Page 1 of Catching Our Moment

Kelcie

My alarm hadn’t gone off.

It hadn’t gone off because it was missing…along with my husband.

He packed the cheap Amazon Prime special with his other essential belongings, told me he’d fallen in love, and was leaving me. “I have a chance to be happy, Kelcie.”

As if my life with him was filled with rainbows and sunshine.

In the drop-off line at my son’s school, I realized I’d rather relive middle school with a bad fashion sense, uncontrollable acne, and braces.

That was my new low.

I didn’t even have the energy to laugh at the absurdity as I inched up to the entrance.

I didn’t have any energy because I also had no coffee.

The prick snuck out with the coffeemaker too. Amber—the love of his life—had previously bragged to everyone in the neighborhood about her $800 latte machine from Williams-Sonoma—she didn’t need our Keurig.

I was more upset about her having my Keurig than my prick of a husband.

Whatever. I gritted my teeth…Great, I forgot to brush them.

There was no coffee or shower, so I checked the console for a piece of gum or a mint in a vain attempt to seem somewhat civilized.

I wore my tie-dye Crocs and my University of Maryland sweatshirt that was so faded it was taffy pink instead of red. Finishing off my ensemble were the flannel Christmas pajamas I’d bought years ago as part of a matching set for our brag-and-gag Christmas card.

Look, we’re so happy. Nothing is wrong. We’re wearing matching pjs, for Christ’s sake. How could my husband be carrying on an emotional affair if we’re all wearing the same pjs?

Our picture-perfect family. Gone.

“Kelcie, are you still there?” Grace’s—one of my oldest and dearest friends—voice came through the AirPods I was wearing to keep our conversation from being overheard by my twelve-year-old son, Aaron, in the backseat.

I peered in the rearview mirror and adjusted my cheap, oversized Jackie O-style sunglasses, which gave my messy bun a more purposeful and stylish look rather than the “just-rolled-out-of-bed” and unbrushed truth-of-the-matter.

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Aaron sat in the backseat with his headphones on, an accessory that had become a necessity to block out the noise from an overwhelming world.

Could I get away with that for a few days? Could I walk around with massive headphones and listen to audiobooks about fictional lives?

“I just conferenced in Aliya,” Grace said.

“Hey, Kelce. How are you holding up, honey?” Aliya Rae Chopra’s crisp voice was laced with unusual warmth and sympathy.

She and Grace Madison had been my best friends forever.

Aliya Rae was Bollywood beguiling with the mind of a wolf on Wall Street.

Grace was the natural girl-next-door beauty.

She was a romantic who wanted a happily ever after for everyone, even though she lost Tyler before they could start their future together, and now mourned him like a widow over a decade later.

In my current state of mind, I didn’t want to talk to either of them. I just wanted to brood, grumble about the sloths and their snowflakes in the drop-off line before me, and go back to bed.

I inched my car up another two feet in line, my heavy head propped up by the arm leaning against the door.

Aliya’s assertive tone demanded my attention. “Kelcie, what is going on? Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine. Except, the jackass needs to shop for small appliances somewhere besides our house. I know he knows how to shop on Amazon. He still has access to our Prime membership.”

“Um…okay?—”

“He is in love with our neighbor, a woman named Amber Savory.” I gave the name a bit of a fake, cheerful lilt. “And he’s moving out so he can date her without guilt.”

Predictably, Aliya’s response was thick with sarcasm. “Amber Savory—is that for real?”

“Yep.”

“Sounds like a stripper name,” Aliya said.

“Aliya, that’s not—” Grace tried to keep things proper.

“Screw that, Gracie.” Aliya wasn’t proper. “So you’re saying that he wants to move out so he can date her. He’s not screwing her?”

“Oh, no. He’s a stand-up kind of guy,” I deadpanned.

“He informed me they’ve only been secretly meeting the next town over for coffee and drinks for months .

” I gave my words dramatic effect to convey how selfless James was in laying this out for me—yes, my snark and sarcasm were running high.

“They’ve been going out of their way to save my feelings, and it doesn’t define an affair because he hasn’t actually fu—” I glanced in the rearview mirror to check on Aaron and questioned the noise-canceling effect of the headphones.

I lowered my voice. “Regardless, he thinks everything he’s done so far has been fair, and I have no right to be upset. ”

“He’s ending your marriage and thinks you should be okay with it?” Even level-headed Grace seemed put off by this conclusion.

I shrugged as if she could see me as I pulled into the roundabout that led to the front of the school.

As a carefully choreographed dance, minivans and SUVs stopped, kids spilled out with their bags, and doors slammed as they walked up the sidewalk leading to the school entrance.

The cars drove off, and another set of cars moved up.

That was until…Serina Shiffner and her son, her special snowflake.

This was not the day I wanted to be stuck behind them.

I slammed my hand on the steering wheel. Was there such a thing as drop-off line rage?

