Not Ready for Mom Jeans by Maureen Lipinski

Author:Maureen Lipinski [Lipinski, Maureen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780312537289
Publisher: Griffin
Published: 2010-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

My ego was still sailing this morning on the way to Sara’s day-care. I mentally planned the entire sure-to-be-elegant-but-understated-and-full-of-years’-worth-of-gossip soiree at each stoplight.

I’d sit all of the Hollywood types around the venue, so as not to isolate them. I wondered if the event would be at Elise’s sprawling estate on the lake or some hip club in the city. Obviously, an enormous stocked bar with a signature cocktail and drink menus printed on custom-designed parchment paper. Just as I chose the table linens (eggshell, rather than standard white—too stark and traditional) and centerpieces (either an Asian twist with bamboo plants and hibiscus flowers or simple candelabras surrounded by floating gardenias), my cell phone rang.

Reese. I figured she’d been up for a few hours anyway with Brendan and wanted to lament about motherhood.

“Hey! What’s up?” I said cheerfully, very uncharacteristic for eight thirty.

“Clare,” she squeaked out.

“Reese, what’s wrong?”

I heard a few sniffles, then silence.

“Reese! Reese! Are you OK? What’s going on?”

“I did it,” she whispered into the phone. I could hear Grace babbling in the background and Brendan making gurgling noises, like a miniature troll.

“Did what?”

“Matt. I asked him to move out.” Her voice squeaked like a mouse.

I immediately pulled my car over, nearly sideswiping an old woman in a red Camry who was so busy shaking her fist at me that she nearly rear-ended the car in front of her.

“Oh my God! Are you OK? What happened?”

“We hadn’t spoken in almost three days, and this morning, he turned to leave without saying good-bye to the kids. So I just snapped. I didn’t raise my voice; I didn’t yell. I just simply told him I didn’t think it was working and I would like him to move out, but I was willing to still work on things.”

“Oh, honey,” I said, and rested my head on the steering wheel.

“I’m fine, I’ll be OK.” She cleared her throat and sniffled.

“What did he say?” I said.

“He didn’t really say anything. He just stared at me for a while and then said, ‘If that’s what you want,’ and walked out the door.”

Such. An. Asshole.

If I married Reese, I’d swim across shark-infested waters during a hurricane to keep her.

“What can I do?” Sara began to cry in the backseat. I reached my hand back and grabbed her car seat and awkwardly tried to rock her without dislocating my shoulder.

“Nothing. I’m great. Don’t worry about me. I know you need to get to work.” Her voice cracked in between words, as though worrying about her was a lost cause.

“No, Reese, this is more important than—,” I started to say.

“Just call me after work,” she said.

“Reese—”

“Clare. Please,” she said.

“OK, I’ll call you later.” I hung up, my fingers shaking.

I started to pull back onto the road, toward Sara’s day-care and work. I went about ten feet before I pulled my car over again. I snapped open my phone and dialed Christina’s extension and left a message letting her know I was taking a personal day off. She didn’t

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