Chapter 19

Plates. Check.

Cups. Check.

Napkins. Check.

All branded with Buddy the Bulldozer.

I’d bought Buddy the Bulldozer key chains for the goody bags because four-year-olds really needed key chains. Chocolate balls wrapped in Buddy yellow, mini Buddy puzzles, plus other yellow-wrapped sugary treats would complete the bags.

On the morning of Ethan’s fourth birthday party, after cleaning him up, feeding him, and dressing him, I had to finally plop him in front of the television so I could dig through the back of the closet in the guest room for the bag with the Buddy yellow utensils from last year’s party. Then I needed to reply to some work emails.

Lionel had emailed me, asking what time that day he would get the responses to the Cooper interrogatories. I’d planned to work on the Cooper case on Sunday and had been given no indication that Lionel expected them sooner.

I wanted to reply, “What makes you think you’re getting them today?” But I wouldn’t have even gone that far in the past, and certainly not now since I was teetering on probation and had made a promise to Dan. I replied, “I’ll try to finish ASAP and will send over tomorrow.” I tossed my phone into my bag and threw my hands in the air.

Where was I? What else do kids do at birthday parties? Eat cake. My mother was picking that up on her way. Drinks? Kids drank juice, and I had that. Parents didn’t usually drink at these parties, or at least I hadn’t come across any that did, which always made me feel like I couldn’t, which was a bummer. What else?

“But you’re dressed,” I answered as I packed the napkins, cups, and plates into a Bloomindale’s bag.

“We don’t have those.” Because Mommy hasn’t food shopped in a decade. “What about these?” I walked toward him in the TV room, holding a box of Oreos.

“Hold on,” I said as I grabbed the cookies and lifted his shirt off so he wouldn’t wipe his chocolatey hands on his birthday outfit.

As he ate Oreos, shirtless in front of the TV, I ran back to the kitchen and tried to steal a few more minutes before he screamed for milk.

It was a text from Todd: So I hear you’re going to be hanging out with my wife today.

I held onto the island in the middle of the kitchen as I wrote back. I knew I should ignore him, but I couldn’t help myself.

Jada: I see you’re still with your wife. How’s that other woman carrying your child?

Todd: My wife mentioned she had a birthday party for the kids today, for Jada’s son.

Jada: I hope she doesn’t know from finding out some other way. And if she’s reading your texts, let her. Don’t ever contact me again. We are not friends.

I walked to the refrigerator to get the milk, when my phone buzzed. Did Todd get hit in the head recently? What is he not understanding? No contact means from this point on.

I poured the milk and delivered it to Ethan as the buzzing continued. Is he calling me now? I rushed back to the kitchen to see that it was Mark. I picked up as I continued gathering everything on my checklist into the Bloomingdale’s bag.

“Hey,” Mark said. “I’m around the corner in case you needed me to help you bring anything to the party.”

That’s awfully nice. “That would be great. Thank you.” I still hadn’t told my family what was going on and prayed Ethan didn’t mention staying at Daddy’s apartment. I planned to tell them after my mother was feeling better, but it never seemed like the right time. In the meantime, at least Mark seemed to be less angry toward me.

“Thanks. I thought I’d help you bring things over.” He leaned against the kitchen island.

“I appreciate it,” I said as I checked my list. Wet wipes. Large garbage bags.

“Hey, listen, can we talk first?” He moved closer to me. “Maybe outside?”

“Yeah. I’m just trying to gather everything and respond to work emails and keep him occupied. What’s up?”

I followed Mark out the back door, where we could still see Ethan in the TV room.

“Listen, I hate to do this now, right before the party, but I was just going over some things with the accountant yesterday, and it looks like our property taxes are going to go up a lot. I think you’ll agree that we should probably put the house on the market sooner rather than later. And to keep things moving along, I can be the one to file if you want. You know, for divorce. I’ve already spoken to a lawyer.”

