I was looking at two options. I could choose to press charges and drag this through the courts, only to be met with a very possible joint custody arrangement. Or I could attempt to work an agreement out with Ryle that would satisfy us both, while preserving our coparenting relationship.
I guess you could say we came to a compromise, even though there isn’t an agreement in the world that would make me feel comfortable with sending my daughter off with someone I know possesses a temper. But all I can do is choose the lesser of two evils when it comes to custody and hope that Emmy never sees that side of him.
I want Emmy to bond with her father. I’ve never wanted to keep her from him. I just want to ensure she’s safe, which is why I begged Ryle to agree to day visits for the first couple of years. I never told him outright it’s because I don’t know that I fully trust him with her. I think I might have blamed it on my breastfeeding situation and the fact that he’s on call all the time, but deep down I’m sure he knows why I’ve never wanted her to stay with him overnight.
The past abuse is something we don’t talk about. Wetalk about Emmy, we talk about work, we plaster on smiles when we’re in the presence of our daughter. Sometimes it feels forced and fake, at least on my end, but it’s better than what this could have been had I taken him to court and lost. I’ll fake a smile until she’s eighteen if it means I don’t have to share custody and potentially expose my daughter to the worst parts of her father on a more regular basis.
It’s been working out okay so far, if you don’t count the occasional gaslighting and unwanted flirtation from him. As clear as I’ve made my feelings during this divorce, he still has hope for us. He says things sometimes that indicate he hasn’t fully let go of the idea of us. I fear that a huge part of Ryle’s cooperation rests on the notion that he’ll eventually win me back if he’s good enough for long enough. He has it in his head that I’ll soften over time.
But life isn’t going to happen his way, Ellen. I’m ultimately going to move on, and if I’m being honest, I hope I end up moving on in Atlas’s direction. It’s too soon to know if that’s a possibility, but I know for a fact I’ll never move back in Ryle’s direction, no matter how much time passes.
It’s been almost a year since I asked Ryle for the divorce, but it’s been almost nineteen months since the fight that ultimately caused our separation. Which means I’ve been single for over a year and a half.
A year and a half of separation between potential relationships seems like plenty of time, and maybe it would be if it were anyone other than Atlas. But how can I possibly make this work? What if I text Atlas and he invites me to lunch? And then lunch goes wonderful, which I’m sure it would, and lunch leads to dinner? And dinner leads to usfalling right back into step with where we left off when we were younger? And then we’re both happy and we fall back in love and he becomes a permanent part of my life?
I know it sounds like I’m getting ahead of myself, but it’s Atlas we’re talking about here. Unless he had a personality transplant, I think you and I both know how easy Atlas is for me to love, Ellen. That’s why I’m so hesitant, because I’m scared it will work out.
And if it works out, how will Ryle feel about my new relationship? Emerson is almost a year old, and we’ve gone this whole year without too much drama, but I know that’s because we’ve found a good flow that nothing has interrupted. So why does it feel like any mention of Atlas will cause a tsunami?
Not that Ryle deserves the concern I’m currently feeling over this situation, but he has the potential to make my dating life a living hell. Why does Ryle still occupy an entire wall in my many layers of thoughts? That’s what it feels like—as if these wonderful things happen, but as they start to sink in, they eventually reach a part of me that is still making decisions based on Ryle and his potential reactions.
His reactions are what I fear the most. I want to hope that he wouldn’t be jealous, but he will be. If I start dating Atlas, he’ll make it difficult for everyone. Even though I know divorce was the right choice, there are still consequences to that choice. And one of those consequences is that Ryle will always look at Atlas like he’s the thing that broke up our marriage.
Ryle is the father of my daughter. No matter what mancomes and goes in my life from this point forward, Ryle is the one constant that I’ll always have to appease if I want the most peaceful experience for my daughter. And if Atlas Corrigan is back in my life—Ryle will never be appeased.
I wish you could tell me what decision to make. Do I sacrifice what I know will make me happy for the sake of avoiding the inevitable disruption Atlas’s presence would cause?
Or will I always have an Atlas-shaped hole in my heart unless I allow him to fill it?
He’s expecting me to text him, but I think I need more time to process this. I don’t even know what to say to him. I don’t know what to do.
I’ll let you know if I figure it out.
Lily
Chapter Three Atlas
“ ‘We finally reached the shore’?” Theo says. “You actually said that to her? Out loud?”
I shift uncomfortably on the couch. “We bonded over Finding Nemo when we were younger.”
“You quoted a cartoon.” Theo’s head roll is dramatic. “And it didn’t work. It’s been over eight hours since you ran into her, and she still hasn’t texted you.”
“Maybe she got busy.”
“Or maybe you came on too strong,” Theo says, leaning forward. He clasps his hands between his knees and refocuses. “Okay, so what happened after you said all the cheesy lines?”
He’s brutal. “Nothing. We both had to get to work. I asked if she still had my number, and she said she had it memorized, and then we said good—”
“Hold up,” Theo interrupts. “She has your number memorized?”
“Apparently so.”
“Okay.” He looks hopeful. “This means something. No one memorizes numbers anymore.”
I was thinking the same thing, but I also wondered if she memorized my number for other reasons. Back when I wrote it down and put it in her phone case, it was for an emergency. Maybe part of her feared the day she’d need it, so she memorized it for reasons that had nothing to do with me.
“So, what do I do? Text her? Call her? Wait until she reaches out to me?”
“It’s been eight hours, Atlas. Calm down.”
His advice is giving me whiplash. “Two minutes ago, you acted like eight hours without a text was too long. Now you’re telling me to calm down?”
Theo shrugs and then kicks my desk to make his chair spin. “I’m twelve. I don’t even have a phone yet, and you want my opinion on texting etiquette?”
It surprises me that he doesn’t have a phone yet. Brad doesn’t seem like he would be a strict father. “Why don’t you have a phone?”
“Dad says I can have one when I turn thirteen. Two more months,” he says wistfully.
Theo has been coming to the restaurant a couple of days a week after school since Brad’s promotion six months ago. Theo told me he wanted to be a therapist when he grows up, so I let him practice on me. At first, the talks we would have were intended for his benefit. But lately, I feel like I’m the one benefiting.
Brad peeks his head into my office in search of his son. “Let’s go. Atlas has work to do.” He motions for Theo to stand up, but Theo just keeps spinning in my desk chair.
“Atlas is the one who called me in here. He needed advice.”
“I’ll never understand whatever this is,” Brad says, pointing between me and Theo. “What advice do you get from my son? How to avoid your chores and win at Minecraft?”
Theo stands up and stretches his arms over his head. “Girls, actually. And winning isn’t the point of Minecraft, Dad. It’s more of a sandbox game.” Theo looks over his shoulder at me as he’s leaving my office. “Just text her.” He says that like it’s the obvious solution. Maybe it is.
