Why It's Called a Goodbye Read online

  I had hoped there would be another message from Malcom when I got out of the shower, but there isn’t.

  Me: We need to talk in person about a few things.

  Malcom: I was thinking the same thing.

  What does that even mean? I know he can’t be thinking what I’m thinking.

  Malcom: Good night.

  Me: You finally decide to drop Sugar Tits?

  Malcom: Nah, you’re still my Sugar Tits.

  Me: Good night, Malcom.

  He feels like we need to talk too, and he referred to me as his.

  FIFTEEN

  I’ve had the house to myself today. The boys are at school, and Mom and Pops are at the store. I’m trying to finish this dumb book. I want to turn it in so I never have to look at it again. My hometown skeptics have weighed in on my writing in The Hive and not everyone is a fan. I figured they wouldn’t be. One person ripped my article apart saying that a fifth grader could have written something with better grammar. They spelt anonymous wrong for someone who pretends to be the grammar police.

  The boys are staying over at a friend’s tonight. Stephen wasn’t happy when I told him he’d have to pick them up tomorrow instead of tonight. He acted as if I was ruining his plans. Atticus and Sawyer are old enough to decide what they want to do and that’s what they want to do. He must have forgotten how he slipped out on them last weekend.

  We have our second mediation coming up after Halloween, and if we cannot come to an agreement, then we will be going to court. I just want this over with. I’m never getting married again, no matter how in love I am with a guy. They can take their ring and shove it; they always have females. Even Malcom, who is a good person at heart, still has been playing multiple women. It’s just not right. I can barely keep up with everything else in my life, plus one guy, let alone multiple.

  At this point, I have enough drama going on, so I don’t even know if I want to deal with Malcom and his too. I made a mistake by sleeping with him. Why had I been so careless? He already told me before he doesn’t have the time for women and that’s why he doesn’t date.

  I’m going to message him.

  Me: So, how many females do you flirt with every day?

  I know he’s at work, but I don’t care. I need to know.

  Malcom: Usually 2 or 3

  Why did I think he only talked to me? He never said he was only talking to me. I knew he had others. I hate this.

  Me: I don’t want to be one of them. I don’t want to be one of your females. And I’m not going to beg for your attention.

  Malcom: Okay. And you aren’t. Can we talk about this later? I’m supposed to be teaching history.

  Me: Why are you answering then?

  Malcom: Because you seemed upset. Meet me at my place at 4. I have to take Elsie to Angie’s when I get off.

  Me: Okay.

  I arrive late to his place. I hadn’t planned on coming at all, but I’m so in my head right now that I don’t know what to do. I tried calling Dr. Feldman’s office, but her receptionist said she was busy, but she’d see if she’d give me a call back. I picked up the anxiety medication on my way to his place. I haven’t taken any though. For whatever reason, having them in my purse makes me feel a lot better.

  I walk up his steps and the door opens before I knock. He smiles as I walk under his arm. He’s barefoot, wearing dark gray sweatpants, and a blue shirt.

  The scent of food passes my nostrils. “It smells wonderful in here. What are you cooking?”

  “A little recipe I’ve decided to call Don’t Be Mad at Me.”

  I laugh, and then he laughs as I follow him into the kitchen and take a seat at the bar. “What all is in Don’t Be Mad at Me, and then I’ll let you know if I’m mad or not.”

  “It’s nothing fancy. It’s fried pork chops.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I don’t eat pork, for religious reasons, of course.”

  He looks terrified. “Huh?”

  “Just kidding, but we do need to talk. The boys said there was some woman at the game, and I know I have no right to ask you to not speak to other women. I know I’m married. Honestly, I don’t care if you talk to women, I just don’t want you flirting with, talking to, or doing other things with your females. If you plan on doing them with me.”

  “Got it.”

  “That’s all you’re going to say?” I should leave.

  “I haven’t talked to any of my females since the night we hooked up. You don’t seem like the kind of girl that would be okay with that.”

