It had taken too many tries to type out the question: “Who is that with my husband?”
“Oops,” had been the associate’s reply a few minutes later.
No apology. No words of remorse or shock. Just oops.
Had the associate regretted posting the picture? Had he known about the affair and not told her about it? Or was the expression because she’d found out and been humiliated about it so publicly?
Having newly rented a two-bedroom house, Saylor had decided to take as little as possible with her when she’d left. Unfortunately, that had included Christmas and other decorations.
She stared at their shabby, little Christmas tree—a half-sized one, since that was all she could afford, placed on top of one of the end tables covered in a tree skirt to make the tree look taller. A single present remained, the only one she bought for herself.
“Come on, Saylor,” she said to the room full of no one in the bad habit she’d developed of talking to herself when she was alone. “You’ve had your pity party. Let’s go to dinner.”
Against every other convention she’d taken up, like going to the grocery store in sweats and baggy t-shirts, and only wearing makeup for church—she dug out an old favorite outfit. Brown skinny jeans with a long, slimming sweater. Instantly, it reminded her of David, of the day he’d come home and had offered a single daisy just days after she’d seen the Facebook picture. A pathetic attempt at an apology he didn’t really mean. Who knew a hug could sting like a knife?
She dug for another outfit, some faded jeans that bent just right, with a shirt she’d had since Parker was born. That shirt brought pain too—she’d worn it the day they’d left the hospital. The day after seeing David hover over his son’s bassinet so protectively and lovingly. It had melted her heart to have him love the son they’d brought into the world together.
More shirts, more pants, more memories. She slammed the drawer shut, glancing down at her sweats once more.
“Mom’s right,” she mumbled. “I need some new clothes.”
She threw something semi-nice on—a dress she hadn’t worn in years, paired with some boots. She took the time to coil her brown hair into long, loose curls and added eye shadow, eyeliner, and blush to her typical mascara-only routine. She even spritzed on some perfume.
Snow fell in big, fat flakes, hushing over the cold night. Her car chugged a few times before starting, and she rolled out of the driveway toward downtown Twin Falls. She circled the mall parking lot, undecided about her eating choice.
She wasn’t in the mood for a big, fancy meal, especially not at a restaurant where a waiter could lord over her and wonder all kinds of thoughts about a woman eating alone on Christmas Eve. She opted for the mall food court instead.
Bright, cheerful music rode along with the scents of cinnamon when she entered. The warm, Christmas spirit was doing its best to lift her mood. While she loved Christmas, the striking displayed wreaths and sparkling fake snow on store windows, it didn’t manage to burst the ice in her chest completely. Families were scrambling to do some last minute shopping, reminding her again just how alone she was.
It's okay, she told herself. She was happy to know it at least worked for some people.
After grabbing a slice of pizza, a dress in Bernice's caught her eye, black and white checkered, t-shirt casual, perfect to wear to work. Saylor did a mental checklist of her budget. Things had been tight since the divorce. Considering his car, new clothes and haircut, David wasn’t having the same problem.
The dress hugged like a glove. Saylor bought it, tearing off the tag to hand to the sales associate behind the counter so she could wear the dress out. The associate smiled as Saylor stuffed the old dress she’d worn into the bag in its place.
Retail therapy was definitely a thing, and it turned out, Saylor had needed some.
Feeding on the thrill of buying something new, she gave in and bought a new pair of leggings and earrings to go with the dress, too.
She passed a few more stores, smiling at the families waiting in line for their turn to meet the department store Santa, trying to ignore the dull ache eating at her. She tried on a few pairs of jeans which she then hung back up, though she did splurge to buy another pair of PJs for Parker. She couldn’t pass up a sale when the kid was wearing holes in his size six footies.
One of the elves directing traffic around the mall’s North Pole approached as she stepped out of Children’s Place.
“Merry Christmas Eve!” said the man wearing a pointy hat. He fanned a coupon in her face. “We close in a few minutes. The last pictures of the night are half priced before Santa has to go off and deliver presents.”
Smile mortared, she said, “Thanks, but my son isn’t here.”
“Who said it’s just for kids?” He smirked. The bells on his hat jangled. “I won’t tell.”
She laughed at this. “I’m glad to know you can keep secrets. But no, thanks. I’m a little old to sit on Santa’s lap.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, leaving the coupon on the table.
The phone in her purse rang as he walked back toward the life-sized hodgepodge of snow-covered trees and the makeshift-but-charming Santa hut. Saylor hurried to answer the instant she saw who it was from.
Parker’s face took up the screen, shadowed in the dim backseat. He was using FaceTime, his favorite way to call. Her heart squeezed at the sight of him.
“Parker!”
“Hi, Mommy!” Noises from the car surrounded him, and despite the shadows, she could make out the pout of his lower lip. Uh oh. He was upset already? Granted, it was a fairly long drive to Orofino. Maybe he was bored in the car.
The same fears
