn’t sound joyful, it’s weak and full of sadness. “I better go and get my things.”
She wipes a lone tear from my cheek while looking into my eyes. “I’m so proud of the woman that you’ve become, Harmony. You’re kind, warm-hearted, creative, and you see life through an optimist’s eyes. Don’t change that now, don’t let the world and Gerry’s indiscretions taint your colorful perspective on life. Cry and be angry at him, but now you’ve made your decision, you need to be ready for a new beginning. Don’t start it out by moping around.” She pauses, letting that sink in before she says, “Go and bring your things in and we’ll get you set up in your old room.”
I try to give her a small smile, it hurts to fake it but it seems to placate her because she nods and sends me on my way.
“Come on, Harmony. Don’t you think you should start looking for a real career instead of entertaining your hobby? You’re not getting any younger, y’know.”
He chuckles and I push my chair back from the table, keeping my hands connected with the wood.
“I have a real career, Gerry. What I do has no less merit than what you do.” I raise my brows, daring him to keep putting me down.
“Oh, don’t make this out to be tit for tat, Harmony. Finger painting is not the same as fine art.”
Tap. Tap. Tap.
He doesn’t look up from his laptop and I ball my hands into fists, feeling my nails digging into my palms as I clench my fists tight. I can’t believe the audacity of him—yet again. I stare at his face, not saying anything as I shake my head. What’s the point in going over this argument again? I know he won’t change his opinion of my career choice, and he knows he won’t ever stop me from working in the studio.
It’s a fruitless argument but he decides to add one more careless comment to the mix. “I could speak to the dean. With your art major, you’d be the perfect candidate to be my TA.”
And there it is. He doesn’t see me as an equal, he’s always seen me as a lesser version of himself despite us both being completely in awe of everything that is art.
The one thing we bonded over in the beginning of our relationship is now turning into our downfall.
I wake up with a small sheen of sweat on my forehead, thinking about the conversation Gerry and I had the morning that I found out he was cheating on me. It was the final straw that had me wanting to talk to him about things changing. I always supported him in everything that he did, yet he never once praised me for the work that I was doing with the kids in the studio. The bitter resentment I feel toward him now seeps through my bones like the chill on a winter’s day.
I married him and moved four hours away from my family to be with him only months after finishing college. I was young and naive, but so in love—or so I thought. He’d shown up and took interest in me when I was thrown to the curb like a piece of trash by him. I was feeling unwanted and my twenty-one-year-old self lapped up the attention he was offering.
I listen out for any movement in the house but hear nothing so I pull back the covers and leave my room before padding down the stairs and into the kitchen. I’m glad Mom’s at work today, I sought her comfort yesterday, but now I need space to think.
I clutch my cellphone in one hand, staring down at the number in her address book with a lump in my throat as I think about his betrayal. About how easily he threw our marriage to the side for a tumble in the sheets with someone that looked like one of his students. I’m aware that she probably was and that it’s also illegal, but my mind isn’t processing anything properly.
I squeeze my eyes shut. How could he do that to me? The betrayal switches to anger and my eyes spring open before I punch in the numbers, pressing call, fully determined to get the ball rolling on ridding myself of him.
“Raine, Cole, and Associates, Tara speaking. How may I help you?”
“Hi, Tara, I’m looking to file a divorce. I was wondering if you could help me.” My voice sounds bitter and I try to swallow it down.
“Certainly. Hold one moment, please,” she replies courteously.
I’m put on hold and I wait, pacing the kitchen as the instrumental music plays over the line. It’s five minutes before the music finally stops and a male voice comes on the line. “Hello?”
“Hi, I’m guessing you’re the one that can help me out with my predicament?”
He chuckles. “Tara said you were looking to file a divorce and I’m confident that I can help you out. It’s not customary to do this over the phone though, can we get you an appointment slot to come down to the office?”
“Sure.”
“Just looking through the books now, how does… two weeks from now sound?”
“Oh, I—I was hoping for something a lot sooner.” I can’t keep the disappointment out of my voice, the thought of still being married—albeit separated—with a man that could sleep with someone behind my back disgusts me.
“Look, Mrs…”
“Valentine, but please, call me Harmony.”
“Harmony?” His voice raises a few octaves and is silent for several seconds before he clears his throat. “Okay, Harmony, here’s what I’m going to do for you. I have a meeting this coming Monday with a close friend that I can push back by an hour. I can fit you in then but you’d have to be here at eight in the morning. How does that sound?”
My whole body sags in relief that it’s just two days away before I can talk to him and get the ball rolling. “Thank you, you don’t know how much I appreciate that.”
“You’re more than welcome. When you come in, tell the receptionist you’re here to see Cole.”
“I will. Thanks again, Cole. Bye.”
“My pleasure. Take care, Harmony.”
I hang up and flop onto one of the chairs at the table, my arms hanging over my knees. It feels like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders from one phone call and I’m so ready for Monday.
Drinking my cup of coffee in silence, I stare at the painting in front of me. Today is the start of a new beginning. I know it’ll take time for the whole divorce to come through, but I’m hoping both Gerry and I agree to everything so it doesn’t have to take as long as it could if he fought me for everything. All I want is half of our savings, nothing more, he can have everything else.
I drink the last dregs of coffee and take a deep breath, placing my cup in the sink and picking up my purse and keys. I lock up the front door with the key that Mom left for me and get into my car.
The drive to the city doesn’t take as long as I thought. I’m twenty minutes early, standing outside of the law firm, twiddling my thumbs. Ten minutes later a woman in a tight, gray dress and a tray of coffees in her hand appears, opening the doors and walking inside.
I wait for all of the lights to turn on before walking inside and looking around at the fancy but stark interior. There’s a sleek, white desk with the firm’s name scrawled across it in front of me with the same woman from earlier sitting behind it. I walk over to her and she smiles at me.