  “Oh, but you said you flirted with two to three females a day…” Maybe he isn’t as bad as I’ve made him seem in my head.

  “Yeah, I thought you were referring to before you, and the chick is the one I told you about who was getting attached. I had been ignoring her which I now know wasn’t a good idea. I’m still trying to figure out how she knew where I lived and where I’d be. I always went to her… Anyway, I fixed that.”

  “How are you so sure?”

  “I told her I was seeing someone and that if she showed up again, I’d call the cops.”

  “Seeing someone?”

  He shrugs as he places our plates on the table. “I just said it so she’d stop.”

  I sit down and sigh, “Oh.”

  “Don’t sound so upset. You’re married, remember. You can’t be mine, but don’t worry, I’m not seeing anyone else.” He takes the seat next to me and watches as I take a bite.

  I swallow. “This is good. Are you sure I don’t have any other females to worry about?” I sound like a broken record.

  “Yeah, I had kinda stopped talking to most of them already. I want to find someone to grow old with. Someone who has a good personality, a big heart and knows Elsie comes first.”

  “You know I wouldn’t stop talking to you if you wanted to keep talking to your females. I’d still be your friend if that’s all you wanted.”

  “I was hoping you weren’t just using me.”

  “I’m not.”

  We stop talking and eat. I hope he isn’t using me either and that I haven’t been too intrusive. Can he be the right guy for me when he’s been single for so long? He never seems to mention Elsie’s mom. He doesn’t seem to normally like to talk about his life, but he is tonight.

  When we're finished, we go out on the porch and sit on a bench. I hadn’t noticed him picking up a blanket on the way out, but he lays one across our laps and wraps his left arm around my shoulders. I snuggle into his side.

  “What if you never find her?”

  He turns his head to face me. “Who?”

  “Someone to grow old with.”

  “I’ll still have Elsie.”

  “That’s how I feel too. I’ll always have the boys, but they're growing up and will have their own life soon and I don’t think I’m built to be alone. Some people just make it. I don’t think I can. I think I’m a dependent person. I think I’ll always need someone. My therapist and I talked about that at our last meeting. That I’m codependent on the people around me.”

  “I hope it helps, the therapy.” He shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. “Becca’s a therapist, and she’s bat shit crazy.”

  He’s never used a girl’s name before. Maybe it’s Elsie’s mom’s name. “Becca?” I ask.

  “The chick that was getting attached… we were just talking about her.”

  I stand and the blanket falls to our feet. “Malcom.” I begin to shake my head and pace across the wooden boards. It can’t be the same person. She isn’t even from around here. “No. No, no, no, no. You’ve got to be kidding me. Becca, as in Rebecca Feldman?”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. Shit. I have so many questions. How did she not know where you live? Everyone knows where you live.”

  “I always went to her. We met on a dating app. I don’t know, but for someone with a degree like that, you’d think she would have been a lot more civil. I never told her we were anything more than we were. I never introduce
d her to Elsie. I never even told her I had a kid because on her profile it said she didn’t have any, and most women without them at her age don’t want to be with someone who has them.”

  “How often did you see her before you began ignoring her?”

  “Once or twice a month for about two years, but I stopped about six months ago with her. I’m guessing you talked about me at your session?”

  “Only briefly. I’m sorry. It wasn’t anything negative.”

  “I’m not upset. I’m just sorry you’re gonna have to find a new therapist.”

  I kid, “Have you bagged any other ones before I go looking for a new one?”

  “Only one, that I’m aware of. I’m actually pretty picky. I haven’t been with that many women. Probably less than you think.”

  I sit back down next to him and pull the blanket back over us. “I’m way less experienced than you.”

  He places his hand on my leg under the blanket and squeezes my thigh. “We can remedy that situation.”

  I’m wearing a thin pair of leggings, and I have this weird thought of how erotic it would be if he tore a hole in them and took me out here on the porch again.

