Chapter Fourteen

The next few days were a flurry of back-to-school shopping, responding to comments on my blog, and thinking up new posts. My followers seemed to crave them. It was weird to have an audience. They liked it if I said, “I hope you all have a great day,” but I tried to be more original.

I was trying to think up a gem of an idea while taking a really hard look in the mirror on Sunday morning. I’d gotten my butt back to the gym for a hip-hop class. Yeah, I said hip-hop. I thought since a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I had been a cheerleader, I could do a dance-style exercise class. I wasn’t sure what had happened to dance in the last twenty-plus years or so, but my body didn’t bend, shake, or twist like the instructors or the cute twenty-something-year-olds in the class who all looked at me like I had been born during the dawn of civilization.

So I was sore, humiliated, and naked, looking at myself in my full-length mirror. That’s when it struck me.

Now that I’m single, the big question on everyone’s mind is, “When will I date again?” I’m not sure if or when that will ever happen, but this I know. Not only will I require a marriage certificate the next time someone sees me naked, but they must also sign an NDA. That’s right, I want a written agreement that they will never discuss my naked body with another living soul, maybe not even me. Does anyone else feel this way?

I clicked publish.

What I wouldn’t do to have that twenty-two-year-old body again. The one I was nervous about showing off on my wedding night. What was wrong with me? I should have put that body on parade. It’s not like I had let myself go, but it wasn’t the same. Twenty-year-olds didn’t appreciate the bodies they were given. We should get those bodies when we’re forty and have the good sense to know how amazing they really are.

I limped around all day Sunday. I was getting older, but I wasn’t that old. Every part of my body ached. There would be no more hip-hop classes. I would have to try the walk and tone class, or maybe pull out my old exercise DVDs. Or I could just shove my face full of the Snickers apple salad I made to take to my parents’ for dessert. I wasn’t sure how it could be called a salad, considering there were candy bars in it, but I wasn’t going to argue. And I was telling everyone I ate salad for dinner.

To my distress, Cody drove us over to my parents’. The Snickers salad almost had a mishap when Cody slammed on his brakes because he was following behind the person in front of us too closely and they made a sudden stop. I was thankful for the plastic wrap that acted like a seal, and that I didn’t have bladder leakage issues yet. Teaching Cody how to drive was going to be the death of me or, perhaps, both of us.

By the time we arrived at my parents’, I was already frazzled, and my loved ones didn’t help. I was bombarded as soon as I walked in.

Ma was shaking her head at me before I could put the dessert in the fridge. “Samantha Marie.” Her sigh was as heavy as the tray of raw meat she was handing over to Dad to barbecue.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Cody Joseph, join Matt and Jimmy outside,” Ma instructed my son.

I thought for sure someone had died. Why else would Ma send Cody outside? And why was everyone else gathering around me? Even Dad, who was holding on to several pounds of steak. Mimsy was rubbing her rosary beads and silently praying. Oh, this wasn’t good.

Cody saw the writing on the wall and didn’t have to be told twice; he darted out of there.

To make matters more interesting, Reed showed up. Peter let him in before all the fun began. I didn’t even know he was invited. Did he have a permanent invite now?

I began to really worry when Dad’s face started to perspire, but then I noticed the evil grin on James’s face and Avery trying to hold in a laugh.

Reed walked in bearing another bouquet of flowers, this time peach roses. I loved peach roses. He stopped dead in his tracks, though, when he noticed the powwow going on in the kitchen.

“Am I interrupting anything?”

Ma shook her head again and huffed and puffed. “You might as well know too, since apparently the whole world does.” Ma laser focused her pale blue eyes on me.

I set the salad on the counter. “Ma, what’s wrong?”

“Do you know what I read this afternoon?” She placed her hand over her heart.

“The Reader’s Digest?” She loved that little magazine, and may very well be the only person that still had a paper version delivered.

“Besides that?”

“An obituary?” I guessed by her reaction.

“Well, I almost died after reading your . . . your . . . sexy talk.”

James erupted in a laugh. The meat tray in Dad’s hands faltered as he shuddered. And Mimsy began to pray out loud, asking for me to find my way. It didn’t help that I caught a glimpse of the concern in Reed’s eyes. I swore it looked like he might jump to my defense, the way he looked between Ma and me.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ma.”

