To the Beach and Back

Chapter 26

There are two people waiting on Ryan's front porch when we return and for a second, seeing them takes me back to an alternate universe, a world where we are still a family.

It was a nice world, one I will always appreciate.

And now, they're here. Nick and Wesley.

They came.

As our driver stops in the parking lot and I step out of his Buick, I realize that the future of our fractured family depends on this moment. They have each set aside the drama and differences to be here for Sadie and while I no longer will tolerate disrespect from Wesley or manipulation from Nick, I simply don't have the energy to be bitter.

I no longer want to fight.

I no longer want to be angry about the divorce and the choices that my grown son has made. I simply want to live my life in happiness and peace and if they'd like to be a part of that world, in some form or fashion, than fabulous. They are more than welcome.

As long as we stop hurting each other with our shit.

So with each step toward the porch, I forget about the past. I forget about the harsh words ... the ones I said and the ones spoken to me. My shoulders lift and my heart lightens as the anger and past pain sheds from my skin like drops of saltwater, my anxiety and dread being replaced with peace and contentment.

I'm happy to see them.

Truly and deeply.

The smile on my face shows this every emotion as I greet them each with hugs, ignoring the shocked look on their own faces as I say, "Hey, guys! You made it! Sadie is going to be so happy!"

Spencer shuffles from behind me, awkwardly looking toward his empty home and back, clearly not knowing what to say. I reach back and take a hold of his elbow, pulling him toward the porch.

"Oh, and this is my friend, Spencer! He's a real estate agent and avid cyclist." I turn to Spencer. "Spencer, this is my ex-husband, Nick, and my son, Wesley!"

Spencer, thank goodness, picks up on my cues, shaking hands with Nick and Wesley.

Nick, however, isn't as courteous.

"What's the deal, Marcie," he asks, his voice seeping with annoyance. "You knew we were coming, but you were out drinking with strangers?"

Huh?

How did Nick know where I was?

Then it hits me.

Instagram.

Nick must have seen the photo I had posted to my account with Spencer, Heidi, and everyone else we met at Hank's bar. But as I study Nick's face ... truly study his face, I start to realize that his sharp words have little to do with me and everything to do with him.

He feels left out.

It was me out there having fun, not him. He wasn't invited, and despite all the times I wasn't invited, it hurts him. Throughout our years together, he's always been like that, the one who needed more friends, more attention, more love, an abundance of belonging to fill the many blank spaces formed by his father's neglect.

Yes. Nick, my husband of twenty years, has a vast array of mental shit.

Just like we all do.

But his mental shit has affected my mental health for far too long. That is not okay. Not then, not in the future, and most certainly, not now.

"Yes, Nick, Spencer and I met some amazing new friends and seeing as how you never notified me your arrival time, I fully enjoyed myself rather than just sit here, alone, waiting for you to arrive."