The New Husband(8)
Nina didn’t even remember what he looked like until he exited the car, letting Daisy out his door and into the arms of her deeply relieved family. Simon had brown hair cut short, kind eyes, and a little dimpled chin that made his boyish face ruggedly handsome.
“Found her wandering along the side of the road on Whipple Street,” Simon said. “My guess is she’d been in the woods.”
There were licks galore, kisses, and laughs, and Nina felt a nest of burrs and twigs tangled in Daisy’s thick fur.
“Lucky she came out when she did or I might have missed her as I was driving by. Glad you had her tagged.”
* * *
“AND THAT was how our relationship started,” Nina said after she finished recounting for Dr. Wilcox the day that Daisy had inadvertently brought them together.
“What was your first date like?”
Nina smiled at the memory. “Well, it wasn’t a date, but our first chance to spend time together was at my place. Simon remembered me, not only from the school program we worked on together, but because of Glen, because we’d been in the news. Anyway, I offered to have him join us for dinner, trying to think of something I could do as a thank-you for finding Daisy. I knew he wouldn’t accept money. He declined my invitation, but sweetly said given what I’d been through I could probably use someone to cook for me. He told me he’d bring something by the next day because he was making his best dish for some school potluck thing and he’d make extra for us.
“I didn’t really think I’d see him, but the next night he showed up with a baking dish of eggplant rollatine, which just so happens to be my favorite meal. It’s my comfort food. My nonni—that’s my grandmother—used to make it for me whenever I went to visit, and now I make it for my kids. They love it as much as I do. He showed up at dinnertime so I asked if he wanted to eat with us, and invited him in. That time he said yes.”
“Did you think Simon was interested in you romantically?” Dr. Wilcox asked.
“Maybe. I wasn’t really paying attention. I remember it felt strangely intimate to have him there, a bit unsettling, but I didn’t think of it as a date. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever date again after what Glen did to me—to us.”
Dr. Wilcox glanced at her watch as though she were instinctively aware of how much time had passed.
“I’m afraid that part of the story will have to wait until next time,” she said. “Our hour’s up.”
CHAPTER 5
I hate him. I absolutely, positively hate him.
Maybe, if after a year or something, Mom had wanted to go out on a date, sure, fine, go do it. But this was a real relationship. So yeah, my dislike of Simon was pretty much instant, and also justified. I told this to Mom a bunch of times of course, but she’d say everything was going to work out fine, and that eventually we’d become one big happy family doing all these Instagram-worthy things, like hiking and biking and whatever.
Screw that. I don’t drink or vape, I get good grades—I do everything I am supposed to do, but still my life stinks and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
And it’s all his fault—Mr. Fitch, aka Simon, aka Mr. I-Just-Want-To-Be-Your-Friend. God! He makes me want to puke. In five years, I’ll be gone. Outta here. Off to college and that will be that. I won’t ever, ever, come back, and my mom can cry all she wants, say how much she misses me all she wants, but I won’t care. And that will be my revenge. And when she gets old and needs someone to look after her, I’ll say, “Did you look after me? Nope! You moved me in with him, and for that you’ll have to die alone and lonely. Sorry, I’m not sorry!”
Okay, that’s not true. That’s my secret revenge wish, but I’d never, ever, ever do that to my mom. I love my mom. Love her with a cap “L” and all that mushy stuff. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be pissed at her for what she’s done. I still have feelings, you know. I still hurt.
One week into eighth grade and things are just as bad at school as they were at the end of seventh grade. I still eat lunch alone, thanks to Laura Abel’s campaign against me (not worth getting into now), and then last week I twisted my ankle playing lacrosse (thought for sure it was broken). So I’ve got a stupid boot around my foot and too much time on my hands, and worse, I’m home when he’s home. Students in my school are divided into different teams, each with different teachers, so thank God Almighty I don’t have Mr. Fitch for social studies. But now that I’m not playing lacrosse, we essentially have the same schedule, at least on days he doesn’t coach robotics, and I can’t stand to be alone with him.
Since Mom’s unpacked the house (well, mostly unpacked it), she’s been talking seriously about getting a job. Worst-case scenario alert! That would mean I could conceivably have hours alone with Simon after school. Can you say: Nightmare!
At least the new house is comfortable enough, but it’s not like I have any friends in the neighborhood. I don’t really have any friends at all anymore (again, not worth getting into). My room—aka my sanctuary—is like my room in the old house, but it doesn’t feel the same. Simon’s energy makes it different. Somehow it gets everywhere, floating like an airborne virus.
Anyway, I knew my mom was worried about money. The move was super expensive, and we’ve had nonstop contractors since we got here—electricians, plumbers, painters, landscapers. Awesome, right? But Simon didn’t think my mom needed to work at all. No, no, no. Mr. Fitch was set and ready to take care of us on his big teacher’s salary. I don’t know how much he actually makes, but it can’t be enough to support a family of four.