On The Mend

"I'm sorry I can't go with you today,” Brody tells me as he kisses my cheek. It's been two weeks since I found out that I'm still married until further notice and I've been in hell for the last fourteen days. I'm putting on a pair of earrings and looking at him through the mirror in front of me, wishing he would shut the hell up. “I wish I could tell that guy off for you.”

As much as I appreciate Brody's offer, I would appreciate it more if he would stop acting like macho man. Ever since I told him about my divorced being voided and Adam having to come to Chicago he's become more protective over me, making sure to take jabs at Adam every chance he gets. I sort of want to sock him every time he says something about him. He's never met Adam which means that, in my eyes, he has no right to judge him. He's also been hanging off me like a leech since I told him and, to be honest, it's making me want to go stay with Abby and Patrick.

"It's okay, baby,” I reply with a fake smile that he can't see through. “You have to go meet up with Bill. Figure out the rest of the interiors.”

“I know...I still feel bad.”

“You don't have to,” I protest, frowning. “I did this by myself before, I can do it again.”

“But you shouldn't have to do it alone,” he says, slipping on a dark blue blazer over a collared purple shirt. He kisses my cheek again. “I'm here now. I should be there with you.”

“Look,” I demand, slamming my hands on the dresser top. “I don't need your help. You don't need to be there with me. Frankly, my divorce is none of your goddamn business!” I don't feel bad about what I've said until Brody looks at me like a deer in the headlights. Even then I don't really feel bad, I just feel guilty for taking my aggression out on the one person who has been there for me through everything. “I'm sorry. I just...this is stressing me out, okay? I thought I was done, I thought I would never have to see him again and now...and now...”

Brody wraps his arms around me as tears begin to fall freely down my face. “Shh, sweetheart,” he comforts me. “It's okay. Everything will be okay.” If only you knew. “You're going to get through this and we're going to get married and live happily ever after. You'll never have to deal with him again, okay? You will finally get everything you've ever wanted.”

"I love you,” I tell him honestly while he rubs his fingers through my hair.

“I know you do. I love you, too.”

The guilt gets even worse and I feel bile rising up into my mouth. I'm out of his arms quicker than either of us can blink and hunched over the toilet, groaning and vomiting the banana and hot chocolate I ate for breakfast. Brody follows me to the bathroom and holds my hair for me until I finish. Slowly, I stand up and turn around to look at him with a deep frown.

"Sorry.”

He laughs. “Don't be sorry,” he says and hands me a toothbrush. “I love you even when you're puking your brains out.” He glances at his watch and then looks back to me. “I would give you a kiss goodbye but...you know,” he nods his head toward my toilet basin of disgusting. I nod in agreement and kiss my palm to blow him a kiss. He pretends to catch it and I roll my eyes.

"Love you!” I holler as he walks out of the bedroom. I don't listen for a response in fear that it may trigger another episode.


Unlike the last time I was in this building, I am not wearing my “fuck me” heels. Instead, I opt for simple ballet flats to go with dark skinny jeans and a rouged teal shirt. Jane smiles at me as I walk in and I return the smile but it immediately falls when I see Adam waiting in one of the chairs, either texting or playing some stupid game. Based on his maturity level I'm going with the second one. I take a seat three chairs down from him and pull out my own phone to text Abby.

i think i'm going to die I type.
A minute later I get her response: Shut up, drama queen.

When I glance up, I see Ruthie walking towards the waiting area and prepare myself to be called into her office before the meeting with Adam and his lawyer. Instead, she calls us both and my eyebrows knot together in confusion. Adam doesn't hold the door open for me when we get to the office and I resist the urge to kick him in the balls from behind.

"Well, it's been a long time since the two of you have been here at the same time,” is how Ruthie chooses to begin her speech. She says it with a sickly sweet smile. I want to scratch it off like a two dollar lottery ticket.

“Where is my lawyer?” Adam asks before she can go any further. “I don't feel comfortable here without her.”

“Right. Because this is about your comfort,” I mumble with a roll of my eyes. Abby called me a drama queen, I should tell her to forward her text to the ass next to me. Adam doesn't say anything but I know he heard me.

“Your lawyer and I spoke this morning, Adam, and decided that she doesn't need to be here today.”

“What do you mean? Aren't we doing a table meeting to go over terms?” I ask in confusion.

“Not exactly,” starts Ruthie. “I didn't get a chance to tell you this the other day because you ran out,” she looks at me with annoyance, “but since your divorce has been voided due to a lengthy process, you both are legally required to attend ten counseling sessions with a court-appointed therapist.”

Stick a fork in me. I'm done.


“Are you really not going to talk to me?” I scoff at Adam in the elevator after our meeting with Ruthie. For the entire half hour we were in her office, he spoke one word to me and it was in agreement for which therapist we'd use. “As far as I'm concerned I've done nothing wrong.”

“You gave your heart to someone else, Soph. I'm pretty sure that qualifies as something you've done wrong.”

“You're kidding me, right? You must be kidding me.”

“No, Soph, I'm not kidding you.”