“Hi, I have an eight o’clock appointment with Cole… sorry, he didn’t give me his last name.”
She taps the keyboard in front of her. “Of course, Mrs. Valentine. He’s not arrived yet, but if you take a seat in the waiting area, I’m sure he’ll be here soon. Can I get you a coffee or something else to drink?”
“I wouldn’t mind some water if it isn’t too much trouble,” I reply.
“I’ll bring it right out for you,” she says, pointing to a seating area to her left.
I sit down in the black leather chair and watch as the front door opens, men and women in suits filing in one by one. I tear my eyes away from them, suddenly feeling nervous as the woman at the front desk approaches me with a glass of water, placing it on the table in front of me.
“Can I get you anything else?”
“No, thank you.”
“Mr. Cole just walked in so I’m sure he’ll be out in just a minute.”
Mr. Cole? “Okay,” I manage out, clearing my throat. “Okay, thank you.”
My throat is suddenly so dry that I have to take a sip of the water, but I struggle to swallow it as my eyes meet the cheeky grin of the man that is walking toward me. His green eyes sparkle in amusement and I stand shakily, watching as his gaze rakes down my body. It should make me feel uncomfortable, but it doesn’t; I know this man all too well.
“Harmony Jameson, you’re looking good.”
A smile breaks me out of the shock of seeing him again after all these years. “Well, if it isn’t Nathan Cole, the heartbreaker.”
He chuckles and hesitates, not knowing whether to hug me or shake my hand. He goes for the safer, more professional, option of shaking my hand, and I take it gladly—if a little apprehensive.
“I had an inkling it was you over the phone, can’t forget your singsong voice,” he says, scanning my face before shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Anyway, would you like to follow me down to my office?”
We walk along a winding hallway that curves around the building and he points to a red track on the edge. “I wouldn’t stand on that if I were you.”
Just as I jump off, two men come running past us and my mouth hangs open. “What…”
He chuckles and points toward a row of doors, waving me inside as he holds the third one open.
“We try to make the workplace fun. We’re sitting in offices most of the time, so keeping up our health and fitness is a big priority. It was actually one of our interns that came up with the idea for the run around.”
I walk into the spacious office that is fitted with bookcases along the walls and a dark, mahogany desk sitting in the middle of the room. “Makes sense. I bet it’s great for morale.”
He nods. “Won more cases than ever due to all the new changes. Anyway, sit, sit.” He points to a chair in front of his desk, so I sit down tentatively. Now the shock of seeing him has worn off, I’m not sure having him as my attorney is such a good idea since we used to be so close.
“Harmony Jameson,” he says again, chuckling and shaking his head. “How are you?”
I look around his office, mumbling, “Obviously not doing as well as you.”
He barks out a laugh and undoes the button on his suit jacket, sitting down in his chair on the other side of the desk. “I haven’t seen you since…” He trails off. “College.”
The inseparable four.
I clear my throat, not wanting to think back to that time. “Yeah. I moved away for a while, but I’m back now.”
He nods, his brow furrowing before he shakes his head, his expression changing to all business. “So, you’re having problems with your husband?”
“Yes.” I squirm in my seat.
He leans forward, his arms braced on the desk in front of him. “If you’re uncomfortable with me being your attorney, I can find someone else in the firm that—”
“No, it’ll take some time to get used to but honestly… I don’t want to wait for somebody else to have the time to fit me in.”
He studies my face for a minute before clicking the top down on a pen and pulling a pile of papers toward him. “Well, alright then, let’s get started.”
He talks about the separation process and how since we’re already not living together that we can go right into the process of filing a “Complaint for Dissolution of Marriage.” My head spins as he turns from happy-go-lucky Nate to a professional lawyer as I try to retain all of the information he gives me.
“I will notify your husband that you have filed for a divorce but since he’s expecting it already, it shouldn’t be too long before he sends back his voluntary appearance document.” He pauses and looks back up at me. “That’s if he agrees to everything.”
“I’m sorry,” I splutter. “If he agrees?”
“Of course, the reasons stated here: Adultery, verbal abuse, breakdown of marriage. He must agree that these are all valid reasons for your divorce before we can move forward with splitting the assets.”
“And what if he doesn’t agree?”
He pauses for a minute before sliding the papers into a manila envelope. “He can file an ‘answer’ stating that the reasons for divorce are wrong, or that he doesn’t agree to a divorce. If this is the case, it will take a lot longer as there will have to be a hearing set up for you to plead your case in front of a judge.”
I let my head drop, looking down at my hands in my lap. Plead my case? My heart starts pounding. Why can’t this just be simple?
“Okay.” I can’t muster up more than that.
I lift my head and my eyes connect with his. He hesitates, clearly wanting to say something before shaking his head and deciding not to.
“If you need anything at all, please call me.” He pushes a card across the desk. “That’s my personal number for my clients.”
“Thank you.” I pick up the rectangular card with his details on before looking back up at him. “So, after he signs the papers, you file them then we can go through our assets?”
“Yes, that’s generally how it goes. Are there any other questions you had?”
My mind turns to mush. “I… I don’t think so, but if I think of any, I’ll be sure to call you.”
He smiles, his business face gone as he stands and walks me out of his office and into the reception area. “I’ll be in touch when we receive his agreement or reply to move forward.”
“Great. Thank you for not making this weird.”
He laughs. “I’m a professional before anything, plus, you’re a friend so I want to make sure this divorce goes in your favor.”
I chuckle. “Thank you.”
“It’s been good to see you again, Harmony. I know the circumstances are… less than favorable, but regardless, it was nice to see you,” he says, touching my arm.
“You too, Nathan.”
He opens the front doors for me and I walk out, breathing in the city air and feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.