Saturday, April 28, 2018

Why Do I Want It?--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Monday, May 6

     Blake and I planned to play nine holes early this morning, but it took me forever to get him out of bed. Knowing it would conflict with my phone meetings, one to discuss doing social media for the Kabbalah Center, and another with Yosef, I started a round with him at eleven-thirty. As we walked to the third hole, I called the media coordinator and chatted with her for ten minutes. An hour later, l called Yosef from a fairway. Blake stomped up to me angrily.
     “Really? Are you kidding me? You can’t do this.”
     I pulled a hybrid out of my bag and took a half-assed swing.
     “Mom,” Blake yelled. “There are people behind us. Get off the phone and play. You’re being rude.”
     “My son got home from college yesterday and we’re playing golf,” I told Yosef. “I thought I’d be done playing by now, but my son didn’t get out of bed early enough.” I narrowed my eyes at Blake. “He’s telling me I’m being rude. I’m new to golf. I’m sorry. Do you have openings later?”
     Yosef scheduled me for five-thirty and Blake and I finished playing. I hit a lot better after the lesson with Golf Guy.
     “You’re looking really good Mom,” Blake said as we ate lunch. “You need to work on your short game now. Tell the guy you’re having a lesson with to work on chipping, using your wedges.”
     “I’ll mention it.”
     I drove to the course where I was having my second lesson with Golf Guy. I dropped my clubs by the range and found a secluded spot to call Yosef. I love Yosef. He always sounds thrilled to hear from me. His smile is audible.
     “You’re moving to a new phase now,” Yosef said excitedly. “You’re connecting to the next level. Your vessel is built to receive, but it’s also ready to share more now. What do you want? This is the best time to ask yourself, ‘What do I want? Why do I want it? How much do I want it?’ If, for example, you want a new relationship, is it about sharing or all about you? Ask, ‘What’s my ability to affect change in others? How much is this about making a difference in the lives of others?’ Ask, ‘What do I need to do on a daily basis to do this, to connect to more light? How can I expand my vessel? What are the tools I can use to expand it?’
     “Schedule a time to scan the Zohar every day,” Yosef said. “Do it at a specific time every morning. You can vary what you scan, where you scan. But talk to the light. What do you want today? Once a week, scan after midnight, maybe on a Saturday night when you can sleep in the next morning. Keep to a schedule. Don’t just scan whenever because then you won’t do it regularly.”
     I walked to the driving range. Golf Guy was waiting for me. He said I was still not hinging my wrists correctly so he tweaked my grip and had me practice hitting down, ripping up chunks of grass. To stop me from hovering over the ball and running through a mental checklist, he started yelling “Now,” and making me hit the ball on command. I was hitting better by the end of it.
     “You want to practice for a while?” he asked.
     “Just hit with your eight iron, your driver, and your wedges. The next time we’ll work on your short game. Your short game is sixty-five percent of your game. Most people come here and just smash the ball. Oh, and I want to cash in that dinner rain check.” He hugged me and drove off in his cart.

Tuesday, April 24, 2018

Black And Blue--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Sunday, May 5

     I emailed my cowboy friend, Frank, and asked when I could move cattle around with him. The last time we spoke was a year-and-a-half ago, right after my accident on BlackJack. Frank told me to get rid of that horse and he’d find me a new one. But I loved BlackJack and couldn’t get rid of him. Instead, my friend, Kaitlin, bought me a lesson with her trainer and I got back on him with my broken nose, stitched lip, and black-and-blue face. The trainer tried not to stare when we met.
     Frank’s daughter emailed me back. Frank died of a heart attack weeks after we’d spoken. He was fifty-nine. I sat on the couch and cried. I called Kaitlin. I hadn’t seen or ridden with her since last fall. We went for a ride. As we headed down the trail, Kaitlin told me her father died, her dog died, and she and her husband were not doing well. We hit golf balls at the driving range afterward.
     “You seeing anyone?” she asked.
     “No. Well, this golf instructor gave me a free lesson and is giving me another one tomorrow. We’ve been texting each other, but I don’t know if it’s anything.”
     Kaitlin got a big smile on her face.
     “I know. The divorcee and the golf pro. Cliché, right? And too soon for anything.”
     “No. You were unhappy for years. I think you’re probably ready.”
     My purse vibrated. I pulled out my phone.
     “Ha, that’s him,” I laughed.

