A Modern Romance

a writing exercise

I was on the fence about going, my boyfriend and I had just moved out of the city so I had been doing a fair amount of driving already. It would be a small wedding and I wasn’t sure if the invite had been obligatory or sincere. My ex and I have been friends for years, our son graduated high school this past year and we’d already been separated when he started junior kindergarten. By then we were both in new relationships but the wounds of our short lived whirlwind romance/marriage were open and weeping, both figuratively and literally. My new boyfriend sat on the curb as I sobbed into my cell phone, “He wants S. to come to J’s first day of school, is that fair? Is that normal?”. Now my son had finished high school and so much water had passed under the bridge. Lots had happened since that first day of school, his new relationship, my new relationship, a half sister for J, three moves to new houses, his break up, the pandemic, a ton of self tapes (we’re both actors), a new relationship for him, my move out of the city, and his marriage. His new partner is not an actor, younger, and is very warm and generous. I’m happy for him. After we broke up I realized that because we shared a kid and he was very much a hands on dad, any new partner of his would be in my son’s life. So I had a choice; I could fight it or become friends with them. S. made it easy. She was good for my ex, she took care of my son, we had a lot in common. I’m not going to lie I feel a bit sad that we’ve grown apart since they broke up. But I get it. She’s onto her next chapter, her kid is growing up. We don’t need to be in each other’s lives. Everyone is always complimenting me on how amazing it is that I can be friends with my ex and his new partner blah blah blah. But it was survival, too. I was alone in this city, my family was on the other coast. I had a choice, single mom in Los Angeles or co-parent in Toronto, hello free healthcare and less guns. And let’s face it, my son needed his dad. I needed support. Oh there were tears and heartbreak in the privacy or not so privacy of my home. Plus my ex and I were good friends, actually better friends than romantic partners. Or am I just nuts? My side of the family took a long time to adjust to the fact that I’m friends with my ex and his new, now ex fiancee. I tried to foist them onto my family at a Christmas, that back fired. I enjoyed babysitting their new child. I was happy J. had a sibling. Of course it was bittersweet because did I want another child? Maybe, but then it passed and so here we are.

So back to the wedding this summer. His new partner, did I say she’s not an actor and she can also do things like put up shelves and keep a regular job. She’s the age I was when I met him. He was eight years younger than me. I notice this equation with men who tend to date older women there’s a time when they start to get older and the women stay in the same age bracket. Is that bitchy? Okay, not to make it about me. So the wedding, their wedding. His new girlfriend had been so generous by allowing me to come over and have dinner with them over the past couple of months. Since moving out of the city my son has been staying with them and so I have been coming over more often. Letting me invade their place to record my self tapes. They’d even gone to the airport to pick up a dog I had rescued from Mexico because I was teaching. Their wedding was a small affair at a rented airbnb overlooking the lake. On my drive there in the morning I passed through some major summer storms. My ex’s family were there and his new partner’s parents and a sister who’d flown in from England and a few friends. It was small. My son was there with his girlfriend. When I arrived they were out wading in the lake. People were lounging on the deck. The sun had come out and the view was spectacular. His new wife had even made all the food for the event. Tacos! And my ex’s brother’s wife made one of her delicious cakes. The officiant wasa very tall man, even taller than my ex and they married on the grass overlooking the water as the sun peaked through the storm clouds. I took pictures with my son who wore a shirt he bought with his girlfriend and her parents. Everyone is growing up and moving on. He looked happy. My son looked happy. Being a mother wasn’t always easy for me. I’m a loner. I wasn’t always patient. Even though I love babies and children, I couldn’t take the boredom and endlessness of child rearing. Those first years of my son’s life were filled with drama and trauma, tears and fights. Driving around Los Angeles sneaking cigarettes in the Whole Foods parking lot as my baby sat in his car seat as I sobbed wondering how the fuck I got myself into this mess. Once, when my ex and I were newly separated (the first time) and my son was barely a year old, I met my best friend and her then husband for drinks at the Getty. An older man from Spain started to talk to me. He had on those pointy shoes that were very in style at that time. At first he tried to flirt with me but then when I blurted out my predicament, newly separated, a baby, should I move back with my ex to Toronto or stay in Los Angeles. He softened. “I raised my kids with my ex in Canada. And now they are older. It’s a good place. You’ll be okay whatever happens.” My eyes filled with tears as I sipped my Chardonnay in my Sex and the City outfit that my still breastfeeding boobs were busting out of. “Really?” He smiled a little sadly. Maybe for himself, realizing this hot mess of a woman was in no position to start up anything. And he was right. I mean there were still a couple years of confusion and heartbreak ahead of me. Playing Leonard Cohen as I got J. bathed and ready for bed in the deep winter of Toronto but here we are on the other side. I’m at my ex-husband’s wedding, our son is at University, and I’ve moved to a house on a lake with my long term boyfriend. It all happened in an instant. Onto the next chapter. I’ll be okay, whatever happens.