My Mother Witnessed Their Wedding

Chapter 4 The First c***k

The first consequence arrived at Peter's office in the form of a client he lost.

I heard about it from a colleague who didn't know they were talking about my ex. Peter worked in commercial real estate, sourcing deals for a regional firm. One of his biggest clients, a family that had been with the firm for twenty years, had pulled their business. The reason given was vague. "Philosophical differences." But the rumor was that the client's daughter had gone to school with Alicia, and the wedding had gotten around, and the family didn't appreciate doing business with someone who'd made a public mess.

I didn't celebrate. I just noted it and moved on.

Then Alicia's mother called my mother. I know this because my mother called me about it, leaving a voicemail I did listen to, because I wanted to hear her voice c***k.

"Julia, this is your mother. Alicia's mother is very upset. She says people are talking about the wedding. She says it's affecting Alicia's job. I told her it wasn't your fault, but you know how people are. Please call me back. We can work this out."

I saved the voicemail. I didn't call back.

The second consequence was smaller. A mutual friend, a woman named Priya whom I'd known since graduate school, sent me a text.

Priya: I heard what happened. Are you okay?

Me: I'm fine.

Priya: I'm not going to pretend I know the whole story. But I'm here if you need anything.

Me: Thank you.

Priya: I should tell you, Alicia posted something on her profile. I don't know if you want to see it.

Me: I don't.

But I looked anyway. I'm only human.

Alicia had posted a photo of the two of them at a restaurant, Peter's arm around her, her hand on her stomach. The caption was something about new beginnings. The comments were full of congratulations. Half the people who commented were people I had introduced her to.

I closed the app and set my phone face down on the counter. Then I went to the bakery downstairs and bought a scone, because I hadn't eaten a real meal in three days, and sat by the window watching the fog roll in off the water.

I thought about the house. The Sea Salt trim. The kitchen where I'd spent a year of weekends. The garden where my father had planted roses when I was a child. My mother would have to leave it. She'd have to pack up thirty years of her life and find somewhere else to live, and she'd do it with the same quiet resentment she'd had when I didn't go to law school.

I should have felt guilty. I didn't.

A few days later, I got a call from an unknown number. I answered because I thought it might be a client.

"Julia?" It was Peter. His voice was hoarse.

"How did you get this number?"

"Your mother gave it to me."

Of course she did. "What do you want?"

"Can we meet? Just to talk. Things are... complicated."

"I'm sure they are."

"Alicia lost her job. The school let her go. Something about the way the news got around. She's been crying for days."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Julia, please. I need you to understand. We didn't plan this. It just happened."

"That's what people say when they don't want to take responsibility."

"I'm taking responsibility. I married her. I'm going to be a father. I'm doing the right thing."

"By definition, doing the right thing after doing the wrong thing is not the same as doing the right thing."

He was quiet. I could hear him breathing. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing. I want nothing from you. Please stop calling."

I hung up before he could answer.