MONDAY 3:27 PM
Incoming message from Mom: You sure you don’t want a party for your birthday? Thirteen is a big one. . .
Cleo: I’m sure
Mom: Okay. . .
Mom: Let me know if you change your mind.
Mom: Grandma is going to bring potato salad and macaroni and cheese. Your favorites.
Cleo: ok
Mom: And I’m going to get some ribs and chicken from that place you like on Ardmore.
Cleo: ok
Mom: Do you want a white lily cake from Food Glorious Food, or do you want Grandma to bake you a chocolate cake? She offered.
MONDAY 4:13 PM
Meredith: Hello?
Meredith: Cleo, what’s the matter?MONDAY 4:20 PM
Cleo: Nothing. I fell asleep.
Meredith: What kind of cake do you want?
Cleo: Doesn’t matter.
Meredith: But it’s your birthday.MONDAY 5:01 PM
Meredith: Cleo?
~
TUESDAY 3:18 PM
Keith: What time is Cleo’s birthday dinner again?
Meredith: 6:00
Keith: Saturday?
Meredith: No, Friday. You agreed to let her stay for dinner and join us, rather than picking her up at the usual time. Saturday is her birthday.
Keith: I know Saturday’s her birthday. I was there.
Meredith: <thumbs up emoji>
Keith: Jamilah is coming to dinner with me.
Meredith: <thumbs down emoji>
Meredith: It’s a ***family*** birthday dinner. And I already told you, it’s not good for Cleo to be caught up in the revolving door of our dating lives.
Keith: You seeing somebody, Meredith?
Meredith: You’re missing the point.
Keith: Ah so you’re not dating anyone LOL
Meredith: WTF? Are you 12???? Divorce is a trauma for our child. We’ve been separated for less than three months. Cleo needs time to heal.
Keith: Let me guess: You read that in one of those co-parenting books.
Meredith: Yes, I did. But you don’t have to believe me. Just talk to Cleo’s therapist. I gave you her number.
Keith: I know my kid. I don’t need a therapist, or a book, or you, telling me that I’m a bad father.
Meredith: No one is saying you’re a bad father. I’m just saying again that Cleo doesn’t need to be around anyone you’re dating. Or anyone I’m dating. It’s too soon.
Keith: She’s already met Jamilah.
Meredith: And she shouldn’t have.
Keith: Here we go. . .
Meredith: Yes, here we fucking go. Cleo doesn’t need to know anything about your dating life at this point. Like I told you before: She doesn’t get another childhood. This is it. Five more years. Would it have killed you to wait until she’s not so tender?
Keith: Like you waited to pull the plug on our family?
Meredith: I pulled the plug on our *marriage*. Big difference.
Keith: I think you’re the one who’s tender. And bitter and mad. Well, be mad at yourself. I want Jamilah to know and Cleo to know AND YOU TO KNOW that I’ve moved on.
Meredith: FOR THE FIFTYLEVENTH TIME I don’t give a flying fuck that you’re dating someone! Just keep Cleo out of it. Yes, as you reminded me, you don’t need my permission. Rushing this is going to backfire on you. If you pump the brakes now, you’ll be giving a relationship between Cleo and Jamilah a fighting chance, in the long run.
Keith: LOL. Like you care about their relationship having a fighting chance.
Meredith: I care about what’s best for Cleo. And you introducing her to someone soon after you left isn’t in her best interest.
Keith: You say that like I just up and moved out one day! You wanted this, not me!
Meredith: I didn’t want it to be like this. Cleo is really struggling. She barely comes out of her room, doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to spend time with her friends anymore. I have to beg her to do her homework. Textbook signs of depression.
Keith: YOU wanted this, and now you’re surprised that our child of divorce is showing signs of being a child of divorce.
Meredith: But it doesn’t have to be as bad as you’ve made it by introducing your girlfriend so soon.
Keith: You’re the one with the problem: bitterness, regret, loneliness. Cleo is fine! She likes Jamilah. They have fun. And at my house, Cleo eats, she does her homework, and she invites friends over.
Meredith: PLEASE! Do you even know her friends’ pronouns?
Keith: Pronouns???
Meredith: Cleo breezed through her honors classes last trimester, but now her grades have dropped. She’s in danger of failing. Which you would know if you ever checked the parent portal.
Keith: Go to hell.
Meredith: Go to therapy.~
Subject: Cleo’s birthday Sun, Feb. 13, 10:31 PM
From: Meredith Sharpe <msharpewilson@gmail.com>
To: Keith Wilson <wilsonkl767@gmail.com>
Keith:
Do you remember Cleo’s first birthday party? She kept tugging off her party shoes and ended up running around barefoot the whole time? The theme was fairies, and I dressed us both like Tinkerbell. Remember I got you that male fairy costume, but your outdated notions about masculinity wouldn’t allow you to wear it? Not even to make special memories for your child?
