I would like to thank everyone for the kind reviews. I haven't really been keeping up with thanking people for that, time's short lately. But I do appreciate it, I really do. Enjoy chapter four!

Chapter 4

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After I cleaned up the kitchen, I pretty much collapsed onto the couch. The boys got home not long after, arguing about a fight in the school yard earlier. Apparently a game of friendly touch football got a little out of hand.

"He deserved that swing!" says Jack.

"It was a clean hit!" argues Chase.

"You two weren't fighting again, were you?" I ask from the couch, making them both jump.

"No, Mom," Jack heaves, looking shocked.

"No fresh bruises, see?" Chase says, sticking his neck out. He's right, there're no bruises on his face except for the one he received yesterday.

"Those are my good boys," I grin, getting up and giving them both a hug. They took something to eat, and immediately began talking about the fight again.

The boys were still arguing about it when they left for practice an hour later. It must have been quite the game.

When they left I began mentally preparing myself for the phone call I'd be receiving later tonight. I'm really not sure I'm ready for this.

I know Fulton's coming with me tomorrow, and while that makes the whole situation a thousand times easier, I'm still nervous.

I'm confused too, about my nervousness. Why am I nervous about seeing this man? A man I once loved? Really, it's Portman. I married that bastard, had children with him…granted not in that exact order, but that's more or less what happened. Why should I be nervous?

Well, I know why. What if he's been tremendously successful while he's been gone? What if he's wealthy, with a terrific job, and a beautiful girl? What if he sees me, Julie Gaffney, with just my six room apartment, my old demons, and my two boys, and laughs at me? Or worse, what if he sees my two boys, his two boys, and decides he wants to take them from me? What if he gets them?

But I'm getting ahead of myself, really. My anger that he just left us…the pain that he caused me, the pain he caused my children. I can deal with my own emotional hurt, but don't hurt my children. My instincts go into defense mode, and I'll do close to anything to defend them both from harm, and do just about anything to make them better.

When Jack was six, he fell from the monkey bars and snapped his wrist. He came to me crying, "Mommy, Mommy, it hurts, make it stop, Mommy, please."

Let me tell you, my car couldn't fly to that hospital fast enough. The hospital is twenty minutes from here, I got there in seven. I swear it; I must have been doing 95 miles per hour. I felt so guilty watching Jack squirm around in the back seat, crying and in pain. I'd have given anything for my wrist to be broken like his was, to be feeling his pain, and for my son to be fine. I'd rather be in agony myself than see my little boy suffering…and the same goes for Chase.

So my own emotions, whatever they are, come second. I'll deal with my own feelings in my own time, but don't hurt my children. Portman did that…and didn't seem to give a damn about it either. I can't deal with that.

Maybe that's really my problem. It's one thing if he treated me like badly, another if he treated my children that way. I'll be quiet about what he did to me, but he can't treat my children like that and not hear from me.

Unfortunately, his hearing it would have to require me saying it. My saying it would mean a confrontation. Have I mentioned before how I really don't want to do this? Yes, I think I have.

Every so often, when I get nervous, I compulsively clean. My mother used to do it as well. I never thought I'd turn into my mother, but in a lot of ways I have. So right now, I'm going to vacuum, because I don't know what else to do with myself. The noise of the vacuum is a good distraction. It must be kind of fun, being a piece of dust, sucked in the tube, then spun around in the container over and over again…sort of like an endless amusement park ride.

I like amusement park rides. When I was a kid, I used to love going on the roller coasters and rides. The ones where you went up and down at break-neck speed and the ones that spun you round. One year, I brought Connie to spend the summer with me and my grandparents in New Jersey. They moved to New Jersey from Maine, because I think it's a law that once you reach a certain age you have to move to New Jersey or Florida. Anyway, we went to Six Flags Great Adventure. It was one of those perfect summer days where it was warm but not humid, and Connie and I rode all the rides laughing and yelling. That was one of the best summers I ever had, and that was probably one of the best days.

I shut the vacuum off and admire my handy work. The carpets in the apartment are definitely less dusty. I move onto dusting, polishing, and scrubbing. A few hours later, my apartment considerably cleaner, I check my watch.

5:30. Jack and Chase are due back soon. I sit down on the couch, tired, but feeling better. I never thought cleaning would be a way for me to relieve stress. I've gotten soft in my old age. I wonder, what should I make for dinner? Nevermind. Pizza sounds good tonight.

I call up the local place and order a pie, half pepperoni and half mushroom, and leave fifteen minutes later to pick it up. When I get back, Jack and Chase are finally home, sitting at the table, doing some type of homework or another.

"Hey guys, pizza tonight," I say putting the box on the counter and pulling plates out of the cabinet.

"Sounds good," Jack says, shutting his books and tossing them on the floor.

"Has he called yet?" Chase asks, taking a slice of pepperoni pizza and putting it on his plate.

"No, he hasn't," I answer quietly, putting a slice of mushroom on my own plate and settling down at the table.

Jack, also eating mushrooms, elbows Chase, and gets up to go to the refrigerator for something to drink before Chase can retaliate.

"Alright, alright," Chase mutters.

"What's going on?" I ask my sons. There's obviously something they're not telling me.

"Nothing, Mom," Chase says, and busies himself with his pizza again. He always picks the pepperonis off and eats them first. It's sort of a compulsive habit of his. He always does it. Today, though, it's just an excuse to not answer my questions.

"Jack?" I press.

"What, Mom?"

"What aren't you two telling me?"
"Nothing, Mom."

