Dana awoke with a start.
It was still dark outside, but soon the darkness would fade with the approaching daylight. She listened to Alex breathing next to her. His back was warm and solid against hers.
She stared up at the shadowy ceiling. What the hell had she done?
But she knew very well what she’d done. She’d allowed her ex-husband to spend the evening with her and their daughter, Becky; and she’d allowed him back into her bed afterwards. And from the moment he took her in his arms, all the bad feelings and bitterness between them might never have happened.
He’d been attentive, tender. Just like he’d been in the beginning, when they were young and so much in love that they couldn’t get enough of each other. What they had, Dana used to think smugly, was the real thing. It was forever.
Until it wasn’t.
At first he’d call to say he was working late, don’t bother to keep his dinner warm. Don’t wait up. But of course she did. She waited up for him, and kept his dinner in the oven, a dishtowel neatly tucked around the plate so his mashed potatoes or sliced beef wouldn’t dry out. God, what a gullible idiot she’d been.
She realized he was cheating on her when she started to find things – odd things – in his pockets. Things like a matchbook (he didn’t smoke) or a cocktail napkin with a number scrawled on it. He always had a plausible excuse; he’d given John a ride home, and you know John, he smoked like crazy. He always left matchbooks and Marlboros in Alex’s car.
The cocktail napkin with the number on it? Oh, that was the number for a plumber the bartender at Proof had recommended. There was a leak in the downstairs toilet he needed to fix. And the earring? He’d found it at work, must’ve picked it up and put it in his pocket without thinking. You know how distracted he got when he was in the middle of a case…
And she’d believed him – at first. Until she didn’t.
Until the lies and the excuses and the late nights started to pile up into a great big ball of implausibility. Until she decided to borrow Alex’s phone and call the number scrawled on one of those cocktail napkins, and a woman answered… a woman who said, “Alex! What a surprise. I thought you said you couldn’t get away tonight.”
Dana confronted him, and he denied it. She cried and raged and threw things and told him to get out, and finally Alex admitted there was a woman at work, but it was just a fling, and it was over. He was sorry. God, babe, so sorry…
Dana roughly nudged her sleeping ex-husband. “Get up,” she hissed. “You have to leave, Alex. You can’t be here when Becky wakes up.”
“Wha-?” He mumbled something and rolled onto his back, blinking. “What do you mean? It’s still dark outside! And I promised Bex I’d make us breakfast-”
“I don’t want her to find you here! She’ll think we’re back together. She’ll get her hopes up. I won’t disappoint her.”
“But, Dana… I really do want to make this work again. What do you think last night was?” He sat up. “A meaningless fling?”
“Why not? You’re a pro at meaningless flings.”
He flung back the covers and stood up. “All right, I’ll go in the guest room and stay there until morning. Then I’ll make us breakfast. Okay?”
Dana glared at him. “Listen to me, Alex. You can lie to me, cheat on me, whatever – I’m immune to it. But don’t you dare hurt Becky, do you hear me? Don’t give her false hope when we both know there is none.”
“How can you say that? I’d never hurt Becky. I thought we connected again last night.” He scowled and stalked to the door. “I guess I was wrong.”
Classic Alex, always making her feel like she was the bad guy.
Later, as they ate pancakes and sausage and laughed at Alex’s corny jokes, Dana wondered if maybe she’d been too hard on him. Maybe he really had changed. Look at him, with flour on his cheek and a “Kiss the Cook” apron tied at his waist… he was still handsome; he was still in great shape.
No, she decided as she stood up, she refused to buy into the fantasy this time.
When breakfast was finished Becky went back upstairs, and Dana helped Alex wash up. They worked together in silence until the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher and the table was cleared.
Alex’s cell phone rang. He threw the dish towel over his shoulder and glanced at the screen. “Sorry, babe, I have to take this,” he murmured, “it’s work,” and he disappeared into the den.
She heard the rise and fall of his voice, his laugh. The sound was low and intimate.
Dana paused, her hand tightening around the bottle of maple syrup, and strained to listen. “-see you this evening, okay? Yeah. Pick you up at seven. Dress sexy.”
It was his new girlfriend, she realized, the one he’d ditched on Friday night to be with his family. And now here he was, making plans with her over the phone for tonight.
“You bastard,” she hissed as he returned to the kitchen. “Work, my ass! That was her, wasn’t it? That was your girlfriend.”
“So what if it was? We’re divorced, Dana, after all; what’s the big deal?”
“The big deal,” she snapped, “is that you told me you wanted to try and make this work again. Make us work again. And five minutes later you’re making plans with your hootchie du jour, right here in our house! In my house,” she added. “Go and tell Becky goodbye. Then get your stuff and go.”
“You can’t be serious! Dana, you’re overreacting-”
“Where’s dad going?” Becky demanded as she thundered down the stairs, alerted by their raised voices. She cast an accusing glare at her mother. “Why are you making him leave?”
“I’m not,” Dana said tightly. “He has somewhere else to be.”
“No, he doesn’t. Why do you always ruin everything, mom? Why are you always such a bitch? God, I hate you!”
And with a choked, angry sob Becky fled back upstairs and slammed her door.
“Well, thanks for that, Alex. ” Dana brushed past him, furious. “Happy now?”
“What’d I do? It’s not my fault if you don’t get along with Bex-”
She stalked to the front door and swung it open. “Goodbye, Alex.”
“Dana, c’mon-”
“Goodbye, Alex,” she said again. She waited until he brushed past her and left, and then she closed the door…
…this time, she told herself firmly, for good.
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