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Homework: Write a likable character, but write them in such a way that the reader does not want them to succeed.
Cupcakes, Baseball, and Other Lies
"Are you going to be home late tonight, Jade?" John asked at some point on Monday, leaning in the doorway. He watched her move around the room, touching up her makeup, scrolling through her phone, preparing for something that clearly didn’t involve him.
"Excuse me? That's not a concern of yours, John. Are you not working from home today? You don't need me to be home to babysit for you during your time with the kids." As she said this, she hadn't moved her eyes away from the mirror, still blending eyeshadow in slow, deliberate strokes.
"It's because Alexis asked me if you would be home to help her make cupcakes-"
"Seriously? I'm busy, you make them!"
"Louis wanted to know too. He said maybe we could all-"
"Louis is fine. He's a boy, and he doesn't need me hovering. Alexis needs a strong female role model. That's why I make time for her when I can."
"You haven't made time for her in three weeks."
Jade finally turned from the mirror. "Excuse me? Are you seriously keeping score right now? That's incredibly toxic, John."
Louis, standing in the hallway clutching a baseball glove, froze when his mother's voice rose. John saw him there, half-hidden behind the doorframe, and gave him a small, helpless nod that said go on, it's fine.
Louis disappeared quietly.
At work on Tuesday, John scrolled through his phone. Three texts from Jade. One was a Venmo request for her half of the electric bill. One was a link to an article about emotional labor. The last one just said, "we're out of oat milk."
"Morning, John."
He looked up. Jill stood by the break room door with her coffee, giving him a small smile. She wore a cardigan and flats; plain, put-together, the opposite of Jade's glittery chaos. The faint smell of vanilla from the break room candles reached him, grounding and domestic in a way that made him ache.
"Oh, hey! Yeah, great morning. How was your weekend?"
"Good, thanks. Quiet." She turned toward the hallway.
"We had a great time, actually. Jade went to this networking thing Saturday night. She's really building her brand, you know? I think it's amazing. A lot of guys would be threatened by that, but I just think it's incredible when a woman takes up space like that. She got home around three, I think? But yeah, Sunday I took the kids to the park. Alexis wanted to go on the swings for like an hour. It was sweet."
Jill nodded politely. "That's nice. I should-"
"Louis brought his glove, wanted to play catch, but we didn't have the ball. I think Jade packed it away when she redecorated the living room. He didn't say anything, though. Just kinda… sat on the bench, kicking gravel. Good kid, very resilient."
"Mm," Jill said carefully. "That sounds… hard."
He blinked. "Oh, no, he's fine. We all had fun." He stood up, wanting to approach. "Do you and your husband do separate hobbies? I feel like that's so healthy. We're big on independence. Like, radical independence. It's very evolved."
"We do game nights on Fridays," Jill said. Her smile stayed put, but something in her posture shifted. Weight moving to her back foot, coffee cup rising slightly as if to create a barrier between them. "We actually enjoy each other's company."
She said it simply, without judgment, but John felt it anyway.
"Right. Yeah. Of course. That's-" He trailed off. "So wait, you don't do anything separately? I really feel like it keeps things fresh, so we aren't relying on each other for validation."
"I… bake sometimes. He watches football."
"See? That's great. Traditional, but balanced. Jade says women like you are important, actually. She says feminism needs women who still… you know, nurture." He said the word as though it were slightly embarrassing.
Jill looked at him, and for just a moment, something like pity flickered in her eyes. "That's very… diplomatic of her."
He chuckled. "She's a firecracker. Keeps me on my toes. Some men couldn't handle that, but I think it's good for me. Keeps me humble."
"Mm." Jill sipped her coffee, her gaze drifting to the window. "You seem… very humble, John."
He brightened. "Thanks! I try."
"Have a good one, John."
She walked away. John watched her go and felt the familiar twist in his chest. Half attraction, half something else he couldn't name.
As the work day was nearing an end, John found Jill by the elevator, stirring her tea.
"Hey! Jill, I've been meaning to ask, you ever read bell hooks?"
She glanced up. "Once, in college."
"Right, right. I just started The Will to Change. It's all about how men need to embrace vulnerability. It really hit me. Like, Jade says I'm not vulnerable enough because I get too quiet when she's upset. But I think silence can be emotional labor too, you know?"
Jill pressed the elevator button again, though it was already lit. Her eyes tracked the floor numbers.
