On The Mend

The first thing Dr. Mellon notices about Adam and I is our complete comfort around each other. I know he notices because he looks puzzled, like he's never seen two people in the process of getting divorced act the way we're acting. Adam and I haven't spoken one word since we've been called into Dr. Mellon's office but have communicated through our actions--I knew that him tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch meant he was thirsty so I gave him the water bottle from my purse; he knew that when I pulled my hair to one side of my neck I was uncomfortable so he handed me a pillow for my back.

It's disgusting. I know.

“Pardon my asking this,” Dr. Mellon starts with pursed lips, “but are you sure you need to be here?”

“Yes,” I answer with no hesitation.

Dr. Mellon puts his hands up in defense. “Okay. I was just making sure. You seem too...natural to not have a working marriage.” I make a mental note to tell Ruthie that we need a new therapist and roll my eyes. “So. I like to do things a little differently here in my practice and I'd like to start by asking you a series of questions about your spouse. The point is for you to answer them as quickly and accurately as possible. We'll know they're accurate based on your spouse either nodding or shaking their head. For every answer you get wrong, you must tell your spouse one thing you love about them.”

I'll be damned if I have to compliment Adam to his face and am determined to answer every question correctly. I've known the guy for five years and have been married to him for three of them, I should be able to answer a few petty questions about him.

“Are we ready?” Adam and I both nod our heads. “Sophie, we'll start with you and ping-pong back and forth. What is Adam's favorite color?”

“Blue.” Adam nods.

“Adam, what is Sophie's occupation?”

“She teaches English.” I'm torn on whether I should nod or shake. Technically I'm still an English teacher I just don't have anywhere to teach it. Adam doesn't know I've been laid off. Due to the pressure I shake my head causing Adam to look at me with a concerned expression on his face.

“I was laid off back in May. Budget cuts.”

“Okay, now Adam, since you got the question wrong, you need to tell Sophie one thing you love about her.”

Adam stays silent for a moment and looks at the ground. His head lifts and he looks at Dr. Mellon. “I love faces she makes when she wakes up in the morning,” he says quietly, twiddling with his thumbs. “They're always different depending on the night she had or how excited for the day she is.”

Dr. Mellon smiles and asks me another question.

“What is Adam's favorite football team?”

“The fudge Packers.” Adam busts out in laughter and I try to hide the smile that wants to break out on my face. He's nodding while he's laughing but I don't need the nod to know I'm right. Our choices in football teams was always an argument between us.

“Where is the one place Sophie goes when she wants to be left alone?” I know he knows the answer to this.

“Grant Park.” What the hell? He knows that's not where I like to go. He knows that when I'm pissed off or needing to write I go to the Shedd Aquarium and sit downstairs near the dolphin tank. He knows this because he's usually the reason I was pissed off enough to spend $15 on admission nearly once a week. I shake my head.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask him harshly.

“Now, Sophie, we need to be constructive in order for this to work. Just because Adam doesn't know an answer doesn't mean you need to be upset with him,” Dr. Mellon cuts in. I'm ready to shove a melon up his you-know-what. “Adam, go on.”

This time, Adam's looking at me as he speaks. “I love that when I would come home from a game, win or lose, she would know what to say. I love her way with words.”

My way with words is going to fucking kill him the next time he gets an answer wrong. He knows I hate compliments. I refuse to give him any.

“What was the first gift Adam asked you for for Christmas?”

“He never asked me for anything.” Adam nods. And it's true―Adam never wanted anything from me. It took me a birthday and an anniversary to get him to accept that I would get him presents even if he told me not to.

“What is the one thing Sophie wants more than anything?” If he doesn't say a child I'll kill him. I will cold-blooded murder his ass with my own bare hands, right here in front of this crazy doctor. Because if he doesn't say a child I'll know for sure that he's saying the wrong answers on purpose.

“A house in the suburbs.” I don't nod. I don't shake. I explode.