Remember Cleo’s third birthday party and how I transformed the first floor into the Hundred Acre Wood for a classic Winnie the Pooh-themed party? The living room, with couch cushions, bedroom pillows, and throw pillows piled high, was the area with Big Stones and Rocks, a perfect place for jumps and soft landings? Remember how Cleo called to us as she bounced, “MommyDaddy, look at me, MommyDaddy!” because we were, for her, a single unit of love? And remember how your mother pretended she couldn’t remember my “white girl” name? We had been married for five years at that point. And remember how she complained loudly in front of our guests? “Back in the day,” she said, “we gave them kids hot dogs and Lays potato chips, and got a cake from the grocery store and one of them cartons of ice cream with the chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry in it.” [It’s called Neapolitan.] “Now that was a birthday party,” your mother said. “This” — and she gestured then at our build-your-own-taco bar and the miniature “hunny” pots filled with dulce de leche ice cream lining the dining room table — “This is just putting on airs, Marigold.“
God rest your mother’s soul, but she was a witch.
And I’m sure you remember Cleo’s fifth birthday. The cracks were just starting to show in our marriage, and you got this wild hair to organize Cleo’s party. Not because you gave a shit about the parties or had any organizational skills whatsoever. No, you insisted on planning the party and refused any help from me, all because I innocently mentioned that I was tired of doing all the mental and emotional labor for our family, including event planning. Your exact words were: “You’re tired because you wear yourself out putting on airs, Marigold.” And you cracked yourself up laughing.
But that wasn’t funny. At all. You (and your mother, rest her rotten soul) have always mistaken care, thoughtfulness, foresight, and attention to detail for “putting on airs.” What you consider extra, I consider essential. In layman’s terms, you’re a cheap bastard and you’re careless with people’s hearts, Keith. And careless in general. Which is why the guests you invited to Cleo’s party all arrived at the house the weekend before Cleo’s birthday instead of the weekend of her birthday. Remember how you left me to set out cans of barely cold La Croix and bowls of microwave popcorn, while you ran out to the store to get hot dogs, Lays, a cake (Happy Birthday, Theo???), and Neapolitan ice cream?
Then there was Cleo’s 10 ½ birthday which we celebrated that August because she wanted to have a pool party. I doubt you and I spoke more than 10 words to each other the entire day. But Cleo was happy. She no longer called us MommyDaddy. She’d outgrown that. And, perhaps, she knew even then that we were no longer a unit.
But I like to think that she knew right up to the end that we remained united in our love for her, that we both endeavored to do what was best for her, albeit separately. Last year, at her birthday sleepover, we made a joint appearance when it was time to sing Happy Birthday and eat cake. And then we returned to our respective corners. I don’t know if Cleo will remember that.
But we both know what Cleo is going to remember about her 13th birthday. She’s going to remember how you treated her and her besties to a spa day complete with a three-tiered princess cake and pizza for lunch, and a limo ride. She’s going to remember how after you and Jamilah dropped off her last friend, you popped a bottle of champagne in the back of that limo and announced your engagement. On her birthday.
On. Her. Birthday.
While we’re still legally married.
Have you completely lost your mind?
I’m so angry right now, I’m shaking. Are you trying to hurt your daughter? Because that’s what’s happened.
And save the bullshit about how CLEO IS FINE. Cleo is absolutely NOT fine. Of course she’s not going to tell you how she feels. She knows you expect her to be happy for you. She doesn’t want to risk upsetting you. Besides, when would she even have a chance to talk to you about anything when, apparently, Jamilah never leaves your side and Cleo hasn’t been alone with you in weeks?
You have five years to make this right instead of making it worse. Please, for Cleo’s sake, rethink this. She needs you to do right by her. She’s already struggling. I know you don’t believe me. Call the school guidance counselor. Make an appointment for family counseling. If you don’t want me there, fine. Just go with Cleo. Please, Keith. Do what’s best for Cleo.
~M
~
Subject: Re: Cleo’s birthday Mon, Feb. 14, 12:17 PM
From: Keith Wilson <wilsonkl767@gmail.com>
To: Meredith Sharpe <msharpewilson@gmail.com>
Dear Meredith:
Keith is not interested in traveling down memory lane with you. (This is Jamilah.)
We should meet. I tried to say “hi” the last time you came to pick up Cleo but you drove off before I could make it down the driveway. What are you afraid of, Meredith? The future? I’m Cleo’s future, and, by extension, yours too. And the future is bright, so you should embrace it/me.
