Gabe runs over to them, also hugging him on the side. Jake wraps one hand around his shoulder, squeezing him and kissing his forehead.
I don’t stand around to hear their conversation; instead, I open the trunk, taking out our two soccer chairs. I walk over to the side of the field where the bleachers are. I say hello to a couple of people but not really making eye contact with anyone. I’m just not in the mood for small talk today.
The phone buzzes in my hand once more while I open the chair, and then one more time when I sit down.
Did you get the address?
Did you get the message?
Where are you? Why haven’t you answered?
I don’t have time to respond before another one comes in.
Are you watching porn?
I put my head back and type back.
Yes, and you’re disturbing me.
I press send and look over to see that Jake is leaning against his car, typing away on his phone. Then my phone buzzes again.
Jesus, do you ever stop?
I roll my eyes, crossing my legs, looking over to see Kaleigh and Rachel bending down.
Nope! Leave me alone. I got the memo. I’ll get your clothes. I think I can handle it.
I put the phone in the cup holder once the game starts. I clap when the kids run onto the field, yelling, “Go, Gabe, go!”
I’m not alone for long before Jake sits down in the empty chair beside me.
“You’re looking good, Laur,” he says, using his nickname for me from when we were married.
“Yup,” is all I say, because my phone buzzes again. Three times, then four. I pick it up, reading it quickly.
What time will you be in?
I need it for noon!!!
I have a meeting with the developer from the club that will be opening in three weeks.
Are you there?
I groan and type back.
I’m not on the clock, therefore it doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing or who I’m doing it with, for that matter. See you tomorrow at 8!
I look at the phone, seeing the bubble come up with the three dots. I wait. It goes off then comes back, then goes off again. Then the text comes through.
Who you’re doing? I thought you were divorced?
I turn the phone off, so I won’t answer or know if he answers.
“So, how is it being back in the job force?” Jake asks, opening a bottle of water and drinking it.
“Jake, I have to be nice to you in front of the kids so they don’t think I’m a bitter bitch. But when it’s just the two of us”—I point to him then me—“I don’t have to be nice to you. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll dispense with small talk. I don’t want to talk about my day, my job, if I’m doing okay, if I have a date, or really anything at all with you. So, if you’ll excuse me, I want to watch Gabe’s game.” I look to the field. “In peace.”
Jake doesn't say anything else to me for the rest of the game. We sit in silence as we watch Gabe’s team win. When the three whistles ring at the end, I see Kaleigh roll up her mat and walk over to us.
Jake kisses both kids and promises to see them next weekend. It’s his weekend, which means I get very familiar with my wine glass, my Kindle, and my couch. Netflix is also on deck for a big ol’ marathon!
I'm so excited to do absolutely nothing that whole weekend, I almost skip to the car.
By the time the baths are over and everyone is tucked in, I turn my phone on to set the alarm. I have five messages, all from Asshat.
Hello???
Did you get my messages?
Why aren’t you answering me?
Your professionalism is laughable. I don’t even know why I still have you as my PA. Do you even know what PA stands for?
Unbelievable! Just get my clothes.
I want to write him back to go fuck himself, him and his pencil dick, if he can even find it.
I whip the covers off and march to the hall closet, where I take out Gabe’s practical joke box he got for his birthday last year.
I open it, tossing aside the moustache glasses, Chinese finger traps, whoopee cushion, squirting ring, nail through finger, and electric shock buzzer, coming up with the itching powder. I take it out and close the box, replacing it on the top shelf.
I’ll show that asshat professionalism!
The next day, I get up, shower, and dress in a gorgeous royal blue wrap dress that I pair with a slim-fitting, tailored white blazer, since the dress is sleeveless. I quickly tuck the itching powder into my purse before the kids see it.
I make my way over to his dry cleaners, which is on the other side of town. Once I walk in, I give them his name and phone number, and collect his clothes.
There are about five suit jackets, ten pants, and twenty-five shirts. I have to walk to the car twice.
Once I’m inside the car, I open my purse and climb into the back seat.
I grab all his pants, taking one at a time, unfolding them neatly, and opening and sprinkling some powder in the crotch area, then pressing the legs together to rub it in a bit. I repeat this until all his pants are done.
I smile to myself, but then my phone rings, startling me as the sounds fills the car, causing me to jump as I bobble the bottle. It goes flying, landing on the floor near my foot. I let out a little yelp as I kick it away.
I peek at my phone and see that it’s him.
“Hello?”
“Where are you? Why aren’t you here?”
“Where am I? Did you not tell me to go get your clothes from the cleaners this morning? The cleaners that, mind you, is half way to Guatemala,” I return tartly while climbing back into the front seat and starting up the car.
