Jackie

The one good thing about post-divorce dating was the lack of time to moon around. Between chauffeuring the kids to various places, going for a run with Wendy, and working a shift at the art store, I had very little time to dwell on how absolutely humiliating my night with Leo had been.

It wasn’t until Wednesday morning, after I’d delivered the kids and Tristan’s oversized Socials project to school, that I actually had time to stew in my middle-aged version of teen angst.

I had just sat down with a cup of tea when I got a call. “Jackie, how’s the house clean-up going?” Brent asked.

“Not even a hello?” I wondered.

“Okay. Hello, how’s the house clean-up going?”

“It’s going fine,” I said, crossing my fingers. I hadn’t started it yet. First, the project with Wayne’s company had taken all my time, and then everything with Leo had distracted me. Plus, I didn’t even want to sell the house in the first place.

“Great, because I’ve got a realtor lined up to come in. Do you remember Andrew Milton? He’s a heavy hitter in West Van. How’s tomorrow work for you?”

“Not tomorrow,” I pleaded. What excuses could I give? “Look, Brent, I need more time to get the place looking really tip-top. The kids have had a lot of stuff on.”

“Well, I’ve got the kids this weekend. That should give you lots of time. Actually, that’s perfect, because I’ll get a chance to inspect the place and see if anything else needs to be done.”

Brent assumed I ate bonbons and took bubble baths while he had the kids. But I wasn’t about to tell him that I had a date. And since when did he get to treat me like an employee?

“You know, you still have a bunch of stuff here. How about you come and clear that out too?”

“Box it up for me, and I’ll pick it up,” he said. “Look, I’ve got a meeting in two minutes. We can talk later.” He hung up before I could squeak another word of protest.

With the motivation of more time with Leo on the weekend, I got busy on the house. The house looked good, but I needed to clear the excess clutter to make the rooms look more spacious.

I switched on HGTV for inspiration and began filling garbage bags and boxes. The work was dusty and difficult, but also energizing. I was in a very unsentimental mood, which was the perfect mindset for getting rid of things. Candlestick holders from Brent’s Aunt Claudia that I’d never liked: toss them! Some items I could repurpose for the family suites, which meant I could make a little money as well.

Sharon dropped by at lunchtime. “Hey-ho! I was in the area, so I thought I’d come by and eat my sandwich in your company.”

“Sure. Did you want a coffee or something to go with that? I already ate a salad, but there are cookies.”

“Don’t worry. It’s nice to relax for a few minutes and get to use a toilet that’s not a port-a-potty.”

“What are you doing?” she asked as she picked her way through the stacks of books and knickknacks. The place was a mess of course, since decluttering meant cluttering first.

“I’m practising The Magical Art of Tidying Up by discarding everything that doesn’t bring me joy.”

“Oh, that crazy Japanese book,” she said. “I’ve heard about women who cleared their houses and ended up throwing out their husbands too.”

“Well, that step’s already been done for me. Brent is the reason I’m even doing this. He thinks that if the place looks open-house ready, we’ll get more money for it.”

Sharon opened her lunch box and nodded. “That explains the horrible TV choice.” She hated HGTV since clients who watched it religiously seemed to change their renovation plans daily.

“Listen, Jackie, I’ve got some great news for you. There’s a restaurant near me, and they have a big gallery space in the back. I was talking to the manager, and they feature local artists. So I signed you up for a show in October.”

That statement knocked the breath out of me.

She continued. “You’d actually be doing her a favour. They book these things a year in advance, and some idiot dropped out. But it gives you six months to get ready. You’ve probably got enough paintings right now anyway.”

“Wow. Do you think I’m good enough?” Everything that happened with Brent had sapped my meagre artistic confidence.

“Of course. And I had a few photos of your place on my phone, so I showed Darlene—that’s the manager—your paintings and she was keen. It’s more to support local artists anyway. It’s not the Vancouver Art Gallery or anything.”

“Gosh, thank you. This is pretty overwhelming.” It was extremely scary to expose my paintings to the public, but exciting too.

Sharon handed me a business card. “You should go see the space and confirm everything with Darlene. Also, she suggested you get a website.”

A website? But I had been considering giving up painting. As Brent had hinted, it was a waste of time. “Okay, seriously. Can I ask you something? Brent said my paintings are devaluing the house and we needed something more neutral. What do you think?” I was over the initial breathtaking pain of his remark, but it was still tough to say out loud.

