Justine

If I close my eyes, my children’s empty rooms taunt me. In a split second, motherhood has been stripped from my soul. Before I have a chance to explode at my ex-husband, he opens his mouth, and my desire to seize the fire poker and rip out his eye sockets is real.

“Justine, you’re controlling! If I don’t get our kids away from you, you’ll crush them. Your approach is pushing them away. Rose came home today crying because you called her a floozy. And did I understand you right? You called Kai a pothead?”

“Funny how they’re suddenly our fucking kids, when for the last eight years, they’ve been my sole responsibility.” By the time I finish my sentence, I’m screaming.

The vase near my hand beckons me to throw it at my ex-husband’s head; my hands clench against the urge to smash it against his arrogant face. My breath quickens to short gasps. Beads of sweat race down my face, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

In the midst of our showdown, his smug smile leaves me with a desire to slap him.

“You can fight me on this, but you won’t win, not now. They’re sixteen and seventeen, and their preferences will sway a judge’s decision!” he yells.

Fear grips me that he may be right. “And when did you graduate from law school?” I ask sardonically as the blood rushes through my head. Fury swells in my gut and anger clutches my chest. I feel as empty as my bank account was the day I left Rafe. How dare he threaten me like this? “And yes, I called Rose a floozy. She’s sleeping with Jones to get attention. Maybe she needs your fucking attention since all your effort has been focused on your new family, instead of the one we started almost eighteen years ago.”

“Oh, this again.” Rafe unloads arrogance in the way only the president could pardon Richard Nixon. “I know, I know, Justine. You use my family as a reason for hating me more and more every time you dump on me.”

I hate Rafe Hernandez, but I also love him in a way I can never articulate. It might have something to do with the two children who want to disown me in this moment.

They own me, though the emptiness they’ve left in my heart mocks me.

“Abuse is not just physical harm, you know,” he retorts.

His vicious accusations prompt me to grab the vase and pitch it just left of his head. My aim is good, and if I’d wanted, I would have hit the son of a bitch.

“You were an ass when we were married, but now, there’s nothing I can say.” I spin around as a single tear falls from my eye. I don’t need him thinking I’ve turned soft through the years. My voice is now raspy from all the screaming.

“Again, this is really mature, Justine!” His arrogance is gone. In a split second, in my anger, I walk toward him. Like the wimp he is, he scurries away from me. He seems almost scared.

Yes, be very scared of me, Rafe Hernandez. You just poked a mother bear, and now I’m fucking enraged.

Before I retreat into my lonely house, I find eyes peeled on me. In all the excitement of Rafe, I’d forgotten a new neighbor was moving in today. Part of me should be embarrassed, as if I am being judged, but I am nothing if not transparent.

“Well, that was the welcoming party. Sorry, I guess he doesn’t want to celebrate with us.” It’s rude, but the climate of our relationship should be established right now. If my snippy words fail, maybe slamming the door will work. Sooner rather than later, my neighbor needs to know what a bitch I am. I certainly don’t want him borrowing sugar from me at all hours or trying to be neighborly.

* * *

Nick

“Do you want to tell me what’s on your mind now or can I get dressed first?” I ask my strong-minded daughter as I lean against the back of the couch. I am glad Justine has become acquainted with the number one lady in my life. I have loved her without fault since the day they placed this bundle of sweetness in my arms, but she is a bit challenging to say the least.

“Dad, you just moved here. How can you know her well enough to let her come in here and help herself as she pleases?”

“Emma, I am the dad here. You forget sometimes.” My tone is playfully stern. “But if you have to know, there is something about this woman. It may sound cliché but I would like to see where this can go.” I don’t owe her an explanation, but she may act better with one. At least, I can hope.

“I walked in and she’s having a shot of your expensive whisky and it’s not even noon.”

“Well, good, I’m glad. She had a bad dream, so awful I had to wake her up. She apparently needs to calm her nerves.”

“She slept here?” Her eyes bug out, as though they are about to pop from her sockets.

“Look outside, my dear. Do you think she can sleep over there? Tyler, am I going to get any help from you, son?”

“Well, babe, she’s an attractive lady. Your dad has needs.”

Clearing my throat, I laugh. “Son, that is not really what I was talking about.” I can’t fault Ty. He obviously has great taste in women, he married my daughter after all, but Tyler adds humor to all situations. Looking at Emma, her hands are now firmly placed on her hips, trying to show authority in this relationship. “Listen, Ems, you have always been a grade-A bitch to every woman I have dated. I ask you to cut this woman some slack. I can tell she’s different, and if I'm being honest, I think she might give you a run for your money in the bitch department.” Most may fault me for referring to my daughter as a bitch but it is more a fact than a put down.

“Is that possible?” Tyler asks.

Emma looks from side to side as if she’s at a tennis match. Finally throwing in the towel to this argument, she looks at us. “You both are assholes, but I’m stuck with you,” she grumbles, turning to Tyler. “Let’s go.” Being the strong-minded girl I am so proud of, she stomps away without another word to me.

As they walk out, Tyler looks back at me, gives me two thumbs up, and shouts enthusiastically, “Way to go, Nick!”