“Yeah. I don’t want it to get messy. I wasn’t even going to hire a lawyer, but—”

“Oh. Right. Of course.” My knees buckled. Mark reached for my elbows. I sat down on the bench by a small patch that I’d always planned to turn into a vegetable garden but never did. “Divorce? Okay, yes. Sell the house? I wasn’t ready for that one. I kind of just assumed Ethan and I would stay here. But, no, I guess I wasn’t thinking clearly. Okay, let me digest this.”

“You know, Jada, since moving out, I’ve felt differently. Better. I didn’t realize I’d been walking on eggshells all this time.”

“Is that right? Was I so hard to live with? Okay, you know what?” I turned to him. “Yes, this is the path we’re going down, but can we talk about this later when we’re not on our way to our child’s birthday party with everyone we know? Like a real conversation, possibly? Later?”

“Sure.” Mark went into the TV room. “Hey, bud, where’s your shirt? Excited for your big bash?”

When I returned to the kitchen, I had a new email from Lionel that read, “Tomorrow is not going to cut it, Jada. I need it TODAY.”

I tore the plastic back, shoved the straw in the juice box, and gave it back to him. You couldn’t ask your father to do that?

I tried to calm down before replying to Lionel. Stop, Jada. Take a second. Breathe. In. Out.

I typed out an email reply on my phone. “Not going to happen, Lionel. We’re not saving lives here. You will get it tomorrow. And didn’t anyone ever teach you in the one hundred years you’ve been alive not to use CAPITAL LETTERS in business correspondence? It’s rude.”

I threw my phone into my bag, shut off the television, and told Ethan to put his shirt and shoes on before I counted to twenty. I told him he could finish his juice in the car. “Hurry!” I barked. Mark gave me a side-eye and picked up the bag of party supplies as we walked out the door.

WHEN WE ARRIVED AT Long Island at Play, everyone was already there—my parents, Orly and Paul, my nieces, Mark’s parents, who’d driven down from Albany, Mark’s sister and her kids, Aunt Fran, Uncle Eddie, cousin Andrea and her husband and kids, and my aunts, uncles, and cousins on my father’s side. My grandparents had not come because it was too much to ask them to travel from New Jersey to Long Island.

I kissed everyone hello as Ethan ran up to the presents piled in the corner. Before I could utter, “Hold on. We’ll open those later,” my mother took the Bloomingdale’s bag from Mark’s hand.

“Are the plates in this bag?” she asked. “We’ll be serving the food soon,” she announced to the crowd of mingling friends and family. “You only have the room for a certain amount of time. Let’s get the show on the road. Orly, lift the top off that salad.”

Everyone lined up on one side of the room, still chatting and snacking, while I tried to get a picture of the birthday boy in front of his presents.

Jessica, Melody, and Danielle were lining up for food as their children ran between their legs.

I remembered their kids’ parties. Ethan hadn’t been invited to any of them because we hadn’t gotten that close yet, but from what I’d seen on social media, they’d each had themed parties complete with visits from their favorite characters. Jessica even had a Little Mermaid party at an indoor pool at a local Hilton because it was winter, and Ariel swam, chatted with the kids, ate cake, and sang “Happy Birthday” without ever getting out of the pool.

No characters would be making surprise visits at this party. Buddy was not going to bulldoze through the door to the kids’ screaming delight. Nope. Not this party. Maybe next year, Ethan.

“Is everything out? Did we go through all the bags? Do we have drinks?” I asked Orly and my mother.

“The soda is over there.” My mother pointed at the corner where drinks were set up. Cups and ice were in another corner.

“I did,” Orly said as she bit down on a piece of pepperoni. “Don’t let me forget my ice bucket.”

“Someone brought vodka?” Orly asked as she surveyed the drink area. I whipped around as she held up a bottle of Grey Goose. “That’s what this is, right?”

“I brought that,” Danielle said. “I never go to a kid’s party without a gift for the parents.”

“That’s so sweet,” I said as I started mixing myself a much-needed cocktail. This probably went against the contract I’d signed with Gloria, the party planner. But she’ll never find out. I took a long sip.