Her mouth dropped open. “No way. He said that to you?”

“Yeah. I wondered if I was overreacting, but judging from your reaction, no.”

“Would you say that to someone? Even if it was true—which is up for debate—painting is so important to you, so why even go there?”

“Wait. So it is true?”

“I love your art. It’s bright, cheerful, and fun. But that’s how our personalities are. Someone boring like Brent probably likes more traditional stuff. And I know from doing renos that the majority of people like the same things they see everywhere else.” Sharon pointed to the TV. “Like that kitchen. You get trends in kitchens like grey granite countertop with white cabinets. Before it was oak cabinets with marble.”

We both watched as a happy young couple walked through their newly renovated house.

“We could do that,” she said.

“Get married and renovate our new house? Hate to break it to you, Sharon, but I’m not that into you.”

She laughed. “No. Buy a house and flip it. I could do the renos and you could do the design side.”

“Buy a house? That’s what I want to do, and I can’t afford one.”

“No. You can’t afford to buy a house in West Van. If you looked in other neighbourhoods, you could buy one.”

I groaned. “Is this about moving closer to you? As I was walking back to my car the other night, I saw a drug deal going on.”

“Well, it’s not like this neighbourhood. All the drug deals go on inside the houses around here. But there are things you’d enjoy; most of my neighbours are artistic as fuck. And Kayla’s school is really great. The teachers are good, and the students are more diverse. Now Kayla gets that some people are really struggling—language, money, personal issues. When we lived here, she always wanted things that her friends had and we couldn’t afford. She’s more appreciative of what she has.”

“So you want me to buy one of those horrible, termite-infested houses formerly owned by a satanic cult, so we can turn it into a model home? And where am I supposed to live in the meantime? I’ve watched the shows, I know how horrible living through a renovation is.”

“No, you could rent in the meantime. It all depends on how much money you get from selling this place. Oh, did you want my real estate agent’s contact info? Carole Levine is great.”

“Brent’s already—no wait, yes, I would.” I needed to take a bigger part in selling this place. Brent wouldn’t have to deal with the agent on a daily basis, but I would. I wanted someone I liked.

Sharon pulled out her phone and gave me the number. “Seriously, Jackie, think about it. People are making pretty good money on flips.”

“But what would I be contributing? You already know a lot of designers. I’m not even a real designer.”

“You’re the one with the capital. I don’t have enough money to buy a doghouse in Vancouver. Besides, you do have a great eye for interiors. Look at this place.”

I nodded. “But Brent said that the real estate market is going to go down. That’s one of the reasons we’re selling. It’s a risky time to buy and flip.”

“That’s only Brent’s opinion. He can’t tell the future any better than anyone else. If you look at a graph of the Vancouver real estate market over the past forty years, it looks like a freaking comet.” She pointed upwards. “Besides, Brent divorced you and started dating Margaret Whittaker, so we already know his sanity is in question.”

“Preaching to the choir. But hey, he’s a good father, and he’s honoured everything in the settlement.”

“Yeah, you’re lucky.” Sharon’s ex-husband was a deadbeat, who had fled the province and never paid child support beyond the first six months. “Still, he’s forcing you to leave the house.”

“Actually, I went back and reread the separation agreement. Since Brent will no longer be paying our mortgage, he’s going to have to pay alimony instead. Selling now triggers that.” I had been in a total daze when Brent left, but my father insisted that I get a really good divorce lawyer—something I appreciated now.

“Wow. Are you going to be rolling in it?”

“Hardly. But it will cost him more than the mortgage payments, which makes me think that he is serious about the real estate collapse.”

Sharon nodded. “You know, you’re sounding a little like Brent today. All this business talk.”

“Oh please. But you know how it is, once you’re a single mom you have to do everything: from taking out the garbage to paying all the bills. I had to be forced into this role.”

“I think you’re stronger now, Jackie.” She leaned forward. “Think about this house flipping idea. You know we’d work well together. And it’s a way to make money and be your own boss.”

“I’ll think about it.” I wasn’t really an entrepreneur though. I liked jobs like the one Wayne gave me, where there was a job to do and praise when you did it well.