     “How was your day?” Golf Guy texted. “Did you ride?”

     “I did. Good ride. At the driving range with my riding buddy now. We still meeting tomorrow? How was your day?”

     “My only opening tomorrow is 6 pm.”

     “Works for me if it works for you. Are you spent by then?”

     “No. Should be ok. Look forward to it.”

     “Want to do dinner? My treat for golf?”

     “Thanks, but I can’t tomorrow. I promised my 12-year-old I would try to catch some of his lacrosse scrimmage/practice tomorrow evening. Thanks though. How about a raincheck?”


     “How did you do at the range today?” Golf Guy texted later.

     “Pretty decent. Playing nine holes with my son in the morning. Doing yoga now and just did the splits!”

     “I want to see you do the splits.”

     “You show me, I’ll show you.”

     “OK, but sounds like I might tear some things.”

Saturday, April 21, 2018

I'll Sell Plasma--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Saturday, May 4

     Blake was supposed to come home today for the summer, but instead of texting me when he hit the road, he called.
     “My car is acting funny,” he said. “It stalls every time I shift into third gear. I’m also low on gas. So I don’t know. Maybe the gas has something to do with it.”
    “Fill your tank.”
     “Dad gave me a Mobil card but there aren’t any Mobil stations in Marquette, and I don’t have any money.”
     “You don’t have money?”
     “I don’t have any.”
     “Why didn’t you ask me to transfer some into your account.”
     “I closed that account. And I hate asking you for money. Haven’t you noticed I never ask?”
     “I figured you were getting it from Dad.”
     “I’ll give you a credit card number.”
     “My friend tried to do that and none of the gas stations would let him.”
     “Then you’ll have to flop at someone’s apartment until I can send you a check. It didn’t it occur to you school was ending, you were broke, and you had no gas?”
     “I’ll sell plasma. The plasma bank will give me twenty bucks. Then I can get on the road and find a Mobil station.”
     I started laughing. “I used to tell Nana that so she’d send me money in college. You’re not really going to sell plasma, are you?”
     “I’ve done it four or five times. My friends do it.”
     “Don’t do that. Ask me for money when you need it. Drive your car to the station where you got it fixed and I paid over the phone. Have them look at your car and put gas in the tank. They’ll take my credit card number.”
     A little while later, my phone rang.
     “My car won’t go at all now,” Blake said. “I’m stuck on top of a hill.”
     “You ran out of gas?” I laughed.
     “You never ran out of gas in your life?”
     “On the highway. When you were a baby.”
     Blake started laughing. “Great mother.”
     “Get someone to help you. Or walk to a gas station and buy a container of gas.”
     Blake called two hours later.
     “I found a gas station that took your number. My car is running, but it catches. I’m going to stay at a friend’s house tonight and leave tomorrow since it’s late.”
     “Drive your car around for awhile. Don’t just park it. See if it stops catching. You want it running well before you leave.”
     While I was talking to Blake, my friend Jim stopped by with his young adult sci-fi novel. I’m proof reading it in exchange for him rebuilding my website.
     “What’s Blake going to do if he runs into more trouble?” Jim grimaced.
     “He’s twenty. He has my credit card number. He’ll figure it out.”
     I felt like I needed a recovery meeting. I texted Playboy Pete to see if he was going to the 8:30 and he was. We ate dinner at a steak house afterward.
     “I was with my girlfriend when you texted,” Pete laughed. “I told her she was on her own tonight. Your getting divorced is an answer to my prayers.”
     I rolled my eyes. “How old is your girlfriend?”
     “God!” I laughed. “How do you get those young things to go out with you? Is she living with you, too?”
     Pete winked. I groaned. Pete was in his seventies. He was living with a stripper when I met him ten years ago.

Tuesday, April 17, 2018

Have One--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Friday, May 3

     “Hey Brenda, hope your day is going well,” Golf Guy texted. “We should probably reschedule. Now raining and colder over here. Are you okay with that?”

     “Yeah, that’s fine. Do you have a date or just want to get back to me?”