By the time we had eaten and worked our way over to the trampoline portion of the party, I was feeling pretty good, and I had successfully avoided Jessica for the most part other than a brief hello. I was glad Danielle was there. It was good to see her. Then there was Melody. Ugh. Look at her. Does she ever shut the hell up? Where’s your gossipy little husband today? Having tea with Page Six?

I jumped at the touch on my shoulder, though it was gentle. “Are you done, dear?”

“Go watch Ethan bounce. Don’t miss it. I’ll clean up the plates and stuff.”

I headed toward the trampoline room but first stopped for another drink. I mixed and poured and mixed and poured until it was the perfect mix of vodka and soda. Then I walked into the trampoline room and realized I was the last one in.

I searched for someone I felt like talking to. Danielle was in a huddle with Jessica and Melody, so she was out.

Where’s my dad? Not that he talks much, but he’s better than nothing. Oh, there he is, on picture-taking duty right behind the trampoline coach and Mark. Who are some of these other people?

The trampoline room was supposed to be reserved for one hour exclusively for Ethan’s party. I guessed we had party crashers. Whatever.

I imagined myself screaming, “Welcome, party crashers! Now find your mothers and beat it! You know how much I paid for this party?” I started laughing to myself.

My uncle Eddie must have thought I was amused by the trampoline-jumping kids. “Aren’t they cute?” he asked.

“Ha. No. I’m good.” I watched as Uncle Eddie was snapping photos of Andrea’s kids jumping up and down.

Should I be taking photos? Crap. Well, I’ll take pictures when it’s Ethan’s turn. I finally feel relaxed. One more drink, and I’ll be good. I walked into the other room and almost made it to the drink table without incident until I tripped over something.

I caught my balance, glared down at the offending object—a kid’s sneaker—and kicked it to the corner. I made my last drink and went back to the trampoline room. It was finally Ethan’s turn. I grabbed my phone and turned on the video mode.

As I recorded him, I became a bit queasy. Perhaps I should look at him instead of through the phone. It might be affecting my equilibrium. When it was time to chant his name as he jumped, we all cheered together. “Eth-an. Eth-an. Eth-an.”

“Ouch!” I turned around. Orly had scratched the back of my ankle with her shoe.

You seem really sorry. When is this damn bouncing over? It’s making me nauseous. I feel like I’m on a boat.

I stopped recording and shouted, “Okay!” I walked over to the trampoline master. “Okay, thank you. That’s enough.” I quickly turned away from the master’s bewildered face and back toward the guests. “Cake time!” I turned to Ethan and shouted, “Come on! Don’t you want cake?”

“Cake!” I spilled a little of my beverage as I threw my arms out in front of me. “Cake!” I enunciated to Ethan.

I noticed a side glance between Orly and my cousin Andrea but didn’t think much of it.

“Good!” I searched for my mother then realized she was right in front of me. “Where’s the cake, Ma?”

“I’m sure people want to go home. And we have the room for less than an hour now. How much longer could it have gone on?” I waited for an answer to appease my guilt.

“It’s a four-year-old’s birthday party, not a bridal shower. All these kids want to do is bounce around. We’ll open them at home, and then I’ll send thank-you cards.”

“No. You have to have him open his gifts, Jada.” She pointed her finger at the floor. “That would be so rude.”

“Well then, it’s a good thing I got him off the trampoline. Right? Let’s go.”

After Gloria brought the cake out and we sang “Happy Birthday,” it was gift time.

Ethan, Mark, and I stood at the front of the room, where the gifts were piled high. Ethan insisted on ripping the wrapping paper off of each one. While he did that, I opened the card, read it, and said thank you to whoever it was from.

Then we oohed and aahed over each gift before moving on to the next one while my mother stuffed the discarded wrapping paper into a garbage bag and Mark stacked the gifts in the corner.

As Ethan was ripping open the wrapping paper on the second to last gift, I turned sharply to my left to grab it from him and felt a bit bobbleheaded.

There was a gurgling, not in my belly, but in my throat. If I could slip away to the bathroom to let it all out, no one would be the wiser.

I handed Ethan’s final gift to my father and whispered that I had to go to the bathroom. I announced, as clearly as I could say the words, “Thank you, everyone! Thank you so much! Don’t forget your goodie bags. They’re in that corner over there.”