He smiled earnestly. "I used to get angry sometimes. Like, internally. But now I just… breathe through it. I don't raise my voice, I don't fight back, because I don't want to be that guy. The controlling one. I'm proud of that."
"That's… admirable," Jill said, her voice measured.
"Thanks. I feel like a lot of women don't want gentle men anymore. They say they do, but they pick the loud ones. I think maybe women are conditioned to see confidence as love."
Jill's tone remained polite and even. "Or maybe they just want to be heard sometimes."
He nodded eagerly. "Exactly! That's what I tell Jade. She says I'm still too self-centered, but I'm listening, you know?"
The elevator dinged. Jill stepped out quickly. "Have a good day, John."
"You too," he called after her. "Hey, maybe we could do lunch sometime!"
She didn't answer.
The next day was Wednesday, and John caught Jill in the break room. She was reaching for the sugar, and his eyes lingered on the simple and unadorned wedding band she wore.
"So Jade's actually dating this yoga instructor right now," he said, pouring his coffee. "I mean, we're open, so it's fine. I think it's beautiful that she can explore herself that way, you know? Like, I don't need to own her. We're past that."
Jill's hand paused mid-stir. "You're… okay with that?"
"Oh, yeah. Totally. It's so completely freeing. She says monogamy is a construct, and I totally agree. It's really evolved. You should hear how she talks about it, like it's almost spiritual. I think she might be sleeping with her business mentor too, but it's like… part of her journey, you know? You can't cage a bird that's learning to fly."
Jill looked at him for a long moment, something unreadable passing across her face. "That's… quite a metaphor."
"Yeah. Anyway, I'm actually dating too! Well, technically. Sort of. I went on a coffee date a couple weeks ago, but she said I gave off 'sad divorced energy.'" He laughed, the sound a little too loud in the small room. "Which, I mean, I'm married, so, ha, kind of ironic, right?"
Jill smiled tightly, her fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around her mug. "Right. Well, I should-"
John leaned a little closer, hopeful. "Oh, sure. I just thought, maybe we could grab lunch sometime? Talk more about… you know, life stuff?"
Jill’s eyes flicked briefly to the clock above the door. She straightened her shoulders and set the mug down carefully. "John… I think you should focus on your wife. Take care of your family. That’s where your energy belongs."
"Oh, of course! Absolutely," he said quickly, a little too eagerly, nodding. "Yeah, totally. Family first. Got it."
She gave a polite, measured smile, one of those smiles that said I’m leaving now and I don’t owe you anything, and she walked out.
John stood there for a long moment, staring after her, feeling a flutter of hope in his chest. A flutter he convinced himself was mutual understanding, a shared recognition of emotional depth.
He finally sighed, picking up his coffee again, staring at the wedding band on his own finger again, the weight of it suddenly heavy in a way he hadn’t noticed before.
Thursday morning, John saw Jill in the parking lot and jogged to catch up with her. His breath came out in small clouds in the cool air.
"Hey! Jill, wait up."
She stopped, turned slowly. "Hi, John."
"I was thinking about what you said. About game nights? Jade and I used to do something like that, but honestly, we've evolved past needing those kinds of rituals. We give each other so much space to be whole people. It's like, we're not codependent, you know? A lot of couples lose themselves, but we've figured out how to stay individuals."
Jill looked at him for a long moment. The morning sun caught her face, and he could see the faint lines around her eyes. Laugh lines, he thought. Real ones. "That sounds difficult."
"What?" He shifted his weight, keys jingling in his suddenly tight grip. "I mean, you must have your own things, right? Separate friend groups? You can't possibly do everything together." He heard the bitterness in his voice too late to stop it.
Jill paused, and in that pause he saw her decide something. "We go hiking together quite frequently," she said carefully. "Most weekends, actually. We like spending time together, I told you this before, and I meant it."
The words landed like stones. John opened his mouth, then closed it.
"I have a meeting," she said, softer now. Almost apologetic. "Take care, John."
She walked away, and he stood there watching, the morning sun suddenly too bright, making him squint. In the car behind him, he could see Jade's coffee cup still sitting in the cupholder from three days ago, the dried ring of oat milk foam at the bottom.
Alexis had her school concert that evening. John sat in the third row with his phone on his lap, recording. The seat next to him stayed empty. Louis sat two chairs down, swinging his legs and staring at the floor, his collared shirt slightly too big for him.
After the show, Alexis ran up in her choir outfit, her face flushed with excitement. "Did you see me? Did Mommy see?"
"I saw you! You were amazing. Mommy had a work thing, but I got the whole video for her."