     “What is your Monday or Tuesday like?”

     “Monday afternoon is good. Tuesday is bad.”

     “K, I will get back to you about Monday.”


     I rode BlackJack.

     “How’s your writing going?” Golf Guy texted.

     “Rode my horse. Did you freeze today?”

     “Yes, it was pretty cold today. How was riding?”

     “Rode inside. I want to see you do the splits.”

     “It’s not pretty.”

     A text from Tom popped up. “I’m gonna stay at Dad’s until Thursday.”

     I drove home from the barn intending to write but laid down for a short nap. At seven, the time Jody was picking me up, I woke up.
     “Shit,” I muttered. I bolted for the bathroom and began brushing my teeth. The doorbell rang. I ran downstairs and let Jody in.
     “Sorry, I just woke up. Thought I was going to nap fifteen minutes but went long. Let me throw a different shirt on.”
     Jody and I headed into town for First Friday. We walked into a chiropractor's office to meet Jody’s friend, Little Kit, munch appetizers, and listen to acoustic guitar.
     “Mitch wanted me to tell you he’s two doors down having drinks with two women,” Little Kit told Jody. Mitch, Jody’s stalker ex, and Little Kit have been friends since grade school. We left the chiropractor and headed for Chili U where Jody and Little Kit wanted to drink. We passed the restaurant Mitch was in and Jody slowed down and looked through the window.
     We sat at the bar at Chili U. The church ladies from last First Friday were there again. Ann walked over.
     “My ex calls me all the time telling me he wants to get back together,” she slurred. “I tell him there’s no way. Not after what he did. I just found out about two more affairs. He had five. He says he’s taking me back to court to change the settlement. I tell him, ‘Fine, see what happens. I’m so much happier without you. I’m going out all the time.’ We’re fighting a lot.”
     “Why do you engage? Why do you tell him what you’re doing and how you feel?”
     Ann looked at me and shrugged.
     “I don’t want JB knowing what I’m doing, and I have no interest in him. I keep our conversations brief and on what we have to discuss.”
     Ann nodded. “I should do that.”
     “I’m excited about my new life. Get excited about yours. You have a do-over. You don’t have to worry about him cheating anymore.”
     “But I’m lonely,” Ann said. “I don’t want to wind up alone.”
     “How do you feel about looking over his shoulder the rest of your life? He had affairs with five women. You think he’s going to change? You won’t find someone nice if you get back together with him. And not to be a bummer, we’re all going to die alone.”
     Ann looked deep into my eyes and smiled. “There was a reason I was supposed to run into you tonight.”
     Ann gave me a big hug, plopped down on a stool, and began flirting with a dude who looked like George Lopez. Jody was flirting with one of three guys who had southern accents. I felt my phone vibrate.

     “How are you?” Golf Guy texted.

     “Getting a sore throat from talking in a noisy bar. How about you?”

     “I coached baseball practice, then grocery, now doing some work emails. Not very exciting.”

     “It’s nice being with friends, but I don’t know about this bar thing. Got your kind of night planned for tomorrow.”

     “You seem very nice.”

     “You, too.”

