Chapter 90

Life continues on for a while as it ever does. Pressing forward whether you are ready for it or not.

Garnar continues to whisper poison into my daughters’ ears. I try to correct it when I can, but I can see their growing distain in their day to day interactions with me.

I try to do things with them, like make crafts or watch television. Things we would have done together in the past. Except now, they leave the room, or tell me they aren’t interested. Every time Violet sees me, she starts to cry.

In my desperation to pull my daughters out of this den of misinformation, I line up several house tours with a local realtor. She knows my needs and swears she can find a place to accommodate me and the girls.

I speak to Miles every day either through text or phone call. We haven’t seen each other again since becoming lovers, but we’ve become phone sex regulars.

Miles can be very domineering, telling me exactly where to place my fingers and how to move them. He’s been a tremendous help in getting my mind off of my troubles.

With the weekend coming up, I double check Iris and Violet don’t have anything scheduled, and I start making plans of my own. They used to love going to the park with me. I’d push them on the swings. We’d stop for ice cream and pizza, and make chalk drawings on the sidewalk.

When I mention it to the girls on Friday night, I can already tell they don’t want to.

“You like the park,” I urge.

“Is dad going?” Iris asks.

“It will just be you and me, like how it usually is,” I tell them. Have they forgotten that their father, while there for him when he could be, didn’t typically do these kinds of activities outside of the home? Unless the girls had a game or a recital, he’d stay on the couch or hide in his study.

Iris groans. She’s been particularly difficult lately. Violet usually just goes along with her big sister.

“We can’t stay in the house all the time,” I tell them. “We’ll turn into potatoes. Exercise is good for you.”

“Fine,” Iris says, like she’s making some big sacrifice. “But when we get there, Violet and I can play by ourselves. We don’t need you.”

We don’t need you.

I know she doesn’t mean it like it sounds, but it still hurts me like a knife to the heart.

Kids outgrow their parents. That’s how it works.

But not yet.

“Tomorrow, then,” I say, and walk away. In the kitchen, I open the fridge and hide my tears among the eggs and the raw vegetables, determined to never let the girls know they’ve made me cry.

This isn’t their fault. None of this is their fault.

The ride to the park is done in silence, no matter how hard I try to start conversation. Eventually, I give up. The girls look out the window while I turn up the radio.

The park is more crowded than usual and it takes me a while to find a parking spot.

“I wonder what’s going on,” I say out loud, hoping to elicit a response from the girls.

They ignore me. Hopping out of the car, they start toward the park without looking back. I hurry, grabbing a bag with water and snacks, and follow them.

There are more adults in the park than seems normal, especially with how nicely they are dressed. Then I see the photography equipment.

Then I see Miles. He’s in the baseball diamond, tossing baseballs around with the kids. Photographers take snapshots from every direction. Miles doesn’t seem to pay them any mind, however. He’s laughing and talking with the kids.

It warms my heart, seeing him like this. Miles will make a great father someday.

“Who is that?” Violet asks.

“Politician,” Iris replies.

“That’s Representative Miles Hamilton,” I tell them. “He’s running for president.” I want to impress them so I say, “I can wave. Maybe he’ll come over and say hi.”

“Yeah, right, Mom,” Iris says, rolling her eyes.

Iris nudges Violet away and they rush over to the swings. The normal crowd is over there: other kids and some parents I recognize.

Feeling a bit defeated, I turn and follow them.

“Esther!” calls a voice behind me.

No way, Miles spotted me.

“Esther, is that you?!”

Miles did spot me. He tosses a boy the baseball one last time, then excuses himself. Leaving the field, he jogs over to where I’m standing.

Iris and Violet have stopped playing. They are looking back at us with wide eyes.

“I thought that was you,” Miles says with an easy smile as he stops right in front of me. He’s a respectable distance away, but he still makes my heart race. No one but us knows that we are lovers. Somehow, that makes it all the more thrilling.

“I hope you aren’t interrupting your photo shoot, coming over to talk to me,” I say.

Miles shrugs it off. “I’m here to shake hands and play ball, whether the cameras catch me in the act or not.” That’s a very confident, Miles-like answer. “Are you here with your daughters?”

“Yes. Um. But they might not want to talk.”

“I understand.”

Turning toward the swings, I call, “Iris. Violet. Come here and meet Representative Hamilton.”

They don’t move at first, but then eventually start trudging over.

I introduce each one, and then Miles.

“Nice to meet you,” Miles says, shaking each of their hands.

“Nice… to… meet you…” They mumble, with varying levels of volume.

“Your mom and I are good friends,” Miles says. “You must be very proud of her, so strong and kind and successful.”

Violet shrugs shyly.

Iris, however, looks right at Miles’s face and says, “She’s a bitch.”

I gasp.

Miles’s freezes.

The cameras snap away.

“Iris, you shouldn’t use that language,” I say. She never has before. Kids are kids, they hear language. But where would she have learned that using it would be okay for her to do? Especially to strangers? Especially about me?

I try not to have any outward reaction, but I’m not sure how successful I am, with my heart shattered to pieces like that is.

Miles recovers first. He leans down in front of Iris and very softly, very calmly asks, “Why would you say that about your mother?”

Iris, frowning, looks down at her feet. She’s shy now, and tears are starting to well in her eyes.

“Daddy says so…”

Miles nods critically. “Mommies and Daddies sometimes have mean thoughts and opinions about each other or other people. But what do you think? Do you really think your mom is that bad word?”

Iris slowly shakes her head.

“Then why would you say that?”

“I’m mad…” Iris says, voice soft as a whisper.

“It’s okay to be mad,” Miles says. “But what did your mom do that’s making you so mad?”

“She’s leaving us…” Iris finally admits, and then the waterworks start. Violet beats her to it, breaking out into a sob.

I’m a close second, a sob escaping my own throat. I want to reach out and hug their pain away, but I hold myself back, unsure if it’d even be welcome.

Miles places his hand on the top of Iris’s head. “Want to know a secret?” he asks. “I know for a fact that your mom loves you very much.”

“She doesn’t,” Iris says, and that’s too much for me. I move in to hold her, but she backs away. Violet curls into me, but Iris maintains distant.

Voice cracking, she shouts, “If you loved us, you wouldn’t leave Dad!”