“Of course you do. Everyone does. Even Bobbie Jean next door knows you’ve been writing all over the place about your sex life and how much you hate men and marriage.”

If I wasn’t so embarrassed that Reed was getting yet another front row seat to the “humiliate Samantha show,” I might have been impressed that my parents’ ninety-year-old neighbor was online.

Instead, I sighed. “Ma, I’m not writing about my sex life, per se, and I know not all marriages are bad.” I looked at Delanie, who was glued to Peter’s side, to prove my statement. They both gave me sympathetic grins. “But my marriage didn’t turn out the way I thought it would, and I’m just being real. I think it’s helpful.”

“It’s helpful to tell people that you’re going to be naked and you need an NDA? What is that short for? Is it some type of code word for doing, you know, the deed?”

Avery’s laugh found a way out, though she tried to hold it back.

Dad, without a word, turned around and ran for the patio door.

Mimsy’s prayers got a little louder.

Reed’s brow hit his hairline.

I walked over to Ma and took her hands. “Ma, an NDA is a non-disclosure agreement.”

“What does that mean, and why do you need one? You shouldn’t even be having sex. You’re not married.” She was beside herself.

And now I remembered why I’d had some issues with sex when I first got married. My entire life, I was told how bad sex was, and how horrible things would happen to me if I had it before I got married. Talk like that kind of does something to you. And it’s not easy to flip a switch and go from “sex is bad” to “oh, sex is good.” That’s why I’d always told Cody that sex was beautiful, but it needed to be done with the right person at the right time. He doesn’t appreciate those talks.

I looked around the room at everyone, and they all got the hint that I needed a private word with Ma. That was, everyone but Mimsy got the hint. It was probably good that Mimsy stayed. She needed to hear this too.

With everyone shuttled out to the backyard, I turned to the two women I loved but had complicated relationships with. They were good women with the best of intentions, but sometimes what they considered good for you wasn’t right for you at all. I knew they loved me, but how they showed it wasn’t always the way I needed it. They were byproducts of their generations and their own upbringings. They came from a work hard, stay in the lines, don’t wear your emotions on your sleeve kind of stock. Both of them could be affectionate, but it was within their boundaries. And the world they lived in was black and white. The older I got, the more I realized life wasn’t so cut and dry. There had been a lot of gray in my life, and lately a lot of red.

I dropped Ma’s hand and took a deep breath. “Ma, Mimsy, I love you both, but this has to stop. I’m a grown woman and, honestly, my sex life is none of your business.”

Ma grabbed her heart again like I’d stabbed her. Mimsy, on the other hand, bounced on the balls of her feet like she was excited about something. She was still rubbing her rosary beads, but at least the prayers had ceased.

“So you’re saying you have a sex life?” Ma wasn’t hearing me.

“I’m saying I need you to love and support me.”

“But are you having sex?”

I held onto the counter for support. “Ma! I’m not having sex. Are you happy?”

“Yes.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

“The point is that I’m trying to deal with my divorce.” I gave Mimsy a cold stare. “Please don’t start in on the evils of divorce.” I turned back to Ma. “Ma, I’m trying to live again. To be the mom Cody deserves. I’m trying to learn what makes Samantha Decker tick and what she wants to do with the rest of her life. I’m scared and exhausted, but I’m doing the best I can right now. Those blog posts are helping me not get lost in my head. And yes, I may talk about sex and men from time to time. I’m almost forty years old. It’s allowed. And it shouldn’t be any surprise that I don’t have a lot of love for the opposite sex right now. Neil did a lot of damage. I’m trying to repair that.”

“Oh, my girl.” Ma wrapped me up in her arms.

Mimsy joined in and tried to put her tiny, wrinkly arms around us. She made it about halfway. She was so short she was resting her hands on my butt. It was the only action it had seen in months.

I rested my head on Ma’s shoulder.

“I love you, Samantha Marie.”

“You’re a good girl.” Mimsy patted my butt. That wasn’t awkward at all.

For a split second, I thought we were going to leave it at this beautiful moment, but I should have known better.

Ma kissed my cheek. “Just make sure to keep your NDAs to yourself. You can win a man’s heart through his stomach, not his manhood.” That was something that should never be embroidered on a pillow or said again.

“Okay, Ma. Okay.” What else could I say after that?