Dazed and Divorced Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  JOIN ME ON THE EDGE

  ROM-COM on the EDGE SERIES

  COMING SOON!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  DAZED and DIVORCED

  Rom-Com on the Edge Prequel

  Carol Maloney Scott

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright Carol Maloney Scott 2016

  Formatting by Rik - Wild Seas Formatting

  http://carolmaloneyscott.com

  To My Readers,

  Thank you for sharing the fun!

  CHAPTER ONE

  Claire

  “Honey, why are you making a sandwich on the floor?”

  Shannon looks at me with her big brown eyes and says, “Why are you sitting on the floor? Is that happy juice in your cup?”

  I ignore the child’s question and say, “Sweetie, you’re getting mayonnaise all over the place.”

  “Mommy, Claire is sitting on the floor and Sammy is licking my sandwich!”

  The little Pekingese is now getting in on the action while Mommy is preoccupied and the other lady (me) isn’t taking charge.

  I know this looks bad, but I am not drunk and sitting on the floor in front of the refrigerator, at my best friend’s house, in front of her little girl.

  Jane and I are sipping on Pina Coladas, but she makes them so weak. My ex-husband, Ron, was very anti-drinking, and therefore I have spent the better part of my life sober. Finally, I can live a little now that he’s history.

  I just decided to sit down for one second, and pet one of the many furry creatures who live in this house. For some reason, little Shannon likes to make her own sandwiches on the floor, especially when neither of her parents are paying any attention to what she’s doing.

  Jane comes barreling into the kitchen, carrying a package of hot dog buns and sweating. “Shannon, what are you doing? We’re going to eat dinner in a little while. And Claire, are you seriously sitting on the floor in front of my refrigerator? Again? You did that on Memorial Day.”

  “I just sat down to pet the dog. Calm down. I’m not corrupting your child with my happy juice, and I can’t help it if you have a barbecue every weekend in a vain attempt to match me up with an eligible man.”

  I wanted to add, ‘and you’re lucky I came back after last week.’ I have endured two fix-ups with Mike’s friends in as many weeks!

  Jane shakes her head and starts cleaning up the mess Shannon has made. She’s an adorable little girl, and most five-year-old kids wouldn’t have taken the initiative to make their own sandwich. I give the little chick an ‘A’ for effort.

  It’s the first Sunday in June, and my best friends and next door neighbors, Jane and Mike, have invited me over for a barbecue. Again. They feel sorry for the divorced girl, but Mike has to be running out of unattached friends.

  I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate their attempts to introduce me to available men, especially since I’ve been doing such a poor job of finding any on my own, but I’m a little worried that ‘newly divorced’ is a huge red flag. I’ve been separated for a little over a year now, and in my experience, many people in my situation take a while to stabilize.

  Last weekend, Pete (newly divorced) was nice enough, but spent the whole day talking about his ex-wife. And crying. Not all-out bawling, but I spotted some eye moisture.

  Now of course I didn’t make it any better by drinking a bit too much, but could I help it? And then Jane and Mike got all sanctimonious and cut me off when I yelled out that my underwear was getting uncomfortable. I was just trying to situate myself on one of their side chairs in the living room. I can’t help it if they buy stiff furniture.

  Overall, I am a very stable person. I know so far it doesn’t sound that way, but I have a good job in human resources at Bella Donna Press, I own my own home (well, I am trying to buy Ron out of his share as part of the divorce settlement), and I still manage to maintain a decent credit score, despite a slightly manic shoe addiction.

  But being divorced is no walk in the park, and now that I’m in my mid-thirties, I’m worried that it isn’t going to be easy to find a man to share the rest of my life with. Hence, the fact that I am sitting on Jane’s kitchen floor waiting to meet the next bachelor—two fucking weeks in a row.

  But this time I was really just petting the dog. My hangover last weekend was evil, and I’m not eager to repeat it.

  I know I’m probably making getting back out there harder than it needs to be, but I’m especially concerned about my prospects with the opposite sex because I’m not able to give a man one of the things…

  Mike appears in the kitchen, exasperated as always, and says, “Jane, can you keep control of things in here? I took all of the dogs out, answered about a million e-mails and voicemails, and now I need to go pick Tom up.”

  “Why are you picking him up?” Jane questions her frazzled husband, while offering me her hand. I allow her to help me stand up, and attempt to wipe any dog or sandwich debris off my white shorts.

  “He feels weird coming here by himself, and I’m just trying to help a buddy out. Besides, I need more gas for the barbecue, so I’m going to pick that up on the way.”

  Mike turns to me and says, “Hey, Claire Bear, you understand, right? Tom just needs a little push, and I promise he’s much more fun than Pete. He was a wet blanket, if I do say so myself. Now try to lay off the happy juice for just a little while longer. Or at least until the two of you can get drunk together.”

  He laughs and Jane shoots him a dirty look.

  “What? They can party today—Tom’s not driving and Claire only has to stumble next door. She was fine last weekend. We overreacted, Janie. You’ll see—this is gonna be a great day. Tom’s a fun guy, just like me.”

