Bad Mommy(54)

When he got home that night I told him everything, starting with the knick-knacks in her kitchen and ending with his cologne.

“Are you sure it was mine?”

“Darius, you’ve been wearing that shit for four years. I’m the one who bought it for you. AND I have to order if from fucking Timbuktu to get it. Nordstrom, my ass.” I was pacing the living room, my hands tucked into my back pockets. I spun around to look at him, to gauge his reaction. He was sitting on the sofa, head bowed, hands dangling between his knees.

“I’m so uncomfortable right now I don’t know what to say.” He glanced up at me, and I felt so terrible. This wasn’t his fault. I thought about the times I questioned him, got angry and accusatory. It was so wrong of me to blame him for something I’d invited in.

“I’m going to make you even more uncomfortable,” I said, holding up a finger. I ran over to my MacBook and clicked on the music list I’d compiled. I’d play him each song, make him see.

“Listen to this.” I played them all while he sat quietly next to me and listened.

“You think these songs are about me?” His words were clipped.

I nodded. “The lyrics, Darius. They’re about her being in love with someone she can’t have. She thinks I’m evil and you need someone better—her. Pair that with the cologne, the way she acts when you’re around, and look!” I pulled up a screenshot of her Instagram account. “She’s posted four pictures of you. Just you. I’ve never made a solo cameo on her account, not once. Why is she posting another woman’s husband on her Instagram, for God’s sake? That’s just weird.”

He didn’t respond. After months of Darius insisting she was stalking me, copying my every move, this wasn’t the response I’d expected. Something wasn’t right. I could feel it.

“Darius, did something happen between the two of you? Just tell me the truth.”

He looked alarmed. Hurt? I’d just done what I told myself I wasn’t going to do not five minutes ago. God, I was a mess. I backed down right away, apologized. I couldn’t keep doing this to him, accusing him. I started crying.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It was a bizarre day. Your cologne…”

He pulled me into a hug before I could say anything else, and I buried my face in his shoulder. “It’s okay,” he said. “She’s crazy, I don’t blame you for being shaken up. But, it’s not me, Jo. She wants what you have and I’m just an extension of that.”

I nodded against him, breathing him in. I loved his smell, without the cologne. Just the smell of him. How could I have doubted him? He was so good to us, Mercy and me. The effects of Fig Coxbury were subtle, but when someone’s presence was starting to affect your relationship it was time to jump ship.

“I feel really good about being right about the paint,” he said, into my hair. I elbowed him in the ribs and he grunted. “And remember when the shower curtain arrived in the mail, and she asked what you got because she saw the package sitting by the door?”

I nodded.

“You texted her a picture of it. I told you not to because she’d track it down…”

I vaguely remembered something like that happening. But, I’d not told her where I got it—just texted her a picture after I hung it up. I voiced this to Darius who shook his head at me like I was completely naive.

“You can Google search images, Jo. She just plugged your picture in and voilà!”

“She could have done that anyway when she saw it in person,” I pointed out.

“True.” He nodded.

“It’s crazy, Darius. The site I bought it on has five thousand whale images to put on shower curtains. Why did she have to buy that exact one?”

He shrugged. “Because you have it? Because she doesn’t know who she is and she’s using you as a vision board.”

“A vision board,” I said. “This is nuts.”

“Take a break. Maybe don’t have her over for a while. You’re busy right now anyway. You’re dealing with stuff with your dad. We have our trip coming up. Forget about Fig. Stop stalking the stalker. Let her be crazy from a distance.” He took my face in his hands, and I nodded at him dumbly. He was right. I’d take a step back. I couldn’t emotionally afford to be pulled into this nonsense. I had to focus.



I met Darius at Target on his lunch break on a rainy weekday afternoon. We were choosing a trike for Mercy for Christmas. It was an exciting parent thing, and we were marveling at how our little baby was suddenly in need of wheels. I could see him as I ran toward the entrance of the store, having forgotten my raincoat at home. His collar was up around his neck, as he stood with his hands in his pockets surveying the parking lot. My heart felt so happy in that moment, so in love. We had weathered many storms, fought hard to be together. Our love felt full of weight and worthiness. Once inside, we walked up and down the aisles picking up things we didn’t need and putting them into the cart. Our mood was light and fun. It was a good afternoon. We were already at the register paying when we realized we had forgotten the trike.

“This is your fault,” I joked.

“Yes, yes it is. I saw the throw pillows and everything else went out the window.” He made jazz hands, and I laughed.

We were finishing up at the register, grabbing our bags and trying to fit them all in the cart. Darius was swiping his credit card when I heard her voice behind me, shrill … emotional.