     I asked one of the southern guys where he was from.
     “South Carolina,” he said.
     “I was horseback riding in North Carolina last fall. Maggie Valley. It's gorgeous.”
     “Gorgeous but really redneck,” he laughed.
     “I was in Asheville, too. I could live there.”
     “Yeah, Asheville’s gotten really popular. Real estate’s gotten high, but you can still find places just outside it. I’m Mike,” he said, extending his hand.
     “Brenda,” I said, shaking his hand.
     “Hey,” Ann shouted at Mike. “You told me your name was Tim.”
     “Yeah,” the Mexican said. “You’ve been calling yourself Tim all night.”
     Mike shifted uncomfortably. Ann pulled a large plastic freezer bag full of oyster crackers out of her purse. “These are delicious,” she said, shoving the bag in front of Mike and me. “Have one. I bring them when I go out drinking. You have to see how good they taste.”
     “I’ve had oyster crackers before,” I said.
     “Not like these.”
     “Oh, I’m pretty sure I have.”
     She shoved the bag closer to me. “Have one.”
     I took a cracker and popped it in my mouth. Mike looked at Ann disgustedly.
     “Forget about him,” Ann said flipping her hand at Mike. “He doesn’t live here.” She turned and started talking to Lopez.
     “She’s having a rough time,” I told Mike. “She’s usually not like this.”
     His face softened and he nodded. “What did you think of the food at Cataloochee Ranch?”
     “It was good. They put out a huge spread every night: ribs, steak, chicken, a big table full of homemade pies and cakes.”
     “I wouldn’t think someone from Chicago would like the food there. Not fancy enough.”
     “We’re known for pizza and hotdogs.”
     Mike laughed.
     Jody walked up behind me. “Hey, you want to go?” she asked.
     “Sure,” I said. It was almost eleven. “Nice meeting you,” I told Mike. “Bye Ann.”
     “Hey, you don’t want to talk to this guy either,” Ann said pointing at Lopez. “He’s married. He’s one of those guys.”
     I shot Lopez a disgusted look and left with Jody.
     “The guy I was talking to told me he didn’t want a relationship,” Jody said on the way home. “He said he’s separated but won’t divorce his wife. He wants her to have health insurance. He offered to take me for a motorcycle ride.”
     I felt subtly sad about the night and was glad to get home and into bed. I plugged in my phone and saw Golf Guy had texted.

     “Sounds like you had a fun night.”

     “It was fun,” I lied. “But weird.”

     “I’m glad for you.”

     “Feels strange having every other weekend to myself. But I’m liking it.”

     “Glad you had fun.”

     “Going to watch ‘Sons of Anarchy’ with my dogs now.”

     Golf Guy sent me a picture of his son with his dog. I sent him pictures of Sammy, Sully, and BlackJack.

Saturday, April 14, 2018

Church Of Brenda--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Thursday May 2

     I gave a lead at a recovery meeting I don’t normally attend. Their format was to have a speaker read from a twelve-step magazine, comment on the story, and invite everyone to join small discussion groups.
     “Look through these magazines and choose a story, no big deal,” a woman said, pointing to a pile of magazines.
     I picked up a magazine, quickly leafed through it, chose a story about finding spirituality outdoors, and sat behind a table at the front of the room to read. The story was about a guy who couldn’t connect with God in church but felt something greater than himself in nature. After attending a sweat lodge ceremony, he sensed the divine in nature more acutely.
     “Sitting in a church doesn’t do much for me either,” I told the group. “But I’ve been moved to tears in nature. I love to ski. The mountains, to me, are divine. I was riding a chairlift in Breckenridge with my friend, Abby. We got off and I got all choked up and said, ‘Look at this Abby. God is here.’ Abby narrowed her eyes at me like I was whacko and skied off.”
     Everyone started laughing.
     “Another time, I was skiing the back of Steamboat with my sister. One of the chairlifts runs through thick pines and Gray Jays were swooping out of trees and landing on people’s outstretched hands. I turned around on the lift and looked at the people behind me. A man had a bird on his hand. I got off the lift and waited for him.
     “‘Are you feeding the birds?’ I asked.
     “The man gave me a handful of peanuts. ‘Stick out your arm and they’ll eat out of your hand,’ he said.
     “Feeling like Snow White, I skied down, got back on the lift, and offered my sister some peanuts. She made a face, shook her head, and said, ‘Birds freak me out.’”
     Everyone laughed again.
     “I put the peanuts in my hand and extended my arm. A Gray Jay swooped down and landed on my hand. It was magical. I started crying.
     “One night, I went out on my horse,” I continued. “We were riding in the woods before dusk and it was dark when we hit the last half-mile to the barn. BlackJack and I were getting eaten by mosquitoes. I signaled him to start running and he took off. The fireflies were out. We ran through glowing swarms of fireflies, their iridescent green lanterns swirling around us. I couldn’t stop saying thank-you to the sky when I got off. I was crying then, too.
     “I don’t like church," I concluded. "I blend yoga, my twelve-step program, and a little bit of Kabbalah with a bit of my christian upbringing and call it the Church of Brenda. You can join if you want to.”
     Everyone laughed hard at that.

     “How are you?” Golf Guy texted later.