  Mike grabs his keys off the kitchen counter and kisses Jane on the head. “See you chicks in a few.” He runs out the door in his usual whirlwind.

  Jane sighs and says, “Shannon, why don’t you get Joey and come play outside? Claire and I’ll sit on the front porch and watch you.”

  “Yay!!!” Shannon goes flying up the stairs with her curls bouncing.

  “Oh, to be so young and innocent,” I say as I refill my happy juice.

  Jane is the best at making these, and unlike wine, I can drink these all day and stay sober, and avoid having a headache the next day. Well, usually I can. Last week things just got out of hand. And besides, she is clearly making them very weak today. I know what she’s up to.

  “Come on, let’s go sit on the rocking chairs. I think I need some happy juice, too.” Jane pours herself a drink and grabs a bag of barbecue chips, dumping them in a bowl.

  It’s officially summer now, so we don’t have to eat anything healthy. Not that I do most days, but my mother and doctors are after me about my bad habits.

  We get situated on the porch, and watch the kids grab their scooters and bikes from the open garage. There are already several other groups of kids playing in the cul-de-sac.

  We wave to
a couple of other moms, doing the same thing we’re doing. They’re all dressed in ‘mom’ attire, most likely from Target. I’m the only one in white shorts and a sequined purple halter top with matching sparkly sandals. Perhaps I am trying too hard, but as my mother says, if I let myself go in the fashion department, what’s next?

  Good old Mom.

  At first I hope no one comes over to crash our conversation, but they won’t. I don’t have anything in common with these suburban mothers. Plus, they all know my history and I am like a bad luck charm for their ‘married with children’ bliss.

  When things first started to go wrong for me, they came over with casseroles and fruit baskets. But after things spiraled further down into more seriously fucked up territory, they started bowing out of ‘Operation Cheer Up Claire’ one by one.

  But not Jane. She’s the only one who sees past the lifestyle differences, and befriended me when she and Mike moved in next door. Now she’s my best friend and confidante.

  Jane places the bowl of chips on a wooden end table and begins rocking. ‘So, I think Tom sounds like a good possible match for you. He and his wife had a Christmas party last year. He was nice, but she was a bitch. He’s probably glad to be rid of her, and they split up right after the holidays, so he’s technically not ‘newly’ divorced.”

  She knows this is a hot button for me now. “What did she do?” I ask.

  Why does everyone always say that exes are terrible people? I can’t possibly always be lucky enough to meet the good half of every former couple, but everyone says their divorces were the other party’s fault. Although, Pete from last weekend would have taken his ex back, that’s for sure. But that’s unusual. Most claim that they were married to Satan. Or Mrs. Satan.

  And hmm…come to think of it, I guess I do that with Ron. I do make him the villain.

  “She was just…hold on…Shannon, watch for cars! I swear, the way people drive in this cul-de-sac. And it’s always the people with no kids.”

  Jane finishes her rant and catches my eye. “Oh, I’m sorry, Claire. You know I don’t mean you.”

  I do know that she doesn’t mean me, yet I can’t help but feel a stab of sadness. It happens any time someone mentions children, pregnancy, babies, or anything having to do with what I can’t have.

  “So, anyway…the ex-wife. She berated him all night. She rolled her eyes when he and Mike were joking around, and she looked me up and down like my outfit wasn’t good enough for her big, fancy party. And the worst part was how she was shamelessly flirting with all of the men.”

  She lowers her voice, as if Mike and Tom can hear her in the car on the way here. “In the end, I think she was screwing more than one of Tom’s friends. To be honest, I was even a little suspicious of Mike for a while.”

  “No, that’s insane. Mike would never cheat on you.”

  Although he is always on the phone, late for social events, and just generally ADD about everything. Hmm…no, I refuse to believe it.

  “I know you’re right, but it was such a big scandal, and it was hard to believe any man in our circle resisted her clutches.” She peers out into the street again and screams, “Joey, put that down. What is that? It looks dirty…”

  My mind wanders while Jane monitors her offspring. I’m not really worried about Tom and whether or not he’s a good match. Truthfully, I just don’t see any man being ‘the one.’ I’m already jaded and I’ve barely begun the search.

  Ron and I had been together since high school. He waited for me to graduate from college and come back home to our small town in the New York City suburbs, and then we got married. After a few years, we moved down here to Richmond, Virginia together. We bought a house and started thinking about a family. Then the trouble began.

  “Claire, what are you thinking about?” Jane studies my expression with her concerned mom look. “Oh, and Tom has no kids, but Mike said he’s past the point where he cares. He’s in his early forties, and since his wife didn’t want any he gave up on that dream a long time ago. You’ll be on the same page.”

  I sigh and shift in my porch rocker. She really needs to get cushions for these things. The slats are already digging into my skinny butt. I smile and then frown as I think of Ron complementing my butt.

  Ron…if only he could have been a little more understanding. I know the miscarriages were hard on him, too. But were they really? After the second one it felt like he was giving up on the idea of having a family. Kind of like Tom, I guess. And me, too, now that I am truly and completely unable to try.

