On The Mend

Brody and I met during the fall after Adam was traded and moved to Dallas. We met at a benefit for the Children’s Memorial Hospital my Dad’s company was hosting. We’d been making eyes across the room all night and, finally, when the room cleared out and it was just my family and his we were introduced.

My parents were never fans of Adam -- they wanted me to divorce him before we even got married. Ever since I showed up at Thanksgiving dinner without my rings on they’d been looking for a “suitable” husband for me. My mom once told me that a bowl of fruit salad would make a better husband than Adam because at least the fruit salad was clean and hygienic. Due to their preinstilled hatred I’ve decided not to make it worse by telling them the actual reason I filed the papers. And, to this day, they don’t know that we’re still married.

What impressed me the most about Brody was that he didn’t try to show off when we were introduced. Our parents were watching us closely, grinning like fools. Instead of being cheesy by kissing my hand or bowing to me -- my mom made me go on a date with someone who did both at the same time -- he chose to make a joke about his dad’s tie matching the carpet.

Our parents left us alone, then, and we began talking without the awkwardness of being prided upon. I told him about my job and my education (standard topics, I assume) and he told me his. We explained our reasons for being at the benefit: I was there because I had to be (although I hold nothing against hospitals, it was a Friday night and I had parent/teacher conferences the next morning) and he was there because he was the architect designing the new 13+ wing, the entire reason for the benefit.

We went on our first date that night and Brody made me completely forget about conferences. We went to Navy Pier and watched the fireworks before he took me to dinner at McDonalds as a joke. We decided it would be fun to count the stares we’d get seeing as we were both dressed formally. I counted thirty before I gave up. After dinner, we walked along the beach and then, from the Museum Campus, watched the skyline go from lit up like fireflies among the stars to empty and hollow like a blank canvas as the sky turned from black to blue. By the time I finally checked my watch it was six in the morning -- three hours before I needed to be at the school.

He didn’t kiss me when he dropped me off at my car. He didn’t even hug me. I didn’t know what to think about it -- whether or not I should be offended -- because of my experiences with past relationships. All my high school boyfriends kissed me on the first date. No tongue or anything, but a kiss. Adam and I were so drunk after our first date that we went back to my apartment and had sex. Call me sleazy but when Adam Burish says he wants to ravish you, you’re going to let him. But Brody didn’t do anything and I didn’t even get his number. That was probably the best first date I would ever have; running all over Chicago in the middle of the night. I wanted more dates like it.

Somehow I managed to get through conferences. It was mostly mothers who came in to talk about their sons or daughters, but the occasional father would stroll through, notice my last name (it was still Burish for legal purposes), and begin a conversation about whether or not I knew Adam. I owned up to it like I always did -- I was always so proud to be with him…looking back on it now I don’t exactly know why -- and ended up talking about hockey instead of their child’s performance in my class.

The days continued to pass and I still wasn’t hearing anything from my lawyer, Brody, or Adam. I wasn’t too concerned about the last one, though. I’d heard from Patrick that he was adjusting to Dallas quickly and making friends with his new teammates. Apparently he was “missing me like Hell,” too, but that wasn’t my problem anymore. I’m not the one who ruined everything.

Finally, two weeks after we spent the night on the town, I was in class acting out Romeo and Juliet with my sophomores when the principal came to the door with a bouquet of what looked like two hundred roses of all different colors. Needless to say I was embarrassed because all the girls in the class awed and all the boys were jealous that I was letting another man call me baby. Well, I mean, when Brody and I got to that point I’d let him call me baby. Among other things. I took the flowers out of her hands and she winked at me before she closed the door. Noticing the note, I let my eyes glance over it before I went back to the play.

Don’t think I forgot about you.
Be ready at seven.

I was ready at six. I was ready and pacing the hardwood floor in my apartment imagining all the possibilities that the night could lead to. I’d called my mother after I got out of school and told her that Brody and I had a date and that I was more nervous than I ever had been with Adam. She was ecstatic -- not only because I was dating again but that I was dating Brody, a man “worthy” of my love and affection -- and told me she knew he’d contact me. She’d been the one to give him my work and home addresses. I saw the night going in one of two ways: the first would be romantic and sort of cheesy, something I didn’t see Brody doing. The second was more like how the night actually went: dinner at Charlie Trotter’s, talking and a lot of laughing, and, finally, a kiss goodnight.

It was what I had been waiting for. I needed something to compare Brody to Adam with (as if the higher level of class and graciousness wasn’t enough) and I finally had it: the first kiss. When compared to Adam’s, Brody’s was phenomenal. It was elegant and sweet and impeccably timed. Adam’s, on the other hand, had been sloppy and drunk and, more than anything, extremely hot. Maybe that’s why it led to sex and Brody’s didn’t.

After our second date, things started to move quickly. We spent all our free time together and each had drawers of clothes in the bedroom of the other. Every Friday night was date night and at some point during the week he’d have flowers delivered to my classroom. I soon got over the embarrassment of it and began to use the interruption as fuel to keep going when I was tired. We were together for three months when I decided to tell him about Adam. I mean, it was only fair that he knew.

