Rewrite the Stars by Christina Consolino (classic fiction TXT) 📗

time between two houses, but we live less than a mile apart, and we have two sets of everything. A bit of an expense, but it works for us. Makes the best of a shitty situation.”

Andrew had no idea what he’d touched on with his “shitty situation” comment. While I once believed living together but not being together would be easy, our situation had turned not only shitty but also fucked-up. Sadie wanted little to do with me, and I’d become confused about my future, our future.

“Yep, I get it.”

After placing our orders with the server, Andrew shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the chair. “What about you? Kids? Wife?”

How much to tell? “Yes to the kids, and it’s complicated to the wife. We’re at a point that, well, we’re fine, but fine isn’t what either of us want.”

“Fair enough. Moving on?”

I nodded my head. “Moving on.”

Andrew and I chatted and whittled away the time. We spoke about the responsibilities of owning a business, the monotony of jobs in general, and the antics of our kids, though I was careful not to name mine. Somehow, being a dad changed my outlook. I never would have thought I’d be exchanging stories like I’d heard moms do, but there we were, swapping memories like we were showing off scars or tattoos. Against the backdrop of laughter and a news program, we covered a lot of ground, and I made sure to stay on this side of vague. He didn’t need details about the PTSD or my trips to see Doc.

“So how long have you been divorced?” I asked.

“Going on three years.”

“And how is that? I mean, I never thought I’d get married much less divorced, and now—well, how is it?”

Andrew didn’t pry; he answered the question between bites of his burger, which, I had to say, looked all right. The fish and chips were tasty; almost as good as Sadie’s.

“It was difficult at first—my kids mean the world to me,” he said. “But owning my company helps—when I need to take time off, I can. And my relationship with my ex-wife is as amicable as it can be. Now, I haven’t dated anyone yet, but I’m sure that would change things.”

Dating was a topic I had no intention of touching with Andrew. This wasn’t some Hallmark movie. But the redness of his face told me something. Like there was someone he was interested in. And that thought had me picturing Sadie and her smile and the way I used to be the luckiest man alive, and the spiral swirled from there: my incessant fury at the station I held in life, my inability to do the job I had trained long and hard to do, the extreme probability my home life would be changing sooner rather than later. It was all too much.

“Andrew, you know what? I’m not feeling great right now, so I’m going to head out.” I grabbed my check and left a tip on the table. “But let’s chat if another project comes up, if that’s good for you.”

“Sure thing. Hope you’re all right.” Once more, his gaze darted to my hands.

The din of the silverware against the plates and the incessant chattering of the diners chipped away at my nerves. “I will be. Lots of long days lately. Thanks for meeting up with me.”

Andrew tipped his chin up. “Anytime. I’m sure you’ll be okay soon.”

I would be okay; deep inside my brain I trusted that. But what would make everything else okay? And, I wanted more than the word “okay” to describe my life.

Chapter 15: Sadie

 

Talking to Theo that evening took top priority on my to-do list, after washing the dishes and putting the kids to bed. Usually, we had a couple hours to sit with each other. When we were still together, we’d watch a movie, read poetry to each other, or even play card games until we knew the kids were asleep, and then we’d sneak up the stairs, giggling like young lovers, barely making it to the bedroom before we removed each other’s clothing and became lost in one another.

Times had changed. I crept toward the back room, expecting to encounter Theo in the recliner, watching one sport or another, but instead, he sprawled on the couch, fast asleep, bandages on his hands. He hadn’t been home at dinnertime; I had no idea how his day had gone or what he’d done to drain his energy, but those bandages...they spoke volumes.

After turning off the television, I sat next to him, taking care not to wake him, and looked at him in his moment of peace. When he slept, he resembled a child, like the Theo I first met. The dark shadows under his eyes and the light stubble on his chin weren’t as apparent in the muted lighting of the family room, and his eyes shifted underneath his eyelids. Was he dreaming, and if so, about what? Did he envision images of his former self? Or was he dreaming of what was to come? Pleasant dreams would be better than nightmares, but I wasn’t sure he’d tell me if I asked him.

I reached for Theo’s hand and placed my cool fingers into his lukewarm ones. His grip tightened reflexively against mine, and for a moment, a connection tethered us. Tears formed at the back of my eyes, and I clenched my eyelids shut, willing the tears away, uttering a silent wish that the strength to do what was right might infuse me. Amid my murmurs to myself, Theo woke up and blinked his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispered, attempting to grip my hand even tighter.

“Hey,” I said back to him. “We need to talk about what happened this morning, don’t you think? And this?” I lifted his hand between us.

“Yeah.” Theo shifted against the couch, straining to move himself into a sitting position, never letting go of my hand. He pulled me close to his body, my head up against his shoulder, and