  I smile weakly at Jane to reward her for her efforts. She means well and just wants to see me happy. Like my nutty mother, who keeps trying to set me up with retirees from her church. Well, not quite, but the thought of me dating any man who could remotely want kids someday scares the crap out of her.

  I guess I can’t completely relate to that overprotective mother gene, as much as I wish I had gotten the chance.

  I munch on a chip and say, “I’m sure he’ll be great. So how far away does he live? Mike’s been gone a while.”

  Jane gets up and grabs my empty glass off the table. “You know how unfocused he is. I’m sure he stopped to get coffee and he’s yacking with the convenience store clerk. He’ll remember Tom when he texts and asks him where he is.”

  She laughs as she goes inside to retrieve even more happy juice for both of us.

  Mike does disappear a lot, and Jane never seems troubled, but maybe I am just looking at it from my very limited experience with men. Ron is the only man I’ve ever been with. I was sixteen when we met, and thirty-four when we separated last year. I shouldn’t make judgments about other relationships.

  Besides, Ron wasn’t friendly enough, or motivated enough, to leave the house for extended periods of time and talk to anyone. Mike is just a very outgoing person with a lot going on.

  Mike and Ron have remained friends after our split, but without the ‘cruise director’ wives to make plans for the four of us, I don’t think they have remained as close as me and Jane.

  However, I do know that Ron talks to Mike about me, and if Tom or any other guy turns out to be ‘the one,’ or even worthy of a real date, Ron will hear about it from ‘Loose Lips Mike.’

  However, Mike’s lips close up conveniently whenever I casually inquire about Ron’s status. He has to be dating, but I do get texts and phone calls from him about things that clearly don’t matter. As if he’s looking for excuses to contact me.

  I don’t care if his new neighbor reminds him of the lady we rented an apartment from when we first got married. Or that he turned all his underwear pink when he washed them with his red towels.

  Is he trying to keep his foot in the door?

  It doesn’t matter, because whether or not Tom, or any other guy, works out for me, Ron’s feet, and the rest of him, are staying outside my door. All of my doors. Even the one that is beginning to desperately need a visitor.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Claire

  “Mommy, Claire needs a Band-Aid for her boo-boo!” Shannon wails and runs in circles.

  If it wasn’t for the overall festive atmosphere (minus the wailing), I would say Jane is annoyed.

  “Shannon, you and Joey can go up to Laura’s to play with the kids. I’ll watch you walk over there.”

  Jane shoos the kids out the door and glances back at me, pursing her lips. I know that look.

  “Okay, have fun and be good. Tell Miss Laura to call Mommy when you’re ready to come home, and I’ll send Daddy to get you.” She shuts the door and mutters under her breath, “If Daddy ever gets his ass home.”

  I continue to study my finger, which seems to be bleeding a little, as Jane comes at me with all sorts of first aid gear.

  “How did you cut your finger? Let me see. Oh, it’s not that bad. Shannon made it sound like it was gushing blood like Niagara Falls.” Jane grabs my wound and…

  “I cut it…ow, that hurts.” I absolutely hate when anyone puts alcohol on cuts. I didn
’t cut it on a rusty nail in a landfill—it’s fine!

  “I was trying to be helpful and cut up the limes for the guys’ Coronas, and the knife slipped.”

  “Are you kidding me? You could have cut your finger off. Are you drunk?” She tightens the Band-Aid and gives me that ‘mom’ look again.

  “No, I am not. If you must know, I got distracted by the bird. I think he said my name.”

  Parrots are such weirdos. They’re always staring at you like they want to kiss you or peck your eyes out. “Come to Polly, Claire!” Yuck.

  Jane purses her lips and says, “You’re a nut. And where the hell are these men?”

  Since I have no idea, I slump down in one of the not-so-comfy side chairs in the living room, and attempt to dig my phone out of my tiny pocket.

  Hmm…Ron has texted me three more times. He wants to know where I am. I was told not to tell him because he wasn’t invited.

  Jane shakes her head and grabs her own phone. “Mike has been gone for over an hour. This is getting…Claire, what are you doing? Sit up in that chair. You look like a drunk contortionist. We are not having a repeat of last weekend.”

  “I am not drunk. And you should buy different chairs. Ones that are made for actual humans.”

  I glance down at my body, and yes, it is twisted a little funny, but I need my legs to be elevated. I feel a headache coming on. Oh shit, I dropped my phone. Now where is it? I think it’s under the chair.

  I sit up and lean forward, hanging my head off the edge with my butt sticking up…ooh...that makes me dizzy.

  Perhaps I should slow down on the drinks. They could be deceptively stronger than I think due to the fruity, tropical deliciousness. But Ron isn’t here to control me, so I will do what I want. The kids are gone and I only live next door. Like my friend Rebecca at work always says, ‘live a little, Claire.’

  “Claire, do you really want your ass pointed towards the front door when the guys get here?” Jane shakes her head.

  I’m getting tired of her lectures.