Speaking of me, I’m the newest cast member on the hit reality TV show Keeping Up with the Real Second Wives Who Bake. We haven’t taped any episodes yet because the producers won’t film Cleo without both parents’ permission. All the paperwork is attached, along with an NDA for both you and Cleo. Please sign at your earliest convenience, no later than Friday. Shooting begins the following Monday. We can’t imagine doing this without Cleo; her age demographic does extremely well with test audiences. You know, teen angst and rebellion, or whatever. And apparently dogs test better than cats, but the producers said that my kitty Badu stays in the picture! (Get it? I love old Hollywood!)
Anyway… I don’t mean to be dismissive of your concerns. I too am a child of divorce. My parents divorced twenty years ago and hated each other the way they were supposed to. And look at me! I turned out just fine. Friendliness between you and Keith would be confusing for Cleo. Besides, conflict between the two of you will guarantee that we’ll be featured in every episode!
By the way, I’m encouraging Keith to file for 50-50 custody. This every-other-weekend arrangement isn’t going to yield enough footage.
I know what you’re thinking, and I’m sure I can get the producers to script in a man for you. But, and I say this gently, you will first need to do something about your weight. My sister, who is your age, refers to her belly fat as her COVID-19 baby. But that was three pandemics ago, and none of this is a laughing matter. Thankfully, I have managed to keep a flat tummy, all praises to Pilates, waist trainers, and intermittent fasting. Follow my fitness journey on Instagram; I know you stalk me there anyway.
Did Keith tell you how we met? I was just about to delete the Afrindr app (it’s Tinder for people of the African Diaspora). Because every guy I matched with couldn’t spell my name or couldn’t afford my bills (or both!). And then there was Keith. His profile was so sweet! “Anyone looking for a good man? A workout buddy? Or maybe nice guys really do finish last…” Meredith, you set that man out on the curb like a gently used piece of Arhaus furniture. Well, you know what they say: One woman’s trash is another woman’s new Mercedes G-Wagon. (Keith got it for me for our two-month anniversary!)
But everything happens for a reason. Keith and I were meant to be. Even our names are perfect for the spin-off reality show I’m manifesting for us: Jamilah and Keith: something-something- something. It’s giving very 90s Black rom-com, no? Meredith and Keith . . . sounds like a biracial couple who wear garden clogs and own an Old English sheepdog. Plus, you’re both engineers; too matchy-matchy.
I heard you and Cleo have a little girls’ getaway planned for the long weekend. Private beach! Nice. That would be a perfect place for a let’s-try-to-bond-but-it-all-falls-apart scene for the three of us. I’ll send a note to the producers.
Have a safe trip and be sure to send me the signed paperwork before you hit the road!
Warmly,
Jamilah
P.S. How do I go about resetting Keith’s password to the parent portal? He can’t find the email from the school.
P.P.S. Happy Valentine’s Day!
~
MONDAY 11:01 PM
Meredith: It’s highly inappropriate for your girlfriend to contact me. I won’t be responding to that email.
Keith: What email?~
Subject: Re: Cleo’s birthday Tue, Feb. 15, 12:48 AM
From: Keith Wilson <wilsonkl767@gmail.com>
To: Meredith Sharpe <msharpewilson@gmail.com>
Dear Meredith:
Snitches get stitches! LOL j/k
Just a gentle reminder from your friendly neighborhood IG model-turned-reality TV star (soon to be!) Can you sign the papers already? 🙂
Warmly,
Jamilah
~
TUESDAY 12:54 AM
Meredith: Please retrieve your balls from your girlfriend’s purse and tell her to leave me alone. If she persists in harassing me, perhaps a family court judge can assist you in getting her to stop. It’s certainly not in Cleo’s best interest to be around someone so unhinged. I’ve blocked your email address. If you need to reach me for any matter concerning Cleo, text me.
Keith: So now you’re mad I bought her a Coach purse
Meredith: Wait what?~
Subject: Guess who! Wed, Feb. 16, 6:11 AM
From: Future Mrs. Wilson <bookings@jamilahluxurious.com>
To: Meredith Sharpe <msharpewilson@gmail.com>
Meredith:
It’s in Cleo’s best interest that we remain cordial. So I’m asking nicely…this time. Please send the signed paperwork and the information re: the parent portal.
TIA,
Jamilah
~
WEDNESDAY 6:19 AM
Meredith: Your lawyer will be hearing from mine. Tell your dingbat girlfriend that I said thanks for sending me all that ammo.
Keith: Is that a threat?