     “I’m good. How was teaching?”

     “Was pretty good until about one, then got pretty cold.”

     “Looks like a coat and hat day tomorrow if it doesn’t rain. Guess we’ll see how it goes. Even when the weather is lousy, I’m grateful I don’t sit in a cubicle. I could if I had to, but I think it would kill me.”

     “Well said. I am grateful every day and feel lucky that I love what I do. What are you up to?”

     “Writing. Working on my book. I’m fortunate to do what I do, too.” Twenty minutes went by. I suspected Golf Guy was googling me.

     “Are you aware of my published book?”

     “Yes ma’am. I would like to read it.”

     “I’ll give you a copy tomorrow if we’re not rained out. You’ll learn more about me than you want to know.”

     “Then I won’t read it.”

     “If you wrote a book, I’d definitely read it.”

     “I can barely write. I watched your interview on that father something show.”

     “I hated that show. Felt like I needed to shower afterward.”

     “You seem to be a very strong person.”

     “I guess. I’m going to die one day. I don’t want to live a bullshit life.”

     “I have a confession to make.”

     “Go for it.”

     “I came up to you in the dome that day because your butt was perfect. Pretty shallow right?”

     “I’m glad you did.”

     Golf Guy sent an emoticon with gritted teeth. Then he sent one that looked demented.

     “And that means?”

     “Just being silly,” he texted. “Want to hear something else silly?”


     “I can do the splits.”


     “Pretty weird, right?”

     “I haven’t done them since last summer. Didn’t warm up because it was 95 degrees out. Lowered down to the ground and pop, pop, pop. Hamstring.”

     “That sucks. Your golf swing is going to end up being very good.”

     “You think? Have you always been able to do the splits? Regular or Chinese?”

     “I can almost do them, and I’m not sure of the difference. I’ve always been very flexible.”

     “One leg back, one leg forward: regular. Legs out to each side: Chinese.”

     “The former.”

     “Okay, now I have to do the splits again.”

     “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Tuesday, April 10, 2018

Someone Like You--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Wednesday, May 1

     Tom has had a lingering stomach virus for weeks. He feels fine for four or five days then queasy again. I took him to the doctor and Tom was told to eat bland food for at least one week to get his stomach back to normal.
     “I have six or seven patients with this,” the doctor told Tom. “They’re all about your age.”
     Tom’s queasiness re-flared up the first time on the day JB and I divorced. JB picked Tom up after school, Tom threw up, and he didn’t go back to school the rest of that week or the beginning of the next. I fed Tom chicken, rice, chicken noodle soup, bagels, bananas and apples. Tom went to JB’s and ate pizza and chili dogs. Tom came home feeling lousy and I put him back on his special diet. But three days later, he was back at JB’s eating donuts. I’d given JB explicit instructions what to feed Tom weeks ago. When Tom was with me, he didn't vomit. I crossed my fingers when Tom went to JB’s today.

     “Tom’s stomach is acting up again,” JB texted.

     “I’m not surprised. He doesn’t eat the food he’s supposed to with you.”

     “Okay. He had soup last night, toast for breakfast, eating soup now. He has had dairy though.”

     “He’s not supposed to have dairy. I asked you to feed him certain foods. You aren’t. He has voice at six tonight.”

     “I cancelled. Didn’t want to but he threw up.”

     “Great. Do I need to tell you what he can eat again?”


     “Hey Brenda,” Golf Guy texted, “might be able to see you around two on Friday for a little while. Would that work?”

     “Yeah. Guessing it’s a no go if it’s raining?”


     “If it’s iffy, will you confirm?”

     “If it’s iffy we will talk.”

     “Okay. Thanks. Goodnight.”

     “You need to help me find someone like you who isn’t married.”

     “I got divorced a week ago.”

     “Wow, sorry to hear that. You okay?”

     I’d already told Golf Guy I was divorced. What the hell?

     “I’m great,” I texted. “It was a good thing.”

     “Okay, good, I’m happy for you.”

     “What about you?” I texted.

     “I’ve been divorced four years.”

     “How was that? Bad?”

     “No, it was a good thing. Married fourteen years and we just grew apart. No spark left. We get along well because the focus is our kids.”

