Could it be that everything was going to turn out right?
Mickey kept going, “So, Ash wants you and Rhiannon to bond. Rhiannon knows this and she wants our daughter to have this. She said you were cool when you answered the door. She knew it was a surprise for you when she showed, not a good one, but you were nice to her. Offered to let her see the kids. Told her it was nice to meet her. It wasn’t good why we got divorced and we didn’t agree on why we got divorced. What we agreed on is that we’d do what we could to make us bein’ apart as easy as possible for the kids. She’s nice. Doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, unless she’s in denial and fuckin’ up her life. That means she will not do you dirty. I don’t suspect she wants you in her crew. I think she just wants her daughter to have somethin’ solid and real. Folks around her who give a shit and also get along. And babe,” he moved closer to me, “it’d mean a fuckuva lot you did this for me too.”
Shit, I had to do this.
Shit, I had to do this.
“I’ll do it.”
His grin was not easy.
It was warm and beautiful and utterly amazing.
“Thanks, Amy,” he whispered.
For that grin, I’d do anything.
Then again, I’d do anything for Mickey.
And Aisling.
“Do anything for your girl, Mickey,” I replied.
That got me more grin until I lost it when he was kissing me.
“You guys gonna stay in there until Armageddon or what?” Cillian shouted and Mickey broke the kiss. “Spaghetti’s ready!”
“Cill! Shut up!” Ash yelled on the heels of Cillian shouting.
“Comin’!” Mickey bellowed on the heels of Ash yelling.
Then he took my hand, pulled me out of his room and we had spaghetti.
* * * * *
“This is beautiful,” Rhiannon decreed.
“I like it,” Aisling said quietly, but from the look on her face, she didn’t like it. She loved it.
It was late Saturday morning. Rhiannon had come to Mickey’s to pick up Ash and me. It was awkward for Rhiannon and me from the get-go but I was working, and knew she was too, at hiding this from Aisling.
I just hoped we were succeeding.
We were now in Bed Bath and Beyond, our first stop.
And I was staring at bed linens that were sophisticated and grown up and I wouldn’t mind having them in my house.
The problem was that I worried they were expensive.
The comforter was a muted green with an equally muted sheen, two wide strips of pretty beading up the sides. The sheets were cream. The green euro pillow shams also had a wide strip of beading down the middle. The standard shams had two strips to the sides. The toss pillows included a neckroll in an embroidered cream, a green rectangle with two stripes of beading to its sides, and a square with beading at the corners.
“We’re getting this,” Rhiannon announced and Ash turned wide, happy eyes to her. “All of it. Even those toss pillows and the euros.”
I started panicking.
“To get it all, we’ll need another cart,” Rhiannon decided as I sidled to the shelves behind the bed display in order surreptitiously check the prices. “Can you go get one, honey?”
“Sure,” Ash agreed, giving her mom a small smile, giving me one, then moving away.
I looked to the price tags on the shelves where the linens were. I did a quick calculation and continued to panic.
Mickey had given us a budget. It wasn’t excessive, it wasn’t skimpy. But if we bought the entire ensemble, it would be more than half of what he gave us.
The linens would clash in her room now with all its other accoutrements. So we needed paint. We needed new lamps (all her lamp bases or shades were purple or pink). Her floors were wood and it was highly unlikely under that layer of clothes that the rugs were green or cream or beige or mushroom or oyster or anything that would work with the sophistication of those linens.
The decorator in me screamed. The mom in me screamed louder. Blowing more than half our budget on bedclothes meant the job would end up not right, half-assed, and Aisling would have to live in that until it could be sorted. Christmas was weeks away and I probably could get away with a lamp, a rug, or maybe some knickknacks, but Mickey wouldn’t want me to go all out.
This meant we’d have to piecemeal her redecoration efforts and that didn’t say, We love you. We know you’re growing up smart and responsible and beautiful and we want you to have space that reflects that. It said, We’re doing what we can do. Deal with it.
“Isn’t it pretty?”
The question came from Rhiannon.
I looked to her and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t contribute to the cause because that might upset Mickey. I couldn’t allow us to blow the whole budget on sheets, comforter, shams and toss pillows because that would mean we’d either have to get super cheap stuff for the rest or defer it. And I couldn’t say Aisling couldn’t have it because Rhiannon already told her she could and it was obvious Mickey’s girl loved it.
“You don’t like it?” Rhiannon asked, reading my face.
“I…well…” I drew in a deep breath. “It’s gorgeous. She loves it. So I’m really sorry to say this but this stuff is going to blow half our budget and this is the first store we’ve been to. I’m worried about—”
“This is from me.”
I wasn’t thinking that was any better.
She read that too, turned her face away and it looked like she was deciding something.
I let her, watching her and seeing Mickey did have a type.
His type was me.
Sure, Rhiannon had dark blonde hair, but she also had hazel eyes, a pretty face, she was my height (maybe an inch taller) and she was very curvy in a nice way. She wore classy clothes that were a bit edgy. She took care of herself.
In fact, watching her, I noted that now, miraculously, she didn’t look five years older than me. She looked my age. Her skin brighter, healthier, the flush from the cold outside still on her cheeks.
She interrupted my musings on Mickey’s type when she looked back to me and declared, “It’s time for honesty.”
Oh God.
We’d been together for less than an hour, Ash was off getting a cart, I wasn’t ready for honesty.
I braced.
She noticed it and her voice softened. “Not bad honesty, Amy. But honesty for me, after a while where I wasn’t honest at all, is a good thing.”
“I…okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say and not saying what I wanted to say, which was that I didn’t know what she was going to say but I still wished she wouldn’t say it.
I didn’t get my silent wish.
She started talking.
“I know it seems weird, me buying my daughter sheets and stuff for her room at her dad’s. But I have a feeling Mickey’s told you about me so I have a feeling you know I haven’t been mother of the year. Not this year, or the last, or any for a while.”
When she meant honesty, she wasn’t kidding.
I decided it best not to respond, however, I kept my expression open for her to continue.
She did.
“I have a problem,” she declared.
I fought against my mouth dropping open.
Was she saying what I thought she was saying?
“I’m working on it,” she went on. “I’ll be working on it forever but at least I’ve started working on it. When they were with me, the kids were talking about you and I knew the way you were around, knowing Mickey, that you meant something. I didn’t…that didn’t…” her voice dropped to a whisper, “that upset me.”
“Rhiannon.” I was whispering too.
She lifted her chin slightly. “They liked you. I…you were…it seemed like you were making a family. And I…I…” she shook her head, “I didn’t handle that very well. Then I missed Cill’s birthday—”
“Mickey and I weren’t even together then,” I told her quietly.
 
; “Yes you were,” she replied.
We were. We were in the throes of a bizarre mating ritual but we were into each other. I just didn’t know it and he was fighting it.
I made no reply.
“That was…” she held my eyes, “a mother doesn’t do that, Amy. Miss her boy’s birthday.”
“No,” I agreed carefully.
She straightened her shoulders. “So I missed Cill’s birthday. Ash was slipping. And I was wallowing. Mickey and I got into it and I didn’t even know how some of the stuff I was saying was coming out. I knew he wasn’t like that. I knew he’d never do the stuff I was accusing him of doing. And when he gets angry,” she smiled a melancholy smile, “I’m sure you know, he lets loose. So, even still angry at me, when he phoned about his scene with Aisling it was dawning on me I had to wake up. Everyone was being adult about the situation, even the kids. The only one who wasn’t was me. Then I came to the house and saw you.”
I kept eye contact, unsure of what was coming.
She kept speaking.
“You were nice. You seemed comfortable there. That didn’t sit well with me either. It hurt. But you were nice. You weren’t cold or mean. You were…you were…nice.”
“I’m divorced too, Rhiannon, I have kids. I know it’s important to try to keep things good with all involved, doing that for the children. Saying that, my ex and I haven’t actually accomplished that feat,” I admitted.
“Well, I’m sorry,” she replied. “I hope that gets better. I’m actually surprised to hear it because I walked away from meeting you and I thought, if that woman could stand in the home that used to be mine and be friendly and welcoming, which had to be hard considering all that was going on, but it would always be awkward, and you did what you could not to make it that way, then what was wrong with me?”
“Rhiannon—” I started.
“I went right from there to Reverend Fletcher.”
I blinked.
She continued, “There’s a meeting at the church, Wednesday nights. I started going.”
Oh my God!
She was saying what I thought she was saying!
She shook her head, looked over my shoulder, then back at me. “It’s not enough. But there’s a community center in Fullham. It’s a drive but they have meetings on Monday evenings and Saturday afternoons. I don’t have a sponsor yet or anything, but there are folks who go who’ve been in recovery a lot longer than me who have given me their numbers so I can call if things get…if they get…hairy.”
I held my breath.
“I haven’t had a drink since I met you that Friday,” she announced.
Oh my God.
How fabulous!
“Rhiannon, that’s wonderful,” I told her, wanting to reach out and grab her hand but knowing that wasn’t where we were so I didn’t.
“It’s hard. Seriously hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done,” she told me.
“I’m sure,” I said quietly.
“But it’s the best thing I ever did, except making beautiful babies.”
I nodded.
She was so right.
“Are you…have you…do the kids know?” I asked.
“Mom isn’t pouring and I figure they noticed it. But officially, not yet,” she answered.
“Mickey?” I asked.
“I don’t want to ask you to keep secrets but I’d like to tell him myself. I intend to do this soon so it isn’t like you have to keep it from him forever. I just wanted some time and to stay on track for a while before I shared.” She took a breath and carried on, “And the important thing right now isn’t me. It’s seeing to Aisling. When things are better with her, I’ll explain the process to the kids.”
I nodded again. Though I thought that her sharing that might help things get better with Ash, it wasn’t my recovery and it wasn’t my place to give my opinion.
And I wasn’t entirely certain why she was telling me and intended to wait to tell those a far sight closer to her. But it was hers to give to who she thought it was right to give. This had to be a process and she didn’t seem to be winging it. Maybe I was step one, a person who was on the edges of her life who, not in a bad way, didn’t really matter. Maybe I was a practice run. The beginning of the rest.
And if that was the case, I had to make it as smooth and positive as possible.
“I’m happy for you. For the kids. For Mickey even,” I said and gave her an encouraging smile. “This is really great, Rhiannon.”
“I want to make sure, to be good for a while, just in case I…I don’t want to get their hopes up.”
That I understood.
“I get you,” I told her.
“So it isn’t much but my Ash having nice bed stuff to make her smile, it’s something.”
We were full circle and it was quite a journey to take unexpectedly in Bed Bath and Beyond.
But I was honored to be on it.
Even so, I had to note, “You’re right. It’s just…Mickey.”
I said no more but she knew Mickey so she understood me.
“I’ll call him so he knows we’re sticking to his budget and the bed stuff is from me.”
“That’s a good plan.”
“I’ll do that now,” she murmured, bending her head and digging into her purse. She got her phone out and looked to me. “I’ll just wander and do that. When she gets back, you’ll help Aisling get her stuff? Two sets of sheets. It’s no good for laundry day with just one.”
“We’ll take care of it,” I assured her.
She nodded and gave me a small smile before she wandered off, phone to her ear.
I started amassing the stuff Aisling would need, piling it on the bed display. Surprisingly, it took some time before Aisling arrived with another cart.
I looked to her. “Hey, blossom.”
“I’m sorry. I stopped because I saw these.” She lifted up a plastic tray, one of several she had in her cart. “I know it isn’t decorating so I’ll use my own money to buy them, but I thought they’d be good to organize my makeup. You know, to get it off my dresser.”
I smiled at her, wishing I could buy them for her and thinking, next time something like this happened, I’d get a budget from Mickey as to how much he’d let me splurge to spoil his girl. Even if it was twenty dollars, I’d get to have fun and I’d get to give her something.
But bottom line, it was brilliant she was interested in what we were doing and going so far as to consider adding organizing to our project.
“Great idea,” I said. “Those’ll be perfect.”
Her lips tipped up and her eyes wandered. “Where’s Mom?”
“Getting the go-ahead from your dad to spoil you with fabulous bed linens.”
Her eyes shot back to me. “Do you think he’ll mind?”
“Not even a little bit,” I told her. “But, they should be on the same page with this project, don’t you think?”
That settled her in a variety of ways. I knew it from the look in her eyes, the expression on her face and even in her body language.
She liked her mom and dad talking. She wanted them on the same page. She wanted more, to go back in time and have what they had before life tore their family apart.
But she’d take this.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“Okay, help me load this up,” I said. “And you don’t have euros so we’ll have to go to the pillow section. Your mom walked that way. If she’s not back, we’ll meet up with her there.”
“Cool,” she mumbled.
We loaded up. We got euro pillows. Rhiannon met us in that section with the news Mickey okayed Rhiannon’s contribution. After we made our purchases and were headed to Lowe’s for paint, in the car, I texted Mickey and asked if I could have a budget.
He texted back, My heiress has gotta spoil my girl. You got fifty bucks.
Which meant I bought a fabulous lamp for her nightstand at Pier 1.
When we got home and the boys helped us cart the massive stash in, Mick
ey and Cillian teased Aisling about just how much it took to redo a girl’s bedroom. She gave a lot of “shut ups,” but she did this smiling.
Then Mickey gently laid down the law that if Aisling wanted him to corral his buds to help paint her room while she was at her mom’s, the place had to be picked up, packed up (so they could move things easily) and cleaned.
She’d agreed.
Through this, Rhiannon and I sat at the kitchen bar, sipping tea and chatting.
It wasn’t entirely comfortable, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
What it was, was real.
And good.
For the kids.
And for Mickey.
So it worked for me.
* * * * *
I didn’t tell Mickey about Rhiannon’s efforts at recovery. He already sensed she was no longer drinking.
But that was hers to share.
And since we exchanged numbers “just in case,” when I texted her after she left to let her know that was my decision, she’d texted back, Thank you, Amy. I promise I won’t take too long.
I didn’t know if she even knew my name was Amelia.
But I didn’t mind that Rhiannon called me Amy.
She was a part of the family.
* * * * *
“You wet?”
I was sitting beside the boxing ring with Alyssa and Josie.
The question was from Alyssa.
The answer was a breathy, “Yeah.”
To which I received, “Season delayed this year. Seemed to take an eternity.”
It was the Saturday night after my foray shopping to decorate Aisling’s room with Rhiannon.
The day had been a success.
Mickey was right. Rhiannon didn’t want me in her crew. But she did want something healthy between all the adults in her children’s lives and obviously, I was all for that too.
In fact, things as a whole were going swimmingly, no longer just for me, but also for Mickey.
The papers had been filed for Mickey’s company. I’d found a graphic designer who was designing his logo. His dad had wired him the money and Arnold Weaver had drafted the papers they were going to sign for their investment agreement. Someone had requested that Mickey put in a bid for a full roof they wanted on before the weather got too crazy. And Mickey, Bobby and Jimbo were going to start interviewing the firefighters for the salaried position next week.