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” I scream at him. “Is this some kind of joke to you? Are you trying to be cute? Because you're not being cute―you're being a douche! Of course you won't take this seriously. You never take anything seriously, Adam, and that's your fucking problem. You know what I want more than anything and you've known that since before we got married. You know I want kids. You know I hate the suburbs. I know you never wanted kids with me and you'd rather sleep with over thirty other women, but you know what, Adam? It's time to get serious. I'm pregnant and it's yours. It's time to man the fuck up because I am done dealing with your bullshit.”

I grab my purse and throw the pillow supporting my back at Adam, storming out of the office, but not before hearing Adam say I love that she sees right through me as the door slams.


“And you're one hundred percent positive that it's Adam's baby?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“The doctor said I'm almost five weeks. I was in Dallas five weeks ago.”

“You need to tell Brody.”

“You think I don't know that?”

“He's going to be okay with it.”

“How do you know?”

“It's Brody, Sophie. He loves you. He proposed to you knowing that you're still married. There's nothing that guy won't do for you.”

“I hate it when you're right, Ab.”


When Brody told me earlier today that he wanted to take me out for dinner I knew I was going to tell him at the restaurant. He's not one for causing a scene and even though I know he won't cause one anyway I don't want to risk it. If I tell him in public there is no risk. I've spent most of my day in sweatpants watching the The Nanny and eating cheese popcorn out of a tin. I've had it saved since Christmas because it's my favorite and figured that I should probably eat it considering it's seven months later. The fourth of July is in three days and Brody and I have plans to go up to his family's lake house in Green Lake. There's a possibility that I'll run into Adam at some point up there because it's near Madison where he'll more than likely be spending the holiday with his family. If Brody and I are still together in three days, I mean.

By the time four o'clock rolls around and I've gotten in the shower, the tears have started flowing faster than the drops of water from the shower head. It really is the same shit on a different day. How could I have been so stupid as to sleep with Adam again? What happened to my plan of being a complete and utter bitch as to turn him away for good? I hear the front door close and lock and quickly wash my face to get rid of any redness. It's an attempt to hide the evidence even though I know Brody isn't going to join me in the shower. He's not spontaneous like that. Adam and I had plenty of shower sex, so much so that it actually became my favorite kind of sex. But I'm not with Adam anymore, regardless of what the bun in my oven has to say about it.



Brody chooses to take me to RPM Italian, owned and somewhat operated by his business partner Bill. We could eat for free thanks to our friendship with one third of the owners but we always pay as a compliment to the chef. The place is packed when we arrive―as it usually is on Thursday nights―and we're escorted to the back of the restaurant where the VIP tables are. I stop Brody before he can order a bottle of wine and order myself a kiddie cocktail. He looks at me strangely and orders a glass of Sangria for himself.

“Are you feeling alright?” he asks me in a voice edged with concern.

I shake my head, “My stomach is still bothering me.”

“Maybe you caught the flu from an airport,” he suggests nonchalantly. Poor guy doesn't know what's about to hit him. I shrug as if to say maybe and glance down at the menu even though I order the same thing every time we come here. “Then again, it could be the baby.”

I'm glad my drink hasn't arrived because if it had I would have spit it out in surprise. My eyes grow wide and I look at him in fear. Does he know it's not his baby? He has to know. Right?

“Um. What?” I respond, still in shock.

“Your doctor called the house this morning to ask me about something for the new wing at the hospital and mentioned briefly that you went to see her earlier in the week. She offered me her sincerest congratulations and asked why I didn't attend the first consultation.” He looks at me from across the table and I see sadness in his eyes. “Why didn't I attend the first consultation?”

“I...um...” My mind is blank and my thoughts are at a standstill. I wasn't expecting to be caught off guard. My plan was to order our food and ease the way into that conversation, not be bombarded with questions two minutes after walking in the door. “Um, Brody, I...” Before I can speak, Bill walks over to our table and greets me with a side hug and Brody with a hand shake.

“How is it going, guys?” he asks sweetly. A large smile is on his face, bright enough to light up the dimly lit restaurant.

