Chuck
Mornings were always a little hectic for me. I woke up around five in the morning to try and get a little work done on my next book, have a cup or two of coffee, and then prepare breakfast for Clarissa before I had to drop her off at daycare. Clarissa was a bit of a picky eater, so sometimes it was hit or miss when it came to breakfast time. She loved sugary sweet cereals and hated eating fresh fruits. I didn’t want to blame Sandy for Clarissa’s pickiness, but there was no denying she picked it up from her mother. Sandy rarely disciplined our daughter, didn’t stand firm when it came to important decisions. Sandy always allowed Clarissa to do whatever she wanted. I’d luckily taught Clarissa a bit more self-restraint and respect, but some mornings –like this one– were still difficult.
Clarissa folded her arms across her chest and pouted. “I want pancakes,” she demanded.
“You’re going to be late, baby,” I reasoned. “There isn’t any time to make pancakes.”
“But I want pancakes!” she said again, getting louder. It was only a matter of time before she was shrieking and waking up the neighbors.
“How about I make you pancakes for dinner tonight?” I bargained. “You always like breakfast for dinner, right? You can have a whole plateful when you get back from daycare.”
My daughter brought her thumb and forefinger to her chin and stroked it. I wasn’t sure where she’d learned to do that, but it was heartwarmingly adorable. Clarissa looked to the side and pressed her lips together, frowning deeply to give off the impression of deep thought. “Okay,” she said. “But only if I can have strawberry sauce, too.”
I chuckled and nodded. This was as good of a compromise as I was going to get. “Okay, baby. I promise. I’ll even go out and buy strawberry sauce for you.”
Clarissa clapped her hands together. “Yay!”
“Now, please finish your oatmeal and put on a fresh shirt.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
I sighed in relief as Clarissa finally took a bite out of breakfast. She was a sweet little thing, but a real handful at times. I sat across from her at the table and took another sip of my coffee, pouring over my notebook full of plot ideas. My project was coming along, albeit slowly. But progress, no matter how small, was still progress. I’d been so caught up in whether or not my next book was going to be a success or not that I’d unintentionally paralyzed my own creativity. If it hadn’t been for Lara and her constant encouragement and positive outlook, I didn’t know where I would have been.
Things between me and Lara were going great. I’d actually been planning a little weekend getaway for the two of us, but our schedules kept conflicting with one another. With her college classes taking up most of her weekdays and her part-time job at Ramen Books taking up her evenings and weekends, it was difficult to find the time to steal her away. I was sure that with a bit more planning, we’d find the time to spend together. If I had to wait a couple more weeks before she had a day off, I was more than happy to do so. We were in a good place and I really didn’t feel the need to rush into anything. Lara herself seemed perfectly content with how things were doing, and that was more than perfect for me.
I was just about to finish off my cup when my cellphone dinged on the table, vibrating twice to alert me that I had a new text message. Upon seeing who the message was from, I frowned.
“What is it, Daddy?” Clarissa asked.
“Nothing, baby. Wipe your mouth, please.”
I picked up my phone and checked the text.
[Sandy] Can we talk?
The device dinged again. And then again.
[Sandy] It’s urgent.
[Sandy] I really need to talk to you, Chucky.
I sighed in frustration. I really didn’t feel like being dragged into a conversation my ex-wife. Only God knew how long that was going to take, and since Clarissa was already running late, I really didn’t want to chance it. But Sandy wasn’t the type of woman to be kept waiting. Just mere seconds later, my phone started to blow up, playing the familiar ring tune of an oncoming call. I had half a mind to ignore it, but Clarissa looked up at me in confusion.
“Aren’t you going to answer?”
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nbsp; I let out a heavy exhale and nodded. I picked up the phone and pressed it to my ear. “What do you want?”
“Oh, Chucky,” Sandy sobbed. She sounded genuinely distressed. “Everything’s been awful, and I don’t know who to turn to.”
I frowned. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“It’s Carl, he–” She sniffled. “He broke up with me.”
A number of emotions hit me in quick succession. At first, I felt vindication. Sandy had cheated on me with Carl and effectively ruined what little remained of our already fracturing marriage. A part of me felt like she deserved what was happening to her. Karma was a bitch, after all. But then I felt guilty for feeling that way. Nobody deserved to have their heart broken. Even though Sandy had hurt me, I’d never wish the same kind of heartache on anyone else. And then I was genuinely concerned. Sandy and I had a lot of history. Somewhere, deep down in the pits of my subconscious, I still cared for her. She was the mother of my child, a woman I’d known for many years. Just because we weren’t on great terms, didn’t mean I felt nothing. I wasn’t some heartless bastard who could just turn his back on someone he’d once loved with all his heart.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I admitted, speaking the truth.