"She always has a work thing."
"Hey, that's not fair. Your mom works really hard so we can-"
"Liam's mom was here. And his dad."
John looked over. Liam's parents stood together near the door, the mom's hand resting casually on the dad's shoulder. The mom waved at him. He waved back, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
Louis tugged his sleeve. "Can we go now?"
"Just a sec, bud."
"She doesn't come to my games either," Louis muttered, just loud enough for John to hear.
John's throat tightened. "Your mom's busy, pal. Women have to work twice as hard sometimes. She wants Alexis to see that. It's important."
Louis nodded slowly, but his mouth twisted downward. "So she doesn't care if I see it?"
John opened his mouth, then shut it again. The words caught somewhere behind his ribs.
"Can we get McDonald's?" Alexis asked.
"Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, we can do that."
Friday morning, John made coffee and checked his phone. A notification from Instagram: Jade posted a photo at 2am. She was at some bar, arm around a guy John didn't recognize. The caption said "Living my truth 💅✨"
He stared at it. Felt the tightness in his throat. Put the phone down. Picked it up again. Typed out a text: "Hey, just wanted to check in. You doing okay?"
Deleted it. Typed again: "Can we talk later?"
Deleted it. Typed: "Miss you."
Sent it.
Three dots appeared. Then disappeared. Then nothing.
Louis wandered into the kitchen in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes. "Dad, can we play catch after school today?"
John hesitated, thumb still hovering over the phone screen, waiting for those dots to reappear. "Uh, maybe, bud. I've got a lot of work, but we'll see."
Louis nodded, his small shoulders drooping slightly. "Okay." He poured cereal without saying another word, the only sound the quiet patter of Cheerios hitting the bowl.
John watched as he carried the bowl to the table and sat down alone. The morning light made him look even smaller somehow.
Friday afternoon, John saw Jill cleaning out her desk. The email had come that morning that she was transferring to another location with her husband.
He approached slowly, hands in his pockets. "So… new branch, huh?"
"Yes." She was packing photos into a box. He glimpsed one: her and her husband on a hiking trail, both smiling, genuinely. "It's a good opportunity for both of us."
"That's great. Really great." He shifted his weight. "I, uh… I hope you know our talks meant a lot. You've been a real friend."
Jill looked up at him. Her expression was kind but guarded. "John, I think you're a nice man. But maybe you should talk to your wife about these things. Not me."
"Oh. Sure. Yeah, of course. Sorry if I made it weird."
"You didn't make it weird," she said, and smiled that small, diplomatic smile. "Just… take care of yourself, okay?"
"Yeah. Thanks. You too."
When she finished packing and walked past his cubicle one last time, she paused. "John?"
He looked up, hopeful.
"Your kids are lucky to have you." Her voice was soft. "Don't forget that."
And then she was gone.
He sat very still, the words echoing in his head, unable to decide if they were comfort or condemnation.
That night, Jade came home at eleven. John was on the couch with his laptop, pretending to work. She dropped her purse on the counter with a heavy thud.
"We need to talk," he said.
She sighed. Loudly. "Seriously? I just got home."
"I just, I feel like we never see each other anymore. And Alexis is asking questions, and Louis-"
"Louis is fine! Don't turn this into some patriarchal sob story about how neglected your poor son is. You always do that, you focus way too much on that boy. You should be proud I'm teaching Alexis to stand on her own."
"But you're teaching Louis that being quiet is the only way to be loved."
Jade's eyes flashed. "Wow. That's manipulative as hell. You really need to unpack your gender biases, John."
He flinched. "I didn't mean-"
"You did. And if you can't handle being with a woman who knows her worth, maybe you need to reevaluate your expectations. I won't apologize for not fitting your outdated mold of domestic servitude."
"I just thought, maybe we could do therapy or-"
"Therapy?" Jade laughed. Actually laughed. "So you can have someone validate your emotional manipulation? John, this is exactly the kind of regressive bullshit I'm talking about. You're trying to control me."
"I'm not-"
"You are! You're trying to make me feel guilty for having a life. That's textbook patriarchal control. You know what? If you can't handle this, we can talk about separation. I'm not going to shrink myself to make you comfortable."
John's stomach dropped. The room tilted. "No. No, I didn't mean... I'm sorry. You're right. I'm sorry."
She looked at him. Her face softened, just slightly. "I love you, John. But you have to stop being so needy. It's not attractive."
"I know. I'm working on it."
