AS BEST WE COULD, THOMAS and I did right by the girls in way of explanation and reassurance.
He’d called this evening after he put a deposit down on an apartment near his office. We agreed once that was done, we’d all go to dinner as a broken but healing family.
While Thomas and I explained the change that would be coming, there was no resentment toward the other. No cold shoulders to conceal. No bitterness to hide. Nothing that used to be.
Amelia, being sensitive and more susceptible to hurt, was surprisingly in agreement. She didn’t speak to her father, or me, but made general statements indicating she understood this was for the best.
Averie’s reaction was a surprise. Once Thomas spoke for us both, summarizing all that needed said, our youngest daughter stood from her seat. She was silent as she traded glances between her father and me. When we’d finished, tears sprang to her eyes. In a semi-crowded restaurant, she rounded the table with hurried steps into her father’s awaiting arms.
It was then I knew we were going to be okay. And I let a few tears fall.
“So, Dad’s apartment place has a pool?” Averie questions, sitting at the kitchen table with her sister at her side.
Averie’s eyes are still red, the remnants of her tears still visible. But other than a quick burst of tears on the way home, she seemed back to her old self.
Amelia appears stoic, maybe in disbelief.
“And he said it has a gym?” she questions further. “With a tanning bed?”
“Yes, to all,” I reply, setting down the glass of water Amelia requested and chocolate milk Averie had. “But you’re not tanning.”
“Dad didn’t look sad,” Averie notes, changing subject. “I mean, he looked sad, but he didn’t look sad.”
“Your father and I love you both very much.”
“You don’t look sad either. Are you?”
“Yes, honey,” I assure. “But now that Dad and I see you’re both okay, then he and I will be okay.”
“But I don’t really understand. You and Dad said you still love each other, but you’re getting a divorce.”
“For the tenth time, Averie…” Amelia affirms. “They love each other because of us. They aren’t in love.”
Amelia understood what was discussed this evening. I’m grateful she listened, even though at times during dinner it appeared she had stopped.
“So?” Averie counters. “There’s a girl in my class and she says her parents have separate rooms.”
“Mom,” Amelia huffs. “I have homework. Can I go to my room?”
Nodding, I reach over the table to grab the top of her hand. Amelia flips hers, palm up, to take mine.
“If this was because I said what I said at Grandpa’s…” she starts, tears welling in her eyes. “School sucked. The other girls…”
“Are those witches still being snarly Smurfs?” Averie stresses, her tone as lethal as I’ve ever heard. “’Cause we can take ‘em down,” she swears.
Amelia smiles. Her first in many days. She shakes her head, releases my hand, and stands.
As she scoots in her chair, she looks to her sister and says, “I’m good now. But thanks. Good to know you’re ready to throw down.”
Averie, being as rambunctious as she can be, flexes her arms about her head. “You got the brains, I got the brawn.”
“I’ll be here,” I tell Amelia, trying not to laugh at Averie. I don’t want this moment jaded in false humor. “If you need me.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m okay,” she assures.
As Amelia walks away, Averie stares after her. “She’s being nice to me,” she murmurs. “It’s kind of scary.”
Standing myself, I grab Amelia’s empty glass. “Give her time, honey. She’ll be back to herself soon.”
“Mom?” Averie calls and I turn. Her expression has lost its luster, her jovial play gone.
“Averie?”
“Does this mean you and Dad are going to start dating other people?”
“What?”
“Jordan’s mom is online,” she tells me, “like a lot.”
“I don’t think—”
“And she’s gone all the time.”
“Averie,” I try.
“I’m not sayin’ online dating is the way to go, but I bet you could get a lotta guys that way.”
Oh, my daughter.
“Have you finished your homework?”
Averie scrunches her nose but stands. With nothing for it, she smiles. “I bet Cole has an online dating profile.”
Shit.
“Homework,” I assert.
“Just sayin’. Bet he does.”
“Averie Marie, not now.”
“Bet Mr. Hensen from school has one too. And, Mom, I know he’s our teacher, but all the girls talk about him.”
Oh, dear God. Please, someone make her stop talking.
As she comes to my side, she smiles wide and hands me her glass.
“I’ll see what I can do for you first. Dad’s up next.”
Christ. I was so worried the girls wouldn’t handle the news of the divorce as easily as they did.
My concern has shifted to now wondering how much time will be spent with the girls worrying about their parents being alone.
“Love you, Mom,” she utters, walking out of the kitchen.
Whispering to the window as I look out to our backyard, I answer back, “I love you so much more.”