Meredith: No, it’s a promise.~
SATURDAY 7:46 AM
Meredith: I went out for a walk on the beach. Didn’t want you to be alarmed if you woke up while I was out. There are starfish everywhere out here. Overnight hundreds of them washed ashore. You should come see.SATURDAY 8:01 AM
Cleo: Sea stars
Meredith: ?
Cleo: Sea stars is their proper name, not starfish
Meredith: Oh! You learn something new everyday. I heard this story once about a man who was walking along the beach after a bad storm. A bunch of sea creatures washed up the shore, and the man could tell they were either dead or dying. He noticed a little boy throwing some of the starfish back into the ocean…
Meredith: *SEA STARS back into the ocean. The man asked the boy why he was wasting his time. There were thousands of stranded sea stars on the shore; he couldn’t possibly save them all. “So what you’re doing doesn’t matter, in the grand scheme of things,” the man told the boy.
Meredith: The boy picked up a struggling sea star, tossed it into the ocean and said, “It mattered to that one.”
Meredith: Are you dressed? Come down and help me? There aren’t thousands here, but definitely hundreds.
Meredith: <sends photo of the stranded sea stars>
Cleo: Don’t touch them!!!!!!
Meredith: Why not???
Cleo: First of all, their arms are fragile. They can regenerate, but handling and throwing them can easily hurt or damage them. Plus, we have billions of bacteria on our hands that can kill them.
Meredith: Wow.
Meredith: Sometimes it’s easy to hurt even when you're trying to help.
Cleo: Like you telling me I can’t see dad anymore until you go to court?
Meredith: Yeah. Like that. I’m so sorry, Cleo. Your dad isn’t using the best judgment right now, and I have to protect you. And you and me… we have to communicate. We have to be honest with each other about what’s going on. Even when it’s hard.
Cleo: Yeah right <eye roll emoji>
Meredith: ???
Cleo: You told me that you and Dad made the decision together. You said, “Sometimes parents have grown-up problems that they work hard to fix. For years. But no matter how hard they try, the problems remain. And we’ve decided to get a divorce.” No, Mom. YOU wanted a divorce. You lied.
Meredith: Where is all of this coming from, Cleo?
Cleo: Jamilah told me the truth.~
Subject: Re: Guess who! Sat, Feb. 19, 8:49 AM
From: Meredith Sharpe <msharpewilson@gmail.com>
To: Future Mrs. Wilson <bookings@jamilahluxurious.com>
Let me tell you one goddamn thing: If you contact my daughter again, the first episode of that reality show will feature your funeral.
You asked what I’m afraid of. Only two things: 1) That I will catch a case behind this bullshit with you and Keith and won’t be around to see my child grow up. 2) And yes, the future. I’m terrified that you and Keith are ruining Cleo’s life. That she feels abandoned by him and usurped by you. That she will go looking for love in all the wrong places. That she will feel worthless. That, as a result, she will become a junkie prostitute. All because you and her father are too childish and self-absorbed to consider what’s best for her.
Fuck all the way off (and that includes you too, Keith),
Meredith
P. S. It will be a cold day in hell before I help you access the parent portal.
~
SATURDAY 8:22 PM
Meredith: Please come down and eat something, honey.
Cleo: I told you I’m not hungry.
Meredith: Okay. The seafood linguini is in the fridge, if you change your mind. Love you.
SATURDAY 10:35 PM
Cleo: Do you even know why so many sea stars are out there?
Meredith: No…
Cleo: Climate change. Warmer water, changing current patterns, more hurricanes… all of that pushes them ashore. It’s not something that happened overnight. Last trimester, I did a report on this for my environmental science class. You were traveling a lot that month. Dad helped me with it.
Meredith: Oh, I didn’t realize that he helped you. I’d love to read your report, if you wouldn’t mind sharing it.
Cleo: Ok. I’ll email you the link.
~
MONDAY 7:11 PM
Meredith: I never wanted some random judge making decisions for our family. But here we are.
Meredith: I don’t want to fight with you. But if that’s what it takes to help Cleo heal, I will.
Meredith: In the meantime, it’s not right for me to keep her from you. I warned you that these next five years are critical, that Cleo is counting on us to protect her and help her thrive, that if we don’t act in her best interest, she will continue to suffer. So now I’m going to heed my own warnings.
Meredith: I’m still so angry with you that I could spit.
Keith: Take a number. Jamilah’s mad at me too.
Meredith: Oh?
Keith: Yeah. Without you and Cleo, the producers weren’t interested in having her on the reality show.
Meredith: Oh…
Meredith: I could be really, really petty right now, but I won’t.
Keith: Thank you.END