“Okay, I’m off to use your lovely three-piece bathroom with working plumbing.” She rose and then sat down. “Oh, I almost forgot the real reason I came here. How was your second date with Coach Cutie Pie?”

I groaned. “It was a disaster and a half. First off, my chosen activity was something he hates. And second…” I hesitated. How much of my night of humiliation did I want to share?”

I had Sharon’s full attention. “Oh no. You fucked him and it was terrible?”

“No, the opposite. I couldn’t do the deed. I was way too nervous, and he sensed that. He didn’t want to keep going if I was that tense.”

She squinted at me. “So, is that it? You guys are done?”

“No. That’s the only good part. Leo was so sweet and patient. He thinks I’m worth waiting for.” I blushed. He was complimentary and affectionate. I’d never dated anyone like him before.

“He’s willing to wait a week. Fucking Hercules. But clearly it’s enough to bowl you over. Why were you so nervous anyway?”

“Oh, you know. Only a million reasons. Like what if he’s used to younger, tighter women? I have squishy abs. And there’s the scar from my caesarean.”

“Jackie! Fuck this! You’re in great shape. You’re a runner, so you’ve got strong legs and a cute butt. And you’re so pretty. I don’t want to hear this negative talk anymore.”

I made a face. “It’s funny, but that’s what Leo said too.”

“That you’re pretty with a cute butt?”

“Well, sort of. But also that he didn’t want to hear me put myself down.”

“Good for him. It’s a societal thing. We’re mature women. We can’t compare ourselves to the airbrushed thirteen-year-olds that we see in magazines. Besides, he’s a fucking ex-hockey player. I would be surprised if he doesn’t have a few scars himself.”

Sharon was right. Besides, I had to set a good example for Hannah. I wanted her to come through adolescence with her self-esteem intact. Still, after spending all day seeing the fresh faces of my kids, with their perfect skin and bright eyes, it was a shock to look in the mirror and see my own huge pores, tiny wrinkles, and bloodshot eyes.

“Also, here’s one piece of advice my brother gave me in high school. I was freaking out over a zit or something before a big date. Marco said, ‘Shar, no guy ever noticed a flaw on a woman who was ready to fuck him.’”

I laughed. That was the truth. Brent never had an issue with my body, but he knew the story behind every scar. And he had put on weight himself. Meanwhile, Leo’s body looked flawless to me.

“Confidence never used to be an issue for me,” I said.

She patted my shoulder. “I know, kiddo. Divorce is a huge bastard when it comes to our egos. He seems nice though.”

“He’s very considerate too. He’s busy, so it’s tough to sync our schedules, but he still calls. Not too much though, like not in that every-breath-you-take way.” I shuddered. There was this one single dad from school who had asked me out, but he gave off this desperate vibe. Dear God, I wasn’t giving off that vibe, was I?

Sharon leaned forward. “Fuck, Jackie, you’re really into him. Why this guy?”

“He’s attractive,” I began. I inhaled sharply, thinking about how hot he had looked while painting, biting his lip as he concentrated on the task. “He’s really smart, passionate about life, and he has this take-charge way about him.”

“Oh. That explains it.” She packed up her lunch containers.

“Explains what?” I asked.

Sharon laughed. “You’re into bossy men.”

“I am?” Brent was certainly bossy. And not to get all weird, but my dad was bossy too. Maybe it was what I was used to.

“Yes, remember when I introduced you to my cousin, Milo? You found him too wimpy.”

Yeah, but he was also balding and boring, two facts I didn’t mention to Sharon. I decided to change the subject. “Just a month ago I was wondering if I was ever going to date again, but now I feel like there’s a future.”

“Two dates and you’re talking about a future? Ease the fuck up, Jackie. You always plunge headfirst into things. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

Get hurt again was what she really meant. But right now, experiencing anything was better than nothing. “Yeah, I know you’re right, but I’m so happy. The excitement of something new and unexpected, it feels so good.”

Sharon shook her head. “At least wait until you’ve fucked him. What if he’s dead in bed?”

I shook my head. Leo was going to be an amazing lover. He had magic fingers, an incredible body, and the sexiest way with words. “Right. I’m going to overcome my nerves and do this.”

“And when will the deed take place?”

“We’re going out again on Friday.” This weekend, when Brent had the kids, and I was completely free. I swallowed.