We were laying in his bed watching Keeping Up With The Kardashians (I have no shame in stating that this is my favorite show, including all the spin-offs) and, on the show, Khloe was getting married. The guilt of not sharing my secret with Brody had been starting to eat at me for weeks and when I saw she and Lamar say “I do” I knew he had to know.

“Babe?” I said. He looked down at me and kissed my forehead. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

He pushed a piece of hair away from my eyes, “What’s up?”

“I’m married.”

There really was no other way of saying it but to be blunt about it. There was no point in tiptoeing around and playing a guessing game when he was going to find out eventually, anyway.

“I know.”

“What?”

“I know. Your mom told me when she called to give me your address. She said you’re going through a divorce and the lawyers are taking forever to finalize things. I knew you were going to tell me but on your own terms and when you were ready. I saw no problem in asking you out and waiting for you.”

“You’ve known? For three months?”

“Yes.”

“And you continued to like me? Even though I was lying to you every day?”

“You weren’t lying, Soph. It’s not like you told me you were single.”

“I implied it.”

“Those are two different things,” he laughed.

“I love you,” was the only thing I could say in reply. And I did -- I loved Brody. I love Brody. He’s everything that Adam isn’t and everything I’ve been looking for. Best of all, he’s ready to have kids. I didn’t know this then, of course, because that would definitely have been moving too fast, but I found out a few months later when I was having a bad day and he was there to listen.

The conversation stemmed from me complaining about the divorce still being unsettled after nearly a year and a half. My lawyer told me that Adam’s lawyer was throwing a bitch fit about the assets that I want: my apartment and the car Adam bought me for our second anniversary. I didn’t understand why such a big deal was being made when the apartment was mine before we got married and the car was a gift so I had every right to keep it. I wasn’t told until May the real reason I was still wed. I took my complaining home where Brody was doing paperwork in the dining room and talked until I couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Did she say why the apartment is an issue?” he asked me after I finally finished.

Twisting the cap off my water bottle and throwing it across the room, I replied. “No. She didn’t. And I’m getting fucking sick of it. I would understand if Adam and I had kids and the apartment was where they were growing up -- I’d get it. But the asshole didn’t love me enough to knock me up. I swear, he knew he was going to fuck up somehow and didn’t want the responsibility of telling his kid that he fucked up… he’s such a selfish prick.”

I remember Brody’s eyes being wide as he listened to me complain and then a smile came over his face.

“Two things. One, I’ve never heard you swear that much. Ever. Two, you didn’t tell me you want kids.”

“Of course I want kids, Brody,” I said, annoyed. “They’re all I’ve ever wanted.”

His smile got wider, “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I tossed the empty bottle into the garbage can and put my hands on my forehead, rubbing small circles to try and relieve the stress. “I’m going to take a nap.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t watch the push for the playoffs. I wouldn’t be lying, however, if I said I didn’t watch the games for Adam. The men on the Blackhawks were still my friends. At least, I liked to think of them that way. Sometimes Patrick and I would go get lunch and from time to time Jonathan and I would run in to each other in Wrigelyville (Brody is a Cubs fan). Not to mention I am and always will be a Chicago girl -- the Blackhawks have been my team since I was in the womb and I’ll be damned if a failed marriage changes that.

I know all about how the Hawks had an up and down season and somehow fought hard enough at the end to try and win a playoff position. I know all about how they lost to Detroit and were thrown out of the running and I know all about how, thanks to Minnesota beating Dallas, they got their shot at redemption. And I know all about Adam’s reaction. It was impossible to ignore. I couldn’t check my e-mail without his face staring at me on Yahoo.com. I managed to avoid reading the interviews as seeing his face was enough to throw me into a fit of rage about still being married to him.

It was around this time that my lawyer finally contacted me and told me the real reason I’m not divorced: Adam is refusing to sign the papers. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I’d been lied to for a year. Now imagine my surprise when, that night, just before I was about to tell Brody about this new development, he got down on one knee and proposed to me.

My reaction wasn’t normal. Nothing with me seems to be normal, lately.

“What are you doing?” I asked with no humor in my voice. We were in the living room at his condo watching reruns of The Walking Dead when he paused it and said he’d be right back. I was laying on the couch in a pair of his sweatpants and a tank top that my boobs pretty much hang out of. My hair was in a bun and I hadn’t showered in two days. School was out -- I had no reason to look presentable.

“Proposing to a married woman,” he replied. He looked ridiculous, kneeling down in front of me while I still lay on the couch. The only things he had on were a white t-shirt and a pair of boxers and I wanted to laugh at how unromantic it was.

“Are you serious?” Okay, I did laugh.

“As a heart attack.”

I fell on top of him and attacked his lips with mine. At that moment, the last thing on my mind was Adam Burish, and it stayed that way until this morning when I got on the plane to Dallas knowing that I was finally going to make things right.