     “I was married for twenty-one years. Unhappily for lots of reasons. Glad it’s over.”

     “I’m glad you are in a better place now.”

     “Me, too. It feels good to have scraped him off me. Sounds terrible, but it’s true.”

     “I’m sorry you were in a bad place for a long time. People change.”

     “They do. I feel bad for my kids. We can swap stories some time. Bet mine will top yours.”

     “Sounds like it might. Sleep well.”

     “You, too.”

Saturday, April 7, 2018

Be Careful--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt

Tuesday, April 30

     “I met with Tom yesterday,” Ryan, Tom's school social worker, told me. “Playing you and your ex against each other, that’s normal. I did that with my parents when they divorced. But it’s the first time Tom told me he was sad. The fact that he said that concerns me. In the past, he always said he was fine. And he seemed fine. I’m his track coach. I’ve seen him laughing and joking with his friends.”
     “Keep meeting with him, okay?” I said. I’’m trying to find a therapist. Do you have a good referral?”
     “There’s only a month left of school, but I’ll keep meeting with him. I’ll send you referrals if he needs to see someone this summer. If one of your friends refers you to someone good, let me know.”
     Whitley and I met for lunch. I hadn’t seen her since I fell apart in her office after learning JB’d raided our 401K.
     “You look great!” Whitley smiled and hugged me. “Congratulations on the divorce.”
     “I feel good,” I said.
     “It’s a relief, I bet.”
     “Huge. I didn’t know how unhappy I was, until now.”
     “You’ve been unhappy a long time. It’s good to see you smiling. Really, you look fabulous.”
     I rode BlackJack through the woods for a couple of hours. It was warm. The sun was shining. I was grateful to be alive, to have a horse, to be in nature, to be free. Then Angie and I met for sushi.
     “I’ve been thinking about the red string,” I told Angie. “I’m interested in wearing it, but it seems superstitious. Why would a red string make any difference to God? Wouldn’t God protect you regardless?”
     I’d been contemplating wearing the red string Kabbalah students tie around their left wrists for protection.
     “Talk to Yosef about it,” Angie said. “I carry extra red string in my purse. Talk to him. When you’re ready, I’ll put it on you. Do you carry the pocket Zohar?”
     Angie dug around in her purse and pulled one out. “Here,” she said. “Put that in your purse. It’s for healing and protection. I feel better now that you have that.”
     I told Angie about Golf Guy.
     “Be careful,” she said furrowing her brow and looking at me intently. “Really. I don’t want you catching something.”
     “I won’t put myself at risk.”
     “I did when I was first divorced. Thank God I didn’t get anything.”
     My phone dinged.
     “Let me know if you have any time Friday afternoon for me to look at your swing,” Golf Guy texted.

Tuesday, April 3, 2018

Manipulative Behavior--"Thank You Ashley Madison" excerpt.

Monday, April 29

     “Hi Brenda,” JB emailed. “Hope you are doing OK. I know what's going on with Tom is very upsetting. 
     “I am just going to tell you what I am hearing and observing. Making no judgments about anyone's actions or veracity.
     “Tom does seem depressed. It doesn't feel like an act, but you may see it differently. I asked him if it was about the divorce. He insisted no. I also apologized to him for the break up of the family.
     “He insisted his sadness is because of how you talk to him. He says it is too negative and critical. I've told him repeatedly that things get better when he starts getting his stuff done consistently. Even after owning up to his lies he's sticking with this point. 
     “I am just telling you what he is telling me. This morning it was tough to get him moving and almost impossible to get him to eat anything.
     “I think I will call the school social worker today and give her a heads up. 
     “FYI, math is back up to a B. Still waiting to see what happens when he gets credit for whatever he has turned in late for Spanish. Social studies is tough because he failed the biggest test. There is one on ancient Rome coming up. If he aces that his grade will improve.
     “As far as quitting the band goes, I told him if that is what he wants, fine. I did insist that he do it the right way, and not just drop them like a hot rock. I suggested, assuming he gets privileges back in 2 weeks, that he offer to do Libertyville Days with Gamma Ray, then he can quit. They may say no thanks, but at least he will have made the offer. He should also thank Terry for all he has done for him since second grade. I hope you agree with this approach. It's about moving on in the right way, without burning bridges.
     “Please email me his schedule details. I also would like to have Tom call you tonight just to say hi.”