“Hey, Bill,” replies Brody. “Everything is great. As usual. You've really got a nice place here.”

He's lying. Brody only comes here because it's Bill's investment. He always complains afterwards of the high prices and small plates. I then explain to him that we could eat for free and we don't have to eat there all the time. My comments are usually met with a condescending stare and we always end up coming back.

“Great! I'm glad to hear it. Soph,” Bill says and turns his attention to me. “You look fantastic tonight. Brody is a lucky man.” I smile and nod in return, still too shook up about Brody's knowledge of my pregnancy to say anything out loud. “Well, I should go mingle with the other guests. Gotta keep up appearances. I'll see you guys later!” Bill waves and walks away to another VIP table leaving an awkward silence between Brody and I.

Our drinks come and it's still silent between us. By the time we order our food, I've finally come up with something to say. It's completely different than what I had intended on admitting but I'm too thrown off to admit my faults tonight.

“I wanted to make sure,” I say, dropping my fork into my plate and making it clink. I wipe the sides of my mouth with a napkin and continue. “I wanted to make sure I was really pregnant before I got your hopes up. I know how badly you want kids and couldn't stand for you to be disappointed if something happened.”

The sad part about the lie is I'm actually starting to believe it myself.


I called in sick to the appointment with Dr. Mellon this morning because I can't stand the thought of seeing Adam right now. Brody and I were supposed to leave for Wisconsin at three but are already half way there and it's only one thanks to my canceling. I'm sure Adam wouldn't have shown up anyway.

“I hope it's a girl,” Brody says. He's smiling like a goon and it instantly makes me feel like shit. “I hope she looks just like her mommy.” He reaches over the center console and grabs my hand to intertwine our fingers. My ring sparkles in the hot July sun and its beauty makes me want to cry because I've ruined everything.

“I just want a healthy baby,” I tell him honestly. That and for all of this to go away.

I have always wanted children. I want the pain of labor and I want the “benefits” that come afterwards―the dirty diapers, the constant screaming. The terrible twos. I want to shop at Babies R Us for myself instead of my coworkers or my cousins. I want a baby shower grander than the royal wedding. I want to be a mom better than the one I was given. But for the last three days I've been thinking about it and I don't want kids with Brody. Not at all. Deep in my heart, hidden under all the hatred and disgust I still hold for Adam, I am glad that I'm carrying his baby.

As fucked up as that is.

We're the first to arrive at his parent's vacation house and it's eerily quiet. Their house is surrounded by cornfields that belong to their Amish neighbors, Sarah and John. Across the street is an abandoned toolshed that once belonged to a homeless man named Sam who died last winter. Or so I'm told. Down the street, within walking distance, is a cemetery from the 1800s in which most of the graves are unmarked. Brody and I explored there back in March when we took a trip up here to relax and found one that simply read “Carrie” and I've been too scared to go back there since. His parents recently added a porch to the side of the house and expanded the garage to fit two boats instead of one; the old one they've given to their son, the new one is his dad's current toy. The front yard is nicely decorated with evergreen and cherry trees and the sidewalk is lined with yellow daisies throughout Spring and Summer. Beyond the cornfields, the lake sits on top of the horizon and makes you feel like you're closer to it than you are. In reality, it's about seven miles East but by looking at it from the backyard it seems like it's within small walking distance.

I'd be lying if I said I didn't love it up here.

“Babe?” Brody calls to me from the front porch. “My parents left a message on the answering machine. They won't be up until tomorrow.”

“So we've got the place to ourselves?” I smile at him. It's not a fake one, either. Spending quality time with Brody is going to be nice. Maybe I'll even muster up enough courage to be honest with him.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses my forehead, “No.” I don't try to hide the frown from appearing on my face. “My cousin Jennifer will be here in an hour with her husband and three kids. You remember Jen, right?”

Of course I remember Jennifer. She's probably the happiest person I've ever met and always has a smile on her face. I've never seen her mad or upset and every time her kids break a rule she doesn't yell at them or punish them, she simply hugs them until they either calm down or promise to never do it again. Brody's family gave her the nickname Sunshine long ago and there really isn't any doubt as to why.