  I don’t say anything as his hand moves up my thigh, closer and closer to the waistline of my leggings. A thought occurs to me as his fingertip dips under the fabric touching my skin. “How come you never let her come here?”

  “If I answer, can we stop talking about her for a while? I want it to be,” he kisses my right cheek, “just you,” then my left, “and me.”

  I sigh and suddenly I don’t care why she has never been here. I close my eyes and say, “Keep kissing me, please.”

  He stands and picks me up as if I weigh nothing and carries me back into the house. He lays me on the couch. “I’ve been wanting to take you on this since the night I had to leave and pick Elsie up.”

  His hands are all over my body, rubbing and kneading me like a small kitten. Under his touch, I melt like a popsicle on the Fourth of July. I forget all about why I was upset, and now I have this urgency to have his face between my thighs.

  He sits up and removes his shirt. I pull mine over my head and lay back on the pillow. Malcom buries his head between my breasts as his hand slips around the back to unfasten my bra. I move my arms to help as he slips the straps down my shoulders, and it falls to the floor.

  He holds most of his weight on his right arm as his left hand slips down to my hot spot. His lips move to my right breast. As he sucks, he moves his fingers in a circular motion, and my hips buck. I use my right hand to slip under his sweatpants and find that he isn’t wearing any underwear. Which turns me on even more.

  I move my hand up and down his length, paying special attention to the tip. He moans against my breasts every time my hand glides up and over the head. I pump him as he makes circles on me. Then he slides a finger inside, using his palm to rub my sensitive flesh.

  I begin to rise, and his moans are getting closer together. I rock my hips until I find my release. He lifts his head and smiles down at me. And even though I want to roll over and lay here until my high wears off, I begin to pump him faster, keeping a soft grip around his erection. I watch as he closes his eyes and the muscles in his legs clench while his head falls back. He moans louder and bites his lip as he climaxes in his sweatpants.

  SIXTEEN

  Two Weeks Later

  I haven’t found a new therapist yet, but I think I’m coping fine now, and I’m not as worried about it as I was before. Malcom said that Becca (as he calls her) hasn’t made any new appearances. I’m still not sure he’s seen the last of her.

  He agreed to not have sex with anyone else while he’s having sex with me. That’s all I can really ask for. I told him if he finds someone else to let me know before he makes a move. He can’t really be mine until the divorce is final, and I’d hate for him to miss out on something with someone else if that’s what he really wants.

  Stephen and I have our last mediation meeting the day after tomorrow. I hope we can come to an agreement, but Inez told me to not plan on that. That his lawyer has been pretty mute since the last meeting, and she thinks they are withholding some sort of information they plan to spring on us.

  Malcom has really been a great sport about it all. I’m terrified he’s going to find someone else before I can truly commit to him. I want him to be happy. I may not be the one for him, no matter how much I hope to be.

  Malcom asked earlier in the week what I was doing for Halloween tonight. I told him I’d be passing out candy since the boys are too old to trick or treat. Apparently, my parents’ neighborhood is the one with the good candy, and he said that I might see him and Elsie. I’ve never met her before. He told me that he’s never introduced a girl to her, and I know passing out candy isn’t really meeting her, but it feels like he’s letting me in.

  When we were talking about his females and how he’s not dated, he said that he only ever took Elsie around one of them, once. He had met her at a park, and he said Elsie was so little she doesn’t even remember.

  We talked about what it was like for him to have girls but never date them. I asked how he got them to all agree to that because I would never be okay with knowing he was with others while we were too. He said none of them knew about each other. They were all from different towns, or they didn’t like each other and never talked to one another. I don’t think what he was doing was right, but they were consenting adults.

  He said he was reluctant to get messed up with me. And even though it isn’t easy, he likes me. Evidently, he had a female who was in a relationship. They hooked up several times over the last five years, and then she began ignoring him and no longer talks to him. I’m guessing she began to feel guilty or maybe she found a new boy toy. I just let him talk and didn’t ask too many questions. I’m not sure if he realizes this chick did the same thing to him that he did to Rebecca.

