Chapter 3

Old Military Friend: What state do you live in?

Coke: Constant Misery

Coke

There are times when I can handle my ex-wife and then there are those times that I can’t.

The times that I can’t, unfortunately, outnumber the times that I can by about ten to one. The times that I can are usually when I’ve been drinking.

This time, when she spotted me eating by myself, I knew that I wasn’t going to get out of this altercation unscathed.

Beatrice was still extremely pissed that I’d ‘allowed’ our daughter to ‘ruin her life.’ And by ‘ruin her life,’ she meant letting our daughter go to college. I wasn’t under the impression that I’d had a choice in the matter. My child was seventeen. She’d graduated high school. The next logical step for her after high school was college. Sure, I would’ve loved for her to go to a college closer to home, but the school that she was attending had an excellent academic program in the area that she wished to study. Who the hell was I to tell her no?

My girl had a good head on her shoulders. I knew that she’d do well at school.

What I didn’t understand was why the hell my ex-wife fucking cared.

Normally she wouldn’t give a shit, but at this point, she argued with me just for the sake of arguing.

Well that, and she hated me.

Yeah, I’m not sure about that one since I’m such a likable guy.

“Well hello, Coke,” Beatrice said, finally arriving at the side of my table.

I took a bite of my taco and refused to answer.

“I notice that you’re not doing anything,” she said, sounding irritated. “Funny, but if you’re not busy, normally one answers a call. Why is it that you can’t do that? Or return one?”

I took another bite of my taco.

This bite was bigger.

If I finished it fast enough, maybe I could take this outside so the whole goddamn town didn’t hear what Beatrice had to say.

Unfortunately, Beatrice was in fine form today, and experience told me that meant she wouldn’t give one single fuck who she aired our dirty laundry in front of.

The bells on the door sounded, and I looked up in time to see my new neighbor come in.

My heartbeat picked up at the sight.

Beatrice stepped into my line of sight, and I swallowed down a growl at the interruption.

Last night had felt like a lifetime ago after the day that I’d had, so seeing her, confirming that she was actually as beautiful as I’d remembered, was something that was pretty important to me.

So instead of looking around Beatrice, I got up from my chair, picked up my tray, and walked to the trash can that was directly next to the front counter.

Once I’d thrown my things away, I filled up my cup with sweet tea while surreptitiously checking out my neighbor.

She was completely oblivious to everyone and everything going on around her.

She was staring up at the menu hanging up over the counter, a small smile kicking up the corner of her face.

The owner of the Taco Shop liked to make it fun, so all of her menu items were named after her favorite movie characters. The one I’d eaten was called the ‘MacGyver.’

The only reason I got it was because that was my middle name, and I thought it was funny.

Color me surprised when she ordered it, too.

“I think I’ll try the MacGyver,” I heard her say.

“Coke, we’re having this discussion whether you want to have it or not,” Beatrice said, popping up at my side like an STD that just kept coming back regardless of what I did to get rid of it.

Then my mouth kicked up at the idea of enlightening her on what I had been comparing her to in my thoughts. She’d have a coronary.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “But I’m late for work. I was supposed to be back so that June could head to her doctor’s appointment.”

With that, I left, despite the fact that my neighbor’s anger-lit blue eyes were on me.

Unfortunately, the click of heels that followed me outside didn’t belong to her. They belonged to my ex.

I made a groaning noise in my throat and kept walking, speeding up slightly once I’d gotten outside.

“Shit!”

I didn’t bother looking back. To do that would be to admit defeat, and I sure as fuck wasn’t letting that happen—at least not when it came to her.

Now, if my cute little neighbor had been the one behind me…

“Coke, I swear to God!” Beatrice cried out in frustration. “If you don’t stop, I’ll make this a lot worse than it needs to be!”

When had she ever made anything easy?

That’s right, never.

My ex-wife was a raging bitch, and not a moment went by when she wasn’t trying to make things worse for me if she could manage it.

Our marriage had definitely been one of those things that I’d never wish on my worst enemy.

Beatrice was selfish, conceited, and quite possibly insane.

At this point in my life, I wasn’t even sure that she was human.

I arrived at my bike and straddled it.

The moment that it was started, I revved it up and started to roll backward out of the parking spot I’d pulled it into not even an hour before.

Before I could complete the maneuver, Beatrice was there, her eyes narrowed and her face flushed with anger.