“No,” I reply. “But I'm sure when I see her face I'll remember her.”

Brody laughs and kisses my forehead again with his arms still wrapped around me. A warm breeze engulfs us as we stand and for a moment I forget that I'm pregnant with another man's child. Until the other man calls me, that is.

Adam's ringtone in my phone hasn't changed since the day we got married: it's a quacking duck. There really isn't a story behind it, it's more of an insult than anything. Patrick Sharp is actually the one who changed it because he thought it would be funny to put my phone inside Abby's purse and call it during the ceremony. It was hilarious but I was pissed at him for a good two weeks. Brody doesn't know this, though, so I tell him Alisa is calling me and head inside the house for privacy.

“Hello?” I say sweetly even though I know I don't have to. Brody can't hear me through the closed doors so I really don't need to put on an act.

“Hey, listen. I have something I need to tell you.” There's a sense of urgency in Adam's tone and for a minute I'm concerned. That minute passes quickly.

“What's up?”

“My mom and dad, um, they kind of don't know about the divorce and keep asking me where you are so I kind of told them that you're on your way to their house.”

“What!?” I exclaim in the quietest voice that I can while still being dramatic. If Brody hears me yell, he'll come running. “Why the hell would you do that? I know you're stupid but come on, man, this proves any doubts wrong!”

“Sophie please! I can't tell them that I've failed at my marriage. I can't. Please just come up here. I promise I'll make it up to you. I'll go to those meetings and do whatever you want me to do so we can get this thing done as quickly as possible. I just need one more holiday. Not for me, for my parents. Please.”

“You're a dick,” I hiss and hang up on him. He knows I'll do anything for his parents because of how kind they've always been to me. What a fucking asshole.

I leave for Madison half an hour after Jennifer and the kids arrive. I tell Brody I left my swimsuit in Chicago and I'll be back in the morning before we're supposed to leave for the lake. When Jennifer tried to convince me to go to an outlet mall and buy a new one I protested, claiming I spent too much money on the one I left in the city. Brody bought the story―what reason did he have not to?―and I was on my way.

It's not that far of a drive to Adam's parent's house and I turn off the GPS about halfway there. I can navigate with my memory. He and I used to come up here to visit a lot. If he had a day off we would sometimes take a day trip and usually made it up at least once a month regardless of our schedules. Road trips with Adam were always fun and obnoxious, I can't tell you how many photos I have of us at the Mars Cheese Factory on the border or how many times he'd pull over to pee and I'd drive away, leaving him on the side of the road. We were idiots but we were in love. Then again, isn't everyone in love an idiot? Love makes you do very dumb things. Very dumb things. Take me for example. I'm in love, I'm an idiot, and I've done dumb things. These things can be blamed on things besides love, of course, but my heart playing tricks on me has made things one hundred times worse. Don't say I didn't warn you about the dangers of men, I'll tell my daughter one day. I'll warn her three thousand times and she will still fall in love. Do you know why? Because people are idiots and they do dumb things.

Before I know it I'm driving down the familiar twists and turns of the plush green suburban neighborhood trying not to stare at the children playing in their front yards and their mothers watching from porch swings. Soon that will be me, protecting my child from the dangers of the world. I'm ready for that. I always have been. What I'm not ready for is raising this child alone because, and I'm being honest here, I can't see Brody staying with me when I tell him it's not his baby. Abby says he loves me and will understand but I call bullshit. Brody has to have a backbone somewhere in that extremely caring, loveable body. Right?

Adam is sitting on the front steps when I pull into the driveway. I slam the car door (not in anger but in annoyance) and he walks towards me, pulling me into a hug when he reaches me.

“They're watching from the window,” he whispers into my ear. “Thank you, Sophie.”

I'm too tired and fed up to respond with words so instead I push myself away from him, look him in the eyes, and glare as softly as I can without sending his parents into a tizzy. This is definitely not how I imagined my holiday weekend.