  Malcom reassured me he was no longer talking to any of the girls and even offered to let me look at his phone after I told him that’s how I found out Stephen had been cheating. I told him I didn’t want to be that person and I believe him.

  He hasn’t given much up about Elsie’s mom, but I can tell she’s the one who messed him up. Why else would he have sworn off relationships? He said he doesn’t let himself get attached anymore. Your heart cannot be broken that way. If you never let anyone in, it stays whole.

  I did some digging because I was curious about Elsie’s mom. I reactivated one of my social media accounts long enough to look at Malcom’s page. He must not use it very often because there weren’t many recent posts. I scrolled through his pictures and there was the same photograph from Elsie’s nightstand. The caption read, “Elsie, Mommy, and Daddy” and had a Roxi Marie tagged. Before I clicked on her profile, I looked at the rest of his pictures and there was one of him by a Christmas tree down on one knee with a ring box and a shocked Roxi. He never mentioned being married or divorced.

  It was too much, and I deactivated my account again before I read the thirty-six unread messages in my inbox.

  The boys refuse to pass out candy with me. I bought a witch’s hat earlier and made a wart on my face with a green eyeliner pencil. I’m dressed all in black and sitting on a chair under the porch light. Mom and Pops are on the porch swing. It’s not quite dark yet, but they have trick or treat so early now it’s over as the sun is setting.

  Tonight, so far, I’ve seen several princesses, Supermans, Spidermans, pop singers, and even one prince. I notice Malcom before he gets to our house. He isn’t dressed up or anything, but he towers over the others on the sidewalk. There’s a little vampire by his side with fake blood dripping out of the side of her mouth, and she reminds me of Kristen Dunst in Interview with the Vampire.

  Even under the makeup, she looks a lot like her mom but a lot like Malcom as well. I smile up at him as I reach out a handful of candy to her pumpkin shaped bucket. “What do we have here?” I ask her.

  “I want to suck your blood,”
she says and opens her mouth wide.

  I clutch my empty hand to my chest and say, “Oh no, anything but that. I don’t want to be a vampire.”

  She giggles. “Don’t worry, I only turn those who want to be turned.” Then turns around and skips back down the sidewalk.

  Malcom says, “I’ll call you later.” Then winks before shoving his hands in his pockets and follows behind her.

  The mediation didn’t go as planned. Stephen had apparently found out about Malcom, although I’m not sure how because I’ve never told the boys anything. Stephen wouldn’t say how he knew either.

  His lawyer is now requesting to see my bank statements since Stephen began paying child support. He can tear through them all he wants. I haven’t used a penny of that money on Malcom. We left the meeting further behind in progress.

  “I just want this to be over already,” I whine to Inez while I drop down on her couch.

  “I know, and it will be. Sometimes it takes time.”

  “I just don’t understand why he cares about Malcom when he cheated on me first.”

  She sits down next to me. “Can’t you see it? If he can’t have you, he doesn’t want anyone else to either.”

  “Well, he should have thought about that before he cheated, and even before that, he never paid me much attention.”

  Inez demands, “Blow that shit off! You’ll have your divorce in the end despite the hoops he’s making you jump through.”

  “I know. What are you getting into tonight?” The boys left with Stephen for the weekend, and I turned in The Christmas Farm.

  “I have a thing in the city tonight. I’m sorry.” She looks at the watch on her wrist. “I really should be going. You can stay here if you like.”

  “No, no. I might get a jump on Christmas shopping.”

  I leave Inez’s and head to one of the few local stores that sell nicer things.

  As I walk up and down the rows of candles, wax melts and Tervis tumblers, I realize there is nothing in here for the boys. I begin looking through the clothing, but I don’t really need any new clothes. A lemon catches my eye, and I remember Mom talking about how she really wanted to redo her kitchen in lemons. I buy every lemon kitchen decoration they have with Stephen’s money.