As I headed toward the door, I tripped. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch myself that time. I lost my balance, and my left knee crashed into the floor, but I didn’t feel a thing. As my father helped me up, I surveyed the floor for the offending object.

“Another sneaker!” I picked it up and held it over my head. “Another fucking sneaker!”

Mark was flushed with horror. My mother was furious. Danielle pitied me. Jessica was confused, and Melody was full of morbid delight.

The yelling must have pushed the alcohol up. There was nothing else in my stomach. I realized in that moment that I hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch since I was saying hello to all our guests. I grabbed the garbage bag with the wrapping paper from my mother’s hands and puked. I wished it was just one retch, but it was several prolonged retches.

Even though I was drunk and emotional, I didn’t think I would have started crying if I hadn’t caught Ethan’s face. It was his look of concern—as though he were wondering if Mommy was okay—that made me unable to hold back the tears.

The room was silent other than Aunt Fran mumbling, “Get her a napkin. Where are the napkins?”

That should have been the worst part. But I felt the need to explain myself, and I made the mistake of opening my mouth.

“I’m so sorry. I’m... I’m so sorry, everyone. I’m not feeling well today,” I said loudly, even though I could hear a pin drop.

What I did hear was a snort from Melody, which was the only thing more antagonizing than the sneaker.

“Did you just laugh?” I lasered in on her. “Go ahead and laugh! You’re right. It’s not that I’m not feeling well. I’m drunk. Okay? I’m drunk at my son’s birthday party. Woo-hoo. Look at the drunk mother! Well, let me tell you something—” At that point, Orly touched my shoulder, but I shooed her away. “Listen, everyone, I’m truly sorry, but I have to be honest. I have to finally be honest.”

I found Jessica, standing to the right of Melody, and pointed at her. “I spent the night with your husband. I know Todd. I knew Todd before you knew Todd, and I ran into him in San Francisco. We spent the night together. Then he told me he got that other woman pregnant.”

Melody gasped. Danielle’s eyes widened as if a light bulb went off. Yes, he’s the ex. Jessica was stone-faced.

Mark was staring at me, as if he were concentrating on keeping his jaw in place. “And Mark left. He lives in the city now. He no longer lives in our house, in our big, beautiful house.” I spread my arms wide as I said that. “That we’re now selling. We’re not together. We’re getting divorced!”

His stony expression never changed. I couldn’t bear to look at Ethan. Does he know what divorce means? Oh shit, what have I just let out?

“My mother has cancer. Does everyone know my mother has cancer?” I asked the horrified crowd. “Uterine,” I continued. “And even though she acts like it’s no big deal, it is a big deal. And even though she loves Orly more, I’m still sad. I’m your daughter, and I love you, and I’m sad.” I stared at the floor as the tears flowed. “It’s all too much. It’s just been too damn much. And I’m sorry to anyone I’ve hurt. I’m sorry.” I whipped my head back to look in Jessica’s direction. “But I want you to know we did not have sex! We didn’t even k-k-ki—”

I couldn’t get the last word out. That whipping motion made the room spin and led to another retch into the wrapping-paper bag.

Then I felt an arm around my shoulder. It was my father. “Why don’t you go to the bathroom and wash your face?”

I nodded, grabbed a napkin from Aunt Fran, and blew my nose as I walked toward the bathroom. I turned back briefly. “Thank you for coming, everyone.”

The only good thing was that, as I finally caught a glimpse of Ethan, he was no longer looking in my direction. He was preoccupied with a plastic tool set my cousin had given him.

“I want to open this one now,” he said to Orly. “Can I open this one now, Aunt Oly?”

I stayed in the bathroom until everyone had left except for my mother, father, Orly, Mark, and Ethan.

No one said anything, not even my mother. Orly brought me water then drove my car home in silence. Mark came back to the house and stayed to bathe Ethan and put him to bed. He left with a simple, “We’ll talk later.”

I stayed in bed and tried to fall asleep, but I couldn’t get certain faces out of my mind.