Waiting for him to care.
Waiting for him to become the man I once believed I had married.
That afternoon, I stopped waiting.
Part 4 — The Last Person I Expected
I cried most of the drive home.
By the time I reached my apartment, I had almost nothing left in me.
My neighbor June saw me struggling with Chloe’s carrier and immediately came over.
“Let me help.”
Normally, I would have smiled and insisted I was fine.
That had become my automatic response.
I’m fine.
We’re fine.
I’ve got it.
But I wasn’t fine.
So I let June carry Chloe upstairs.
Once inside, she asked if there was anyone she could call.
I looked at my phone.
There was one person.
The last person I wanted to ask for help.
Barbara.
Eric’s mother.
Barbara and I had never been close.
She thought I took things too personally.
I thought she had spent Eric’s entire life making excuses for him.
If he forgot something, Barbara fixed it.
If he ran short on money, Barbara helped.
If he created a problem, somehow someone else ended up solving it.
After Eric left, Barbara had stopped contacting me entirely.
I assumed she had chosen her son.
Still, I called.
She answered sounding half asleep.
“Claire?”
My voice broke almost immediately.
“Barbara…”
Her tone changed.
“What’s wrong?”
And then, for the first time, I told her everything.
I didn’t soften the details.
I didn’t defend Eric.
I told her about the savings.
The other woman.
The emergency delivery.
Chloe’s medical expenses.
The phone call.
The things Eric had said.
The visit to his house.
When I finished, there was silence.
So much silence that I checked whether the call had disconnected.
Finally Barbara spoke.
“He told me you left him.”
I sat up.
“What?”
“He said you ended the marriage. He said you didn’t want me around you or the baby.”
For several seconds I could only stare at the wall.
“Barbara, he left me six weeks before Chloe was born.”
Her breathing changed.
Just slightly.
But I heard it.
“I understand.”
Then her voice became unusually calm.
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Before I could tell her not to come, she hung up.
Less than an hour later, someone knocked.
Barbara stood outside wearing a coat over her pajamas, grocery bags hanging from both hands.