I sighed, knowing that she wouldn’t move, and I considered riding straight through the Taco Shop’s flower beds.

But, sadly, I just wasn’t that type of person.

Instead of fleeing like I’d wanted, I turned the bike off and waited for it.

It didn’t take long.

“I want to know how the hell you could do something like this!” Beatrice cried. “How could you do this to us?”

I rolled my eyes and looked through the front window of the Taco Shop, wondering if they could hear what Beatrice was screaming.

My luck, they probably could since Beatrice had this shrill, annoying voice that hit all the wrong notes.

I’d had my fair share of headaches and migraines thanks to that woman.

“Beatrice,” I groaned. “We’ve been over this. I know that we have. So, you need to listen to this, because this is the last time I’m going to explain it. Frankie isn’t—”

I was interrupted when Beatrice hissed, “Francesca!”

Rolling my eyes, I continued. “Frankie isn’t gone. She’s away at college. And if she’s not answering your calls, that’s likely because you embarrassed the shit out of her the last time she was with you—which you know damn well and good since she told you that you did. If you’re still not able to get a hold of her, maybe you should try being nice to her instead of leaving her a voicemail telling her how disappointed you are in her.”

The novelty of this was lost on my ex-wife.

I could tell just by the anger simmering in her eyes.

“I call, and she should answer. There is no other option. I’m the mother, and she’s the child. That’s just the way it is,” Beatrice replied stubbornly.

I sighed and wondered how much more of this I would have to deal with.

I’d divorced her because she drove me goddamn nuts.

Though, if I were being honest, if it hadn’t been for my daughter asking me ‘why I was still with her mother,’ I would’ve probably still been there dealing with it.

I didn’t like to make waves. I’d had enough of that during my DS—drill sergeant—days. I wanted to live my life. I wanted to work. I wanted to come home, and I wanted to repeat the process.

About two years into our marriage, I’d become so disillusioned to the idea of ever being happy with Beatrice that I was in a constant state of depression. Honestly, the only reason I found even the slightest bit of satisfaction during that relationship was due to the fact that I wasn’t actually home all that much.

Which also kind of sucked because that meant that Frankie was with her.

Luckily, Frankie had her grandfather—Beatrice’s dad. My only remaining parent—my mom—passed away about a year into our marriage due to a car crash.

But, Frankie’s grandfather was great with her, and when she wasn’t with me, she was with him.

When Frankie had flat out asked me why I never left her mother, I didn’t have a good answer for her.

Sure, I guess I could’ve said that I wanted to make it work for her sake but that would’ve been a lie.

I really had no clue why I’d stayed for as long as I did.

Not one single person blamed me for divorcing her—at least not anyone who mattered.

“Are you even listening to me?” Beatrice snapped.

“No,” I admitted. “I’m fucking busy, and I don’t know why we have to have this conversation at all. I’ve said what I wanted to say during the phone call you forced me to endure yesterday. I hoped that once you got all of that off your chest, you’d leave me the fuck alone and allow me to live my life.”

I wished it were possible to get a restraining order against the damn woman. I’d even looked into it with Tyler Cree, the chief of police. However, he’d informed me that I couldn’t get a restraining order against someone that I didn’t like. Apparently, that just wasn’t how they worked. I needed to have a legitimate excuse for one to be granted. He gave me some examples, you know like death threats, sexual assault or stalking.

And unfortunately, a nagging ex-wife that you hated wasn’t one of the things that would warrant a restraining order.

Bummer.

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” Beatrice hissed. “This is about our daughter!”

I’d had enough.

The stupid flower beds were about to be run over. I had no choice.

I started the bike and was just about to take the begonias out when my neighbor headed out the door looking like she was on a mission.

She headed straight for Beatrice and then tapped her on her shoulder. Beatrice shifted just enough to allow me to get by.

Over Beatrice’s head, I saw the neighbor give me a short chin tilt, indicating that I should leave while she had her occupied. With relief, I did. My father taught me to never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I left, and only once did I look back.

And let’s just say, it wasn’t because I wanted to get a long, lingering look at my ex-wife.

 

***

Cora

I don’t know what made me do it.

Maybe it was the look on his face after he’d spoken to his ex-wife in the Taco Shop. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been eating dinner by himself. Whatever the reason, I found myself drawing him something that would hopefully make him smile.

I had no idea, however, that he’d frame it and hang it up in his office.