     “This is about the divorce,” I wrote back. “The boys believed you to be an honest trustworthy pillar. Knowing you're not who you portrayed yourself to be has messed them up. On the surface, they try to look like they're fine but they are not. They have been betrayed. Their trust is shot.
     “I yelled at Tom about his awful grades. He told me later that he called and texted you to get back at me. The shocking way he lied, said I punched him three times, knocked him down, was hiding in the closet. While he was texting you he was at the driving range, an international food fair, playing miniature golf, batting in batting cages. This is deeply disturbing.
     “When I told Tom he was going to your house for two weeks, he was taken aback and did not look happy. I felt bad but started thinking maybe it would be good for the two of you. Then I thought about your obsession with porn and dating websites, how you're not there when you physically are, and changed my mind.
     “I don't want this to be a punishment for Tom. If he wants to stay with you and something good is coming out of it, great. I hope that's the case. But if he wants to come home he can.
     “Tom and I’ve been working with a school social worker. It’s a he, not a she. Tom had a few appointments with him that didn't go anywhere. Tom didn't talk much and kept insisting he was fine. I have asked several people to help me find a good child therapist.”

     Tanya and I met for breakfast.
     “Tom’s manipulative behavior is textbook,” she said. “I’ve seen it in my divorced friends’ daughters and my own daughter when my husband died. You did the right thing calling Tom’s bluff. You can’t let him get away with that. But it will probably happen again.”
     “JB sent me an email this morning telling me Tom seems really depressed. He could barely get him to eat anything this morning. I’m feeling really bad I sent Tom to stay with him for two weeks.”
     “You need to let him know you still love him and that he can come home any time he wants.”
     “I’m going to pull him out of school and take him to lunch.”
     Tom walked into student services at lunchtime and looked at me warily. I gave him a bear hug. He bear hugged me back and I felt the tension leave his body. We bought chili at the Picnic Basket and ate it in the park.
     “I hate what happened,” I said. “I know I can be harsh and hurt your feelings. I’m very sorry about that. You, however, can’t lie and throw me under the bus. A lot of things are bothering you right now. A lot of things are bothering me. In a lot of ways, we’re in the same place. I’m stressed. I blew up at you. I get scared for you. I want you to be able to do whatever you want in life. You’re so smart and talented. I don’t want doors shut because of bad grades. When you develop bad work habits, they follow you around. And I don’t want staying at Dad’s to feel like a punishment. He’d like you to stay with him at least a week, but I want you to know you can come home whenever you want. Okay?”
     “I’ll come home after a week,” Tom said. “I’ve been talking to my friend Andrew about starting our new band. We know a drummer.”
     “Great. You know how much I love you, right?”
     “Yes,” Tom said with a smile.
     “What track events did you decide to do?”
     “I’m going to do the long jump.”
     “You can jump really far?”
     “Cool. I can’t wait.”
     Tom seemed in good spirits by the time I dropped him at school. Later, I taught yoga and drove to the barn.
     “How was your day?” Golf Guy texted as I parked
     “It was pretty good. How was yours?”
     “Pretty busy, just got done coaching my younger son’s baseball game.”
     “That could be fun, or not. Going to ride my crazy horse, which can be fun, or not.”
     “Coaching 10 year olds is fun and frustrating. Where is your stable?”
     “Off Milwaukee and Casey. You ride?”
     “No. But I have a couple girlfriends who have horses. Sounds crazy, but horses have always scared me a little. I fell off one when I was little.”
     I laughed at his text. He was letting me know up front who he was. Guess I’m the cliche divorcee flirting with the golf pro.
     “My horse almost killed me last year,” I texted. “You wouldn’t want to get on him. But I kinda like the adrenalin.”
     “Have you had him a long time?”
     “Almost five years. I cut cows on him.”
     “I’m embarrassed to say I have no idea what that means.”
     “I take him to a cattle ranch in Marengo and move cattle around.”
     “I see. Sounds amazing.”
     “It’s a blast.”
     “Have fun.”