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Authors: Jennifer Handford
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Kate was at St. Agnes, the middle school, and Jake and Olivia were just down the road at Holy Angels. On my way, I called Lucy.
“I’m on my way to pick up the kids,” I told her. “Anything you want me to pass on?”
“I’ll call them later,” she said. “I have good coverage from here.” From here being the middle of New Zealand, nearly eight thousand miles away.
I squeezed the steering wheel, gritted my teeth. “I heard from your lawyer today,” I said. “She said we’ve satisfied the waiting period for the divorce and she’s ready to proceed.”
Lucy sighed. “Don’t act surprised, Joe. Don’t act like you didn’t know that was the direction we were headed in.”
“What about the kids? What about Katherine?”
“I’m ready for something new,” she said flatly, as though we were shopping for a new dishwasher and she suddenly decided on stainless steel rather than black.
“I didn’t know that was an option,” I said. “When we got married, I didn’t know we were allowed to just walk away because we wanted something new.”
“Don’t make me sound so one-dimensional, Joe,” Lucy said, raising her voice. “You know it’s not that simple. We’ve been through hell and back. I deserve a little peace.”
I pulled up to Holy Angels. “I’m here,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but her tone was anything but apologetic, the tone Olivia was famous for using when forced to apologize when her heart wasn’t in it.
“Yep,” I said. “Bye.”
Once all three kids were buckled up, we drove downtown to a brick medical building where Kate saw a counselor once a week. This year of middle school had been tough, but we were assured that much of that was normal. “Middle school is hard,” the school counselor told us. But then Lucy found a notebook of poems Kate had written. I’m disgusting in every way , a number of them began. That’s when we decided to seek outside help. Just in case there was more to be worried about than what was considered “normal.”
“She feels out of control,” the counselor had explained. “We just want to keep a handle on it. We don’t want it to escalate.”
I was to blame as much as anyone. First I was gone, deployed. Lucy told me how much Kate worried about me when I was away. “What if he’s killed? What if I never see Dad again?”
And since I had returned, her mother had essentially left, swept off with her new career, traveling to glamorous destinations every few weeks. And middle school was the biggest uncertainty of all. Kate didn’t stand a chance in that group of girls. She was smart and kind and loved her books and her journal. There had to be another girl like her. There had to be a way to make her feel not so alone.
At the end of Kate’s session, the counselor called me in. I was always included in the last ten minutes, so as to ensure we were all on the same page.
The counselor smiled at Kate. “It’s May—you’ve almost made it through your entire first year of middle school.” She clapped little claps. “What do you think the takeaway from that is? Any lessons learned to better equip you for next year?”
Kate shifted in her seat, stared toward the window. “I’d say the takeaway is to always save a round for yourself. Just in case you’re captured by cannibals or headhunters?”
“I beg your pardon?” the counselor asked.
“That’s what the soldiers were told to do in World War II,” Kate said. “That’s kind of how I feel about middle school.”
“Kate!” I said sternly. “Are you being funny, or is there truth to what you’re saying?” Being smart was one thing. Being a smart aleck was another.
She flashed me a half smile. “Just being funny, Dad,” she said. “Can we go?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is a photo on my mantel of Dad and me. It has been there since I moved into my town house a decade ago. Before that, it occupied space on Dad’s mantel. In the photo, we are standing in front of the
“I’m on my way to pick up the kids,” I told her. “Anything you want me to pass on?”
“I’ll call them later,” she said. “I have good coverage from here.” From here being the middle of New Zealand, nearly eight thousand miles away.
I squeezed the steering wheel, gritted my teeth. “I heard from your lawyer today,” I said. “She said we’ve satisfied the waiting period for the divorce and she’s ready to proceed.”
Lucy sighed. “Don’t act surprised, Joe. Don’t act like you didn’t know that was the direction we were headed in.”
“What about the kids? What about Katherine?”
“I’m ready for something new,” she said flatly, as though we were shopping for a new dishwasher and she suddenly decided on stainless steel rather than black.
“I didn’t know that was an option,” I said. “When we got married, I didn’t know we were allowed to just walk away because we wanted something new.”
“Don’t make me sound so one-dimensional, Joe,” Lucy said, raising her voice. “You know it’s not that simple. We’ve been through hell and back. I deserve a little peace.”
I pulled up to Holy Angels. “I’m here,” I said.
“I’m sorry,” she said, but her tone was anything but apologetic, the tone Olivia was famous for using when forced to apologize when her heart wasn’t in it.
“Yep,” I said. “Bye.”
Once all three kids were buckled up, we drove downtown to a brick medical building where Kate saw a counselor once a week. This year of middle school had been tough, but we were assured that much of that was normal. “Middle school is hard,” the school counselor told us. But then Lucy found a notebook of poems Kate had written. I’m disgusting in every way , a number of them began. That’s when we decided to seek outside help. Just in case there was more to be worried about than what was considered “normal.”
“She feels out of control,” the counselor had explained. “We just want to keep a handle on it. We don’t want it to escalate.”
I was to blame as much as anyone. First I was gone, deployed. Lucy told me how much Kate worried about me when I was away. “What if he’s killed? What if I never see Dad again?”
And since I had returned, her mother had essentially left, swept off with her new career, traveling to glamorous destinations every few weeks. And middle school was the biggest uncertainty of all. Kate didn’t stand a chance in that group of girls. She was smart and kind and loved her books and her journal. There had to be another girl like her. There had to be a way to make her feel not so alone.
At the end of Kate’s session, the counselor called me in. I was always included in the last ten minutes, so as to ensure we were all on the same page.
The counselor smiled at Kate. “It’s May—you’ve almost made it through your entire first year of middle school.” She clapped little claps. “What do you think the takeaway from that is? Any lessons learned to better equip you for next year?”
Kate shifted in her seat, stared toward the window. “I’d say the takeaway is to always save a round for yourself. Just in case you’re captured by cannibals or headhunters?”
“I beg your pardon?” the counselor asked.
“That’s what the soldiers were told to do in World War II,” Kate said. “That’s kind of how I feel about middle school.”
“Kate!” I said sternly. “Are you being funny, or is there truth to what you’re saying?” Being smart was one thing. Being a smart aleck was another.
She flashed me a half smile. “Just being funny, Dad,” she said. “Can we go?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
There is a photo on my mantel of Dad and me. It has been there since I moved into my town house a decade ago. Before that, it occupied space on Dad’s mantel. In the photo, we are standing in front of the
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