Mother's Day: 

This Is It

A knock at the door captures my attention. I put down the rag that I had been wiping off chocolate cupcake mix with.

"I got it." I stick my intex into the emptied bowl and lick it whilst my daughter isn't looking. "Be careful putting the cupcakes in the oven, Miyah, I wouldn't want you to burn yourself."

That being said,I head to the door. As I pass the living room window I notice something strange. A cop car is parked on the curb near my lawn. A few feet away is my husband's car.

This is strange since; one, there is absolutely no reason for a cop to be at my home, and, two, my estranged husband moved out of our home. He has no reason, besides the children, to be here. Especially not with a cop. Plus, he usually calls before coming, since our children know nothing about our marital problems.

I open the door slightly. My eyes immediately land on an officer, one who is close friends with my husband and I.

"Hey Lace." He says pulling me out of my state of shock and confusion.

"Hey, Richards." I greet my old friend by his last name. "What are you doing here?" My voice holds genuine confusion.

He smiles. "Is that any way to greet an old friend?" He laughs dryly. He then runs a nervous hand through his hair.

"I guess not," The words drag as my eyes fall to the floor. The awkwardness had filled the air, leaving me uneasy. This isn't something particularly normal for either of us. Frederick Richards is a very humorous guy. Our personalities feed off of each other, leaving everyone in the room gasping for air. "Umm, would you like to come in, Miyah and I are making cupcakes if you want one?"

"Oh, no- no, I couldn't." He quickly declines. "Your husband... well that's actually very inappropriate," he says more to himself than to me. I raise a brow at his words. "Jerrid sent me here. He wanted me to give you this..."

I take the stapled stack of paper into my hands. My throat instantly goes dry and my hands begin to tremble as my eyes had immediately landed on the wrong word.

Divorce.

"I'm sorry, Lace, I truly am. I hate to be a bearer of bad news,"

"No," my voice is dry and horse, "it's fine." I say still in a daze. I blink up at him before completely opening the door. Unlike before, my husband is in plain view, leaning against his car.

He waves at me, like an asshole. As he begins to walk our way Richards takes notice. He apologises one last time adding, "Happy Mother's Day," before meeting my husband in the middle of the lawn. After a while Jerrid nods. We then both watch as Richards drives away.

Once my eyes finally pull away from the patrol car my "husband" is only a few inches in front of me. I glare at him.

"Richards said it was a bad idea to talk to you right now. Why would he think such a thing?" Jerrid shakes his head from side to side. "He truly needs a break, I think that job is getting to 'em. He's quite a strange man, don't you think?"

I take a deep breath in, in an attempt not to hit him. My body trembled with anger and disgust. If my kids weren't here I'd have hit him. I don't believe in violence but I really.... really would have hit him.

"Leave. I'll sign your damned papers, just leave my house, now." The angry words seep through gritted teeth. It's as if I'm trying to contain all the indignation inside me, and I don't know why. He deserves to know that what he is doing isn't right to me nor our children.

He laughs a bit. "This is my home too, you know."

I glare up at him. The red of the now dimming sky reflects off of his chestnut hair. The way the rays shine, seemingly, directly on him makes him seem like even more of an asshole.

I don't even have to look down at the Divorce Petition for him to take the hint. "Not for long." I say brazenly and go to close the door on him.

He grabs a hold of the handle. "I see that you're upset." He says as he leans into the house and grabs his briefcase. "I'll be back in three days to pick up the rest of my stuff."

His face grows closer, almost as if he's coming in for a kiss. I turn my head away as he attempts to lay a kiss on the corner of my lips. I eye him as he pulls away. He backs out of the doorway with suitcase in hand. He had left his case when he spent the night here last night.

Oh God. He was here. Last. Night. I can't believe he'd do something like that. He's such a sadistic, malicious asshole. A divorce isn't something you plan to do over night, especially not a night that you spend with your wife and your kids. This had been premeditated. Which meant he knew that the next day he'd be sending me a giant "fuck you" via our close friend. He's such an asshole.

I close the door and back into the house in a daze. I couldn't feel myself thinking, I'm just doing at this point. "Watch your brother and sister for a second Miyah, I'll be right back." The words unconsciously leave my lips as my body leads me up the stairs.

I'm carried to the end of the hall where my bedroom is, then inside of my walk in closet. It's the place I always go to let out my anger and frustration without being seen or heard. I figured out years ago that this place was the only place that I could do so freely.

But the emotions surging through my body right now, I haven't registered yet. It's a mix of shock, horror, hurt, and fear for my children. I don't know what the future holds for any of us or how they'll react to it. My youngest son and daughter have been sheltered from everything their entire lives. My eldest has only seen a glimpse of the real world, and will catch on as soon as we announce our divorce. My life has been so exacted at this point, I'm not sure what uncertainty looks like anymore, but I'm know this is it.

I simply don't understand why am I so angry. My husband and I hit a very rough patch in our marriage months ago. Even before then our love life had been nonexistent. We went on with life like robots, focusing solely on our work, our image, and our kids. We wanted to have so much of a picture perfect life that we truly had no life. Everything was planned, coordinated, and calculated exactly. Our love got masked by our image, and then it just faded.

I thought he'd get over whatever was bothering him if we spent sometime apart. He never truly told me what was wrong, he was so vague, and I never really asked. That was probably our biggest downfall. But I was content with our love-less lifestyle and so was he. So I thought.

I look down at the Petition, breathing in a shaky breath. I slide down the shelves of shoes until my butt hits the ground. I feel no pain, not physical anyway. It feels as if my heart has sunken or someone has grabbed a hold of it and won't let go.

My fingers flip through the Petition. I try to read it but end up only fiddling with the pages. That's until I catch a glimpse at his signature. My head falls back onto a shelf, where it lands on a pair of heels. I can't comprehend what the hell is going on. He is the only thing I've known since we met at sixteen. We've built an empire together and he wants to throw all of that away, on Mother's Day. Fucking, perfect.

A single tear slips past my cheek as the truth finally forms in my mind behind a single thought. I wish we could've worked things out. Not for either of our companies, our image, and not even just our children. But because I do care about him, and I don't want us to end like this.

I pull my head up at the sound of the creaking of the door. A small head with short curly hair peeks inside. Their big brown eyes inspect the closet before landing on me. I quickly wipe away the tears. As I do so the door opens even more. Miyah is holding her three year old sister in her arms.

The youngest two run up and hug me, clinging to my body with all of their might. I bite my lip in an attempt to wield the tears back in and keep my newly formed sobs at bay. Miyah walks in and kneels in front of me. She wipes away a stray tear before looking to the source of my predicament.

A small sigh leaves her lips as she picks up the papers and places them on the shelf. She then lays on top of me, her legs between mine and her head on my shoulder. The babies play an almost simultaneous kiss to both my cheeks, something we'd been playfully doing since we adopted them.

"It's okay Mommy." Jace says as he holds me tightly.

"Happy Mother's Day." Miyah nods and looks up at me with a strained smile. "We love you."

"I love my babies too." I say holding them close. Only a few tears flow freely before I force them back to cherish this perfect moment.

A three, five, and fourteen year old handles this situation better than me and their father ever could. They are still young, so I hope they can understand when they're older, but Myiah knows now. Her and I will just have to get through this together.