“Wouldn’t that be a shit? We win the Super Bowl, and your wife still has to work.”
Noah hums in agreement. “I’d tell her to quit or take time off without pay. There is no way in hell I’m missing DisneyWorld if we win the big one.”
Now I’m the one laughing. “I’m sure everyone in the organization would go if we win.”
“When we win,” he reminds me. His eyes are still closed, and I think about doing the same, except my phone is still blowing up. I look down at the notifications. There isn’t anything new, just my phone reminding me that I have a slew of messages. I scroll, once again looking for Autumn’s name, hoping I just missed it in my early search. Still not there. Now comes the time when I decide who I want to hear from first. The twisting in my gut tells me Elena has done something, which is why my mom has texted so much. That or there is something wrong with the kids, which could be why Elena is texting. The sheer amount of anxiety I’m feeling right now is making me sick. I finally open the messages from my mom. Of course, the last one is the most damning and sets my mood right off. I don’t even desire to read the previous ones she sent because I’m so angry. My eyes focus on the last one.
Mom: Elena is back, and by back, I mean she’s unpacked clothes in your room.
What the fuck?
I exit her window and go to Reggie’s. Of course, he’s also telling me his mom is there, but he says his mom is home. She’s home. To him, everything is right in his world because this is everything he wants, for his parents to be back together. I finally click on Elena’s message, and the anger I felt after reading my mom’s message increases tenfold.
Elena: I’m home for good.
Why does she think this is okay? Did her boyfriend break up with her once he found out she isn’t getting any money out of me?
“Hey, man, you okay?” Noah's voice rings out. I look at my hands. My knuckles are white, and it’s like I’m trying to squeeze the shit out of my phone. Or break it. If it broke, I could play stupid when I get home, and no one would be the wiser.
“Yeah. It seems Elena decided to move home.”
“As in back to Portland?”
I shake my head, slowly back and forth, until I look at him. “Back to the apartment.” I go back to reading the messages from my mom. I give Noah a summary of what I read. “It seems Elena showed sometime during the fourth, interrupting everyone’s game watching, and she suggested Autumn leave.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Yeah. And here I am, encouraging her to go to my place and spend some time with my parents and the kids, and Elena shows up? I can’t even imagine what went down.”
“You should call Autumn. She’s likely the only one to give you the truth. Your mom’s view is skewed, as is Elena’s. Autumn is literally the only one who can tell you exactly what happened. Not that I think your mom would lie to you.”
“No, I know what you’re saying.” I press her name and bring my phone to my ear. The other line rings until it goes to voicemail. I don’t leave a message. Instead, I hang up and redial her number, only to have my call go to voicemail again. This time, I leave a message. “Hey, I’m on my way to the airport. If you get this, text me.” After I hang up, I stare at my phone. I should probably call my mom, but I don’t want to hear about the drama. Not right now. I send her a text, letting her know that we are about to get on the plane.
By the time the plane lands, I’m exhausted. Usually, I sleep, but with everything going on in my head, there was no way I could close my eyes long enough without seeing images of Elena being a shit to my parents. My mom won’t say boo in front of Elena, especially if the children are around. My dad won’t hold back. He’s never been a fan of Elena and tolerated her until she asked for a divorce.
We are on a charter bus once again, and this time, I try to keep my eyes closed. I have no idea what to expect when I get home, other than knowing Elena is there and my parents are back at their rental. In the slew of text messages from my mom, she had concerns about leaving the children with Elena, but being as we’re not divorced, there isn’t much my mom could do. Elena wouldn’t take the children—this much, I know.