"Good." She picked up her purse again. "I'm going to bed. Can you sleep out here? I have a really early morning."
"Yeah. Of course."
He lay on the couch for hours, staring at the ceiling, straining to hear something coming from their bedroom; the bedroom he wasn't allowed in tonight. His phone sat dark on the coffee table. No response to his text. Outside, a car passed, its headlights sweeping across the wall like a slow, sad goodbye.
That weekend, Alexis asked about the cupcakes again.
"Can we make them today? You promised."
"Yeah, kiddo. Let me just check if Mommy-"
"Mommy said not to bug her today."
John looked at his daughter. Really looked at her. Saw himself in her eyes; the waiting, the excuses, the hope that maybe this time would be different.
He heard Jade's voice from upstairs. She was on a video call, laughing at something someone else said. That bright, unguarded laugh, the one that used to belong to him, back when things were different. Or maybe they never were.
From the hallway, Louis called quietly, "Dad, wanna play catch now?"
John's chest tightened. "Okay," he said finally. "Let's make cupcakes first. Then we'll go out back, alright?"
"Promise?" Louis asked, his voice so small, so careful.
John swallowed hard. "Yeah. Promise."
John pulled out the recipe book. Found the page. Stared at the ingredients list. Alexis tugged his sleeve. "Daddy? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm okay."
But he wasn't sure if he was lying to her or to himself.
They baked together. Alexis stirring the batter with fierce concentration, Louis cracking eggs carefully, his small hands trembling slightly as he tried not to spill. The kitchen filled with the smell of vanilla and sugar, warm and sweet and almost like a real family. The oven hummed. For a moment, just a moment, it felt normal.
When the cupcakes were cooling on the counter, Alexis ran upstairs to show her mom. Her footsteps echoed on the stairs, eager, hopeful, already preparing for disappointment without knowing it.
Louis stayed behind, sitting on the floor, rolling his baseball in his hands. Back and forth. Back and forth.
John looked down at him. The slumped shoulders, the quiet patience. That small, resigned expression. The one he'd seen in the mirror more times than he could count.
"You still wanna play catch?" he asked.
Louis looked up, eyes wide. "If you're not too busy."
John opened his mouth to say later, to say maybe, to give another empty promise that would join all the others. But something in the boy's voice stopped him. That small, resigned tone, the one he'd used with Jade a hundred times before. The one he'd used with Jill. The one that said I understand if you don't have time for me. I'm used to it.
He exhaled slowly. Set down his phone. "Come on," he said softly. "Let's go."
Louis's face lit up like Christmas morning. "Really?"
"Yeah. Really."
They stepped outside into the cool, evening air. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. The grass needed mowing. The fence needed painting. Everything needed something.
The first throw went wide, bouncing into the bushes. John jogged to retrieve it while Louis waited, patient as ever. The second throw landed square in his glove with a satisfying thwack.
Louis grinned. John forced a grin back.
For a moment it almost felt real. Almost like something could be held, something untouchable by screens, late nights, or the laughter of someone else.
Then Jade’s laugh drifted down from the open window upstairs; bright and unrestrained. John looked up, just for a second. The old ache bloomed in his chest, familiar as breathing, impossible to ignore.
Louis tossed the ball again. It hung in the air between them.
John watched it. Watched his son watching him. Saw those small eyes full of hope and fear, and in them recognized himself: the waiting, the excuses, the quiet endurance of promises broken and forgiven. He saw what he was teaching, even as he failed to do what he wanted most.
The ball fell.
John caught it.
He looked at Louis, really looked, and felt the weight of what this moment should be. The boy who asked for so little, who forgave so much, who was learning, right now, what love looked like, what a father could be, what a man became.
“Good throw, bud,” John said quietly.
Louis beamed. “Can we keep going?”
John opened his mouth. Jade’s laughter climbed from upstairs. His phone buzzed with another reminder of everything he was failing to be.
He looked at the ball in his glove. At his son. At the shadows creeping across the yard.
“Yeah,” he said finally. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”
He wanted to mean it. He tried to. But part of him was already elsewhere, already pulled into a life that wouldn’t stop demanding his attention, and forcing him to transform into something else.
Monday morning John decided to go into the office, even though he usually worked from home on Mondays. The office felt different without Jill. The break room was quieter. John found himself looking for her cardigan, her polite smile, the way she'd hold her coffee with both hands.
He drafted an email: "I hope you know how much I've valued our conversations. You've been a real friend."
He deleted it. Tried again: "Congratulations on the move. You deserve