The Opened Box That Shattered My Seven-Year Marriage

"That box of condoms? I bought it. Three-pack. We used one, and the other two were for next time. Didn't expect you to find them."

Her eyes curved into a smile.

"He told me you two hadn't slept together in three years. I didn't believe him. A man that good, how could you stand to let him go cold like that?"

I looked at her.

"What's your point?"

She stepped back and looked me up and down, something almost like pity in her eyes.

"Nothing. Just wanted to see what the woman he married seven years ago looked like." She smiled. "Not much to see."

She turned and walked away.

After a few steps, she glanced back.

"Oh, one more thing. He asked me to pass along a message."

"He said he signed the divorce papers. The kid's yours. But his mom says the boy is a Fox, and you need to let them take him for two days every week. Otherwise, she'll take you to court."

She finished, popped open her umbrella, and strolled off.

I stood in the sun until my eyes ached from the glare.

That night, I called Cole.

He picked up. It was quiet on his end.

"You sent your girlfriend to come find me?"

A pause.

"She told me about it. She's just childish like that. Don't take it personally."

I listened to those words and almost laughed.

Seven years ago, he'd said the same thing about her. She's just like that. Don't take it personally.

Seven years later, different woman, same line.

"Childish?" I said. "How old is she?"

He didn't answer.

A few seconds passed. Then he said, "About our son. My mom did say that. Just let her take him two days a week. It's not like it'll inconvenience you."

"No," I said.

He paused.

"Hilary, don't be like this."

"Like what?"

"Just..." He seemed to struggle for words. "Can't you give a little? My mom's getting up there in years. It's normal for her to miss her grandson. Do you really have to fight her on everything?"

I held the phone and said nothing.

He went on. "Yolanda coming to see you today was wrong of her. But she was just jealous, wanted to see what you looked like. She didn't mean any harm. Why make a big deal out of it?"

Jealous.

Didn't mean any harm.

"Cole," I said.

"Yeah?"

"You told her we hadn't slept together in three years?"

Silence on the other end.

A long silence.

"She asked," he said quietly. "I just said it without thinking."

I hung up.

The next day, I received a court summons.

Cole's mother was suing me for a change in custody. The grounds: I was unfit to raise a child. Extreme temperament, emotional instability, violent tendencies.

The evidence was a video. Laurel had filmed our argument outside the courthouse.

The summons arrived on a day I was grocery shopping with my son.

He sat in the shopping cart, pointing at a bag of chips on the shelf. "Mommy, I want that one." I grabbed a bag. "Mommy, I want two." I told him no, too many would upset his stomach. He pouted, but his eyes stayed glued to the chips.

I was pushing the cart toward the register when my phone rang. An unfamiliar number. Someone from the court, notifying me of the hearing date.

I stood by the checkout counter and listened to the whole thing. Then I slipped the phone back into my pocket and scanned my items.

My son sat in the back seat eating his chips, crunching away. I drove, and at a red light I glanced in the rearview mirror. He was completely absorbed, crumbs all over his face.

Cole's mother wanted him.

I thought back to right after I'd given birth. She came to the hospital, took one look, said he looked like her son, then asked if I had enough milk. I said yes. She said good, don't let the baby go hungry. Then she left.

She hadn't come to help for a single day when I was in postpartum recovery.

Now she wanted my son.

The weekend before the hearing, Cole called me.

I picked up. Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Then he said, "About my mom's thing. I tried talking her out of it. Didn't work."

I said oh.

He went on. "She hired a lawyer. Spent a lot of money. There's nothing I can do."

I said oh.

He went quiet again.

"Do you... have a lawyer?"

I said no.

He paused.

"Then what are you going to do?"

"Show up to court," I said. "Let the judge decide."

He didn't say anything.

A few seconds passed. "What if I find one for you? I know a lawyer who specializes in divorce cases. She's pretty good."

I held the phone and stared out the window.

My son was in the living room, stacking blocks into a tall tower. He knocked it over with one swipe and giggled to himself.

"Cole, do you think I'm stupid?"

He froze.

"No, I was just—"

"Your girlfriend showed up at my door, and you said she was just being childish. Your mother is suing me for custody, and you say there's nothing you can do. Now you want to find me a lawyer." I took a breath. "Whose side are you on?"

Nothing.

"Don't call me again. You've got your place to stand. I've got my own road to walk."