The Fling

67

I held it together until I got back to my place, but within seconds of closing the front door, I burst into tears. Clutching her gift, I walked into my living room and approached my Christmas tree. I took the delicate ornament from the packaging and held it up so that it caught the light streaming through my window. Then I hung it on the most prominent branch as hot tears streamed down my face, soaking my beard. This pretty palm tree symbolized my relationship with Abigail, and for a split second, I considered yanking it off and throwing it into my fireplace so that it would be broken, just like I felt we were.

"We can work through this," I said out loud. "There's always a solution. There has to be."

Plopping down on the couch, I ran through what had happened on our hike. Things had been going great, and I felt bolstered when she said she was giving Bert a timeline for moving out. That plan meant that he'd be gone soon and our life could return to normal.

But then he called and I overreacted.

I knew in the moment that I was making too big a deal out of it, but I couldn't stop myself. That fucker made me see red. In the heat of the moment, I told Abigail how I felt, and as I vented, it suddenly became clear to me that my hatred stemmed from much more than how he was temporarily inconveniencing us. I hated him for having everything I wanted, and the thing that bothered me the most was that he got to create a family with her. I wanted what he'd walked away from, and it was impossible for me to ever have that since she didn't want another child.

Of course, Abigail figured out how I felt and I could tell by the sad look on her face that this realization was painful. It wasn't her fault that her life played out this way. It wasn't even Bert's fault. You could even say I owed him gratitude for cheating on her, because that opened the door for me. Except it wasn't wide open; it was merely cracked. I could only get a glimpse of the perfect life she'd given him, while being forced to settle for being on the outside without having it all myself.

If we married, I'd never get to share in the joy of creating a child together. I closed my eyes and pictured him stroking her huge pregnant belly, a feeling I'd never experience. He'd obviously been there when she delivered both Hannah and Bertie and probably held them before anyone else. I couldn't fully imagine how amazing that was, but I yearned for it. I could be the best stepdad in the world to her children, but he'd always be their father. He'd been there from the start and would be around for many decades to come.

Getting up, I went to the bathroom to blow my nose before heading into the kitchen for a glass of water. I downed it all at once and spied the wooden box that held over a dozen pre-rolled joints. I grabbed one and lit up, hoping the THC would take the edge off a little and allow my mind to relax. I was a couple puffs in when my phone vibrated in the pocket of my blue linen pants.

"Please be Abigail," I whispered as I pulled it out. It was not her, though I was glad to see that it was my mum on FaceTime. "Hi," I said, immediately choking up again.

"Are you alright?" her brow furrowed with concern.

"No. Not really. Things are not going well with Abigail."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I nodded, and then something occurred to me. "I'd rather do it in person. Let me see if I can get on an earlier flight home." I'd planned my itinerary so that I could spend time with my girlfriend and her children before Christmas, but now that didn't matter. More than anything, I wanted to be in Pickering with my family.

"We'd love to have you home sooner, but you're worrying me. Did you two split up?"

"No, but we're on a break so I can work through some things, like if I can accept not having a child."