The Best Bad Thing

The delayed divorce involved no rancor and no shortage of money, yet Amanda suffered every measly change as a profound disruption. For all the blessings bestowed upon her by her well-connected and endlessly helpful (eventually ex-) in-laws, her daily responsibilities demanded more patience and juggling skill than she would have guessed were hers to summon.

[Click here to read the first episode, or here to read the previous one.]

Carolyn quickly set up an interview for Amanda with the Oak Park River Forest’s school district, which for the time being involved an hour’s drive. Yet assistant to the CFO was a perfect job and once she arranged a move, Oak Park was just where she wanted to live with the girls. Ten days later the search committee chairwoman offered her the position, stipulating that she must start right away to help hire her in-coming boss. 

The real estate agency gladly let her go: in this market, the fewer agents the better.

She prepared to sell their house, but Mike objected to putting it on the market in such a depressed economy. He would, however, float Amanda a hefty down payment, and they could settle the difference when the house finally sold.

After she switched jobs, Mike couldn’t visit her during lunch. But Saturdays for an hour and a half, Evie took swimming lessons at the Y and DeeDee took toddler dance class at a studio across the street. She hurried to settle the girls in their activities and sped home where Mike was waiting, shades drawn.

For the time being, Amanda counted on this guilty pleasure despite how Mike’s attitude bothered her.

“We’re so damn good at this,” he said. “We’re really good in bed together. You can’t dismiss that.”

“We’re reveling in ecstatic death throes,” she said. “Don’t dismiss that.” Every transport moved them closer to the last time.

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said. “Same as anything.”

“No, not the same. We’re over. And this’ll be over. Soon.”

His attempts to sulk as he raced out were almost comic. “I’ve ruined everything.” He wiped a wet wash cloth across his face. “Everything.”

So far—and Amanda accepted the blame here, or a good deal of it—Mike was getting all he could want and more. One look at him showed everything. He was flush and big and buoyant. By contrast, Amanda’s face appeared pinched and she was losing weight.

Further, Evie was suffering nightmares. When the six-year old fell asleep, she found herself alone in a house or car or classroom. She heard a clock ticking louder and louder until everything exploded. She woke up screaming, certain she was being burned alive.

Four-year old DeeDee hadn’t developed a catastrophic imagination yet. So she wet the bed as did many children her age, apparently. The pharmacies and grocery stores all sold overnight disposable diapers for kids her size and twice that.  DeeDee refused to wear them and Amanda didn’t blame her. Evie, though, screamed at her little sister, and taunted her for wetting the bed.

When Evie woke from a nightmare, she hopped into bed with her mother. Otherwise, she couldn’t sleep. Naturally, DeeDee, when woken from the screams, snuggled next to Amanda’s other side. The three of them slept a few hours before DeeDee’s seeping urine dampened and chilled the middle swath of the mattress.

They rinsed off in the tub, and while Amanda remade the bed, she recited “The Princess and the Pea.” Her girls fell instantly back asleep on fresh pillow cases, which they insisted Amanda change along with the sheets and blanket. Looking at them, Amanda ached before staring out the window to watch the sky lighten.

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