“I'm not the one who slept with other people thirty eight times while we were still happily married, Adam! That was you! You're the one who ruined this!” He takes one large step towards me and pins me against the cool silver wall of the elevator. “Don't touch me!” I exclaim and push him backwards but it doesn't do anything. He stays in front of me. “Don't you dare touch me! Haven't you done enough!?”

Adam presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “I haven't done nearly enough, Sophie.” The elevator door opens and he pulls himself away from me and walks out of the enclosed space, leaving me alone to catch my breath and watch the doors close behind him.


It's the next day and I'm out shopping with Alisa. I need to find a new dress for a benefit of my dad's that my mom is forcing Brody and I to go to and since I hate shopping alone I called Alisa who hates shopping in general.

“So asshole is back in town, eh?” she asked, throwing a hanger from the rack onto the ground. “Want me to hunt him down and beat the shit out of him?”

“That's not necessary,” I laugh, knowing she's serious. “He won't talk to me anyway.”

Alisa looks at me with a crease in her forehead. “He won't talk to you?” she asks and throws another hanger. “What do you mean he won't talk to you?”

“The entire time we were with the lawyer he only said one word to me. And he wouldn't talk to me until I pissed him off enough that he had to defend himself.”

“It sounds to me like you want him to talk to you,” she says with a hard stare. “Do you want him to talk to you?”

“No!” I protest quickly. “Well...yeah, I guess. I mean, I don't know...we need to at least be on speaking terms to figure this crap out.”

“You know what I mean, Soph. Just because you slept with him doesn't mean you need to fall into any more of his traps. He's always been able to do this to you. Don't forget what else he's done. Or should I say who else.”

“Oh, shut up,” I groan and put back all the clothes in my arms. “Let's go get overpriced, greasy pizza. I'm starving and craving cheese.”

She looks at me like I've grown three heads and throws the rest of the hangers down to the ground. “Whatever,” she says and leads me out of the store.


“I don't feel good,” I complain an hour and a half later, a hand on the bottom of my stomach. We're at Macy's and I'm trying on dress one of six. It's a formfitting, floor length, midnight blue number that I hate. Alisa picked it out and said she'd beat me if I didn't try it on.

“Maybe that's because you ate three huge slices of pizza, you cow,” Alisa responds sarcastically. She looks me up and down in the dress and nods her head. “I hate it. You were right. Take that shit off.”

Still with a hand on my stomach, I reply. “I don't think I can.” The unparalleled feeling of needing to vomit begins to make its way up my body and my hands fly from my stomach to my mouth. “I think I'm going to be sick.”

“Soph, no! Not on the--” but it's too late. There's already a trail of puke running down the front of this ugly, five hundred dollar dress and knowing that now I'm going to have to buy it makes me puke again. “--dress,” Alisa sighs out.

“Oh my god,” I whisper in embarrassment. “Do you think...shit. Shit shit shit.” Alisa takes a step closer to me and beings to examine my puke. If it were anyone but her I'd think it was weird and disgusting. Okay, so it is disgusting. “What are you doing? Help me get out of this thing. Maybe we can just leave it in here and nobody will notice.”

“Sophie, what did you eat for breakfast?” she asks in response.

“An apple and granola. But I threw that up this morning. I think my nerves are getting to me because I've thrown up for the last two days,” I reply, not seeing the point she's trying to make.

“Your puke doesn't have any pizza in it.” She looks at me with her eyes wide. “Girl, are you pregnant?”

I vomit again.


The therapist that I chose is located off the Magnificent Mile about a mile from my apartment. I know Adam is staying with Patrick and Abby because I sold our apartment a few months after we both moved out of it and they leave about a mile in the opposite direction. I figured this location was a happy medium. Our therapist's name is Dr. Mellon and he's one of the top marriage therapists in the state, surprising considering he was appointed to us by the court. His office is in a highrise and on the forty seventh floor so there's a large view of the lake from all of the windows. It makes me want to be on the pier with all of the tourists.

I got here before Adam and was instructed with a smile to sit and wait for him to arrive and then we'd be called back. Our appointment is at one, it's twelve fifty. To pass the time I play a game of Solitaire on my phone and then scroll through the US Weekly app, catching up on the latest celebrity drama. When I realize that their lives make mine seem extra pathetic, I put my phone away and choose to stare out the window instead.

Why am I allowing myself to feel like such a worthless piece of shit? I have done nothing wrong. I didn't cheat on me with thirty eight women. I didn't refuse a divorce from me after cheating on myself with thirty eight women. All I did was say yes to a marriage proposal and sleep with my husband behind my fiance's back. In the grand scheme of things, that's not so bad, right? It's not like I'm a horrible person. I have a good heart. I give it away too often but that's not really a bad thing. I donate money every time I'm asked to in the check-out lane. I teach for a living, for Christ's sake. You have to be a good person if you're going to teach.

The underlying issue here is the guilt. I'm feeling worthless for cheating on Brody. In reality, I'm no better than Adam. I cheated. I am a cheater. I'm keeping it a secret. I may actually be worse than Adam when push comes to shove. As far as anyone knows, Adam doesn't have any children running around, birthed by the women he was sleeping with instead of me. I, on the other hand, am one hundred percent pregnant by a man who isn't my fiance, but my soon to be ex-husband. I am no better than Adam.

That makes me feel more guilty than anything.