"Jack…"

"All right, all right. Listen, we-" he indicates himself and Chase "-were talking before you got home. We know how hard this whole thing is on you, and if you don't want to go, we don't have to do it."

"Nonsense. Of course we'll go."

"But Mom, it's hurting you-" Jack begins.

"What do you mean? No, it's not," I defend myself.

"Bull. Yes it is," Chase insists, finally looking up from his pizza. "Mom, you only vacuum, dust, polish, and scrub this much when you're hurting, and this place is spotless. Hell, I could eat off the floor."

"I'm not hurting. This place just needed to be cleaned," I lie. Well, I'm not exactly lying. I'm not hurting, I don't think. I'm just nervous.

"Are you sure?" Jack asks through a mouthful of mushroom, tomato sauce, and cheese.

"Yes, and don't talk with your mouth full."

"Mom, if you don't want to go-" Jack starts with an empty mouth, but I cut him off again.

"Jack, Chase, we're going tomorrow. I've worked it all out. I even convinced Fulton to come."

"Uncle Fulton's coming?" Chase says, eyes lighting up.

Yes, my boys call him 'Uncle' Fulton. Technically, he's not my brother or Portman's, but they've known him since they were kids. The only reason I didn't let them call him 'Dad' is because at the time I wouldn't accept the fact Portman was gone, and kept hoping he'd be back soon. He didn't come back, and by the time I got over that, it was Uncle Fulton. Besides, Portman and Fulton were, at one point, Bash Brothers. It's not blood, but it's close, right?

"Yes, Uncle Fulton's coming," I smile, and Jack and Chase both look overjoyed. They adore that man. I wonder if he knows that.

"How'd you talk him into it?" Jack asks, speaking with his mouth full again.

"Jack, swallow before you talk," I scold. "I got him to come by asking over a nice lunch."

"Cool," Chase grins, taking a swig of his iced tea.

The boys eat seconds, and then thirds. My nerves returning, I force down my first slice, then wrap the left over slice for some other day, putting it in the freezer. Jack and Chase finish their homework, and rotate in and out of the shower. The phone rings when they're finished, at around 8:30.

I let it ring twice more, and then pick it up. No need for him to know I'm sitting right by the phone, waiting for his call, like the desperate teenager I was fifteen years ago.

"Julie Gaffney speaking," I say coolly.

"Hey, Julie."

"Hi, Portman."

"Have you made up your mind?" he asks, sounding hopeful.

"Yes, we've made up our minds," I say, emphasizing 'we'. I hope he remembers he has two sons who also needed to consider the matter. There's a long pause. I hope he's feeling uncomfortable, because in spite of my earlier nerves, I'm actually enjoying the thought of him sweating.

"Uh…Julie?" he says.

"Yes?" I say sweetly.

"What did you three decide?"

"Oh right. We'll we've thought about it, and we decided we'd come."

"Oh good," he says breathlessly, as if he'd been holding his breath. "What time?"

"Before 4:00," I say. "Jack and Chase have a game around that time."

"A game?"

"Yes. A game."

"What type of game?" he tries to ask casually. Keyword: tries. I can tell he's excited. He's hoping it's hockey. I don't say anything with for a moment, to make it seem like I'm not hanging on his every word. After a moment, he says, "Julie?"

"Oh sorry," I say sweetly again. "What did you say?"

"What type of game?"

"Oh…hockey."

"Really?"

"Yes," I answer. I guess he's really excited he'll have something to talk to his sons about.

"What positions do they play?" he sounds really thrilled now.

"Portman, why don't you wait until tomorrow, until about 1:30, and ask them yourself."

"Oh, right."

"So 1:30 then?" I ask, wishing now to get off the phone and watch some television.

"Yes, 1:30 is fine."

"Oh, and Portman?"

"Yeah, Julie?"

"Remember when you said I could bring someone?" I ask.

"Yes."

"I'm bringing Fulton."

I hear a distinct gagging noise on the other end of the line, and have trouble controlling my giggling. "Fulton?" he says, his voice strained now.

"Yes, Fulton."

"Fulton Reed?"

"Yes, Fulton Reed."

"Oh…well, I'll see you tomorrow then?" he asks, regaining his composure.

"See you then," I say, and sensing his panic, I feel myself grin.

"I love you Julie," he says.

It's my turn to be startled. "What do you-" but the phone clicks before I can ask. "What do you mean 'I love you'?" I mumble into the phone, even though I know nobody's listening at the other end. "If you loved me, you wouldn't have left me miserable and alone with two little boys to raise."

The joy at Portman's panic I felt a few moments ago is replaced with pain again. I hate this. It's like in The Lord of the Rings where every year after Weathertop, Frodo feels the pain from when he was stabbed. It's an old wound where I still feel pain, a scar I'll never lose.

I'm sitting staring at the TV when Jack and Chase wander in.

"Mom, did everything go okay?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, it went fine."

"Do you need anything?" Chase asks.

"No, I'm fine."

"All right. We're going to play videogames in our room. Goodnight, Mom," Chase says.

"Goodnight boys," I say, forcing a smile.

Jack doesn't look convinced, and Chase looks skeptical himself, but they both kiss my cheek- something they rarely do anymore- and head off to their room. I watch TV for a while, and turn in at 10:00. I set my alarm for 9:00 tomorrow morning. Normally I'd set it for 10:00 or 10:30, but I have a funny feeling that I'm going to be spending a lot of tomorrow morning picking out an outfit, trying things on, throwing clothes around, on and off…the same way I did when I was an insecure eighteen year old senior in high school.