As Aliya and Grace outlined all the ways we could get away with maiming my soon-to-be ex-husband without being caught, the woman in front of me exited her car.

She opened the passenger door, chauffeur style, for her very capable seventh grader.

She grabbed his lunch and musical instrument, handed them to him, and then—wait for it—hugged him before he walked away from the car and closed the door.

With a slew of other cars waiting for her to move her designer yoga pants-wearing butt, she stood there and watched him leave.

Then she waved before casually getting back in her SUV with a goddamn smile on her face, as if it were their first day of kindergarten, not a Wednesday in April.

Nope. I was done. Four-letter words exploded as I lost control of my mouth and mind. As my hand reached for the horn, a far steadier one landed on my shoulder and settled me.

Once again, I knew that even the most effective noise-canceling headphones couldn’t keep Aaron from hearing me. His ultra-sensitive hearing was his superpower, his curse, and sometimes my burden.

I turned my head and peered into the same eyes as mine. “It’s okay, Mom. Relax.”

The administrator knocked on my window and motioned me forward. I pulled the car up as Aaron undid his seatbelt, ready to do our part in the drop-off dance.

Through my earbuds, Grace said, “Tell your boy Auntie Gracie loves him.”

“And his Auntie Aliya,” Aliya interjected.

He opened the back door and jumped out, slamming the door behind him.

“Aunt Grace and Aliya said to have a good day,” I shouted, but he’d already been herded into the pack heading into the school.

“Is he gone?” Aliya asked conspiratorially, ready to move on with more James bashing.

With a quick check in my rearview mirror, I put the car in drive?—

“Oh, crap!”

Aaron’s lunch bag was dead center in the backseat.

If Aaron realized he’d forgotten his lunch, that simple change in his routine would unravel his morning. Even if I brought it into the office afterward, it would throw off his routine, which could spiral through the rest of the day.

Not today. God, help me. I couldn’t deal with a call from the school today.

“What? What is it?” Grace said.

Hard stop. I leaned over the passenger seat, and my eyes darted around for Aaron as he approached the entrance.

The administrator was two car lengths ahead and not close enough for me to flag down.

“Son of a bitch.” I threw the car in park and cursed like a sailor as I took off my seatbelt, reached behind me, grabbed the lunch, and threw open my car door.

Grace’s voice cut out as I ran in my tie-dyed Crocs and not-meant-for-public ensemble, passing the line of cars up the sidewalk and to the school entrance, waving the lunch bag at my son like a surrender flag.

“Aaron, your lunch!”

I practically horse-collared my baby boy, tugging on his backpack to get his attention, and shoved the lunch in his hands. Without a hug, additional words, or an awkward goodbye, I walked out of the school with all the moxie I could manage.

…and only one earbud in my ear.

I grabbed my empty ear for the missing earbud, wishing for it to appear before feeling around my sweatshirt and retracing my steps back to the car.

There it was…about ten feet away from my car. Oh good. It looked undamaged. But wait. Why was there a crowd gathered around my car? Administrators, teachers, and even parents from other cars had gotten out and were coming close.

My face burned as I approached, and I was positive I would be publicly flayed for violating the car-rider line protocol.

“I’m so sorry…” I scooped up the missing earbud off the ground, taking the other out of my ear and tucking both safely in my Christmas pajama pockets. No one was paying attention, and there weren’t any snarky remarks or even dirty looks.

Grace’s and Aliya’s voices blared from my open car door through my car speakers like a female-centric, girlfriends-giving-it-to-you-straight style podcast.

“So let me get this straight…” Aliya was ramping up. “A stripper named Amber Saaavory,” she drew out the name with exaggerated, comedic enunciation, “tempts your husband into an affair, tells him she won’t fuck him unless he leaves you?—”

“Aliya, there’s no need to be so crass,” Grace countered.

“Girl, there is some sketchy shit of what defines sex going on there. He’s getting something from her besides a coffee date.” Aliya didn’t do tame or censored when she got going. And she was just warming up.

I scrambled toward my car and tripped past the wide-eyed administrator, afraid of what would come from Aliya’s mouth. Maybe I should have mentioned that Amber was the beloved PTA president and knew everyone in the school and neighborhood.

It also would’ve helped if I hadn’t had their voices broadcasting out of my car speakers.

“Kelce. Let Savory Amber have that pencil dick,” Grace said.

I rounded the car, almost face-planting when I misjudged the step off the curb.

I dove into the car and started pushing all the buttons on my dash, trying to disconnect my call. “Do we need to come down there?”

I grabbed my phone and pushed multiple buttons before it disconnected, and then I closed my car door to lock out the world.

Cue the horns and shouting from the parents behind me.

The entertainment I provided to liven up their morning was over, and now, I was Kelcie Byron, the pathetic woman whose husband left her on a promise of sex with the PTA president—and I was ruining the car-rider line.

I needed caffeine. I needed a new life.