Knitted Hearts by Amber Kelly
Foster
“I’m done, guys. Hopefully, it won’t take long, and I’ll be back by three,” I tell Myer and Truett.
I’m getting divorced today. Wendy decided to stop holding up the process and called me last night to ask me to meet her at the lawyer’s office this afternoon to hash out the last of the details.
“I can’t believe it’s finally happening. We should throw you one of those divorce parties,” Truett suggests.
“What the hell is a divorce party?” Myer asks.
“I saw it on TV. Girls get together and have a party, where they get drunk and burn the wedding dress. There’s cake and shit,” he explains.
“That’s a real thing?”
“Yep.”
“I’m not having any party,” I tell my brother.
“You’re no fun. I’m going to the bakery to get cupcakes for lunch.”
“Good. I need you to take Faith’s car seat to Dallas,” Myer says.
“Then, I’m having free cupcakes for lunch.”
Wendy and I meet at the lawyer’s office to end our marriage, and I sign the house over to her.
It’s strange how a decade of back-and-forth and fighting and making up, just to fight again, can all be resolved in a fifteen-minute meeting.
“I have a doctor’s appointment this week. They’re doing an ultrasound, and Gator is going with me. I’ll have the doctor print the photos and get them to you,” Wendy informs me as we walk out to the parking lot.
“Thanks, and just have the doctor send all your billing statements to me. I’ll take care of those.”
“I appreciate it. And thank you for keeping me on your insurance until after the birth. Hopefully, I’ll be on my feet and able to get my own by then,” she says.
“Sounds good.”
She clutches my elbow. “I’ve decided to sell the house. I had a realtor come over to look at it, and he thinks that after paying the mortgage off, I’ll bank about fifty thousand dollars. I’m going to move in with Gator for a while and go to cosmetology school. Janelle thinks I have potential, and she said if I stay in town after I finish school, she would even add a booth for me at the salon,” she tells me of her plans.
“That’s a great idea,” I encourage.
“I’m still not sure if I’ll stay forever or if I’ll go,” she says.
“You don’t have to know today. Just put one foot in front of the other and take it day by day,” I assure her.
She nods. “You do the same.”
“I’m trying,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong? I thought all of this would make you happy. Instead, you look like someone kicked your puppy. It’s annoying,” she snaps.
There’s the Wendy I know.
“I have a lot on my mind, Wendy. My relationship is over. I’m about to be a father. It’s heavy.”
“She dumped you? Why? I signed the papers.”
“It probably has to do with the about to be a father part.”
“That’s stupid. I’d think the married part was more important, but what do I know? I’m a homeless, knocked-up, single bar waitress … not exactly an expert at life.”
That makes me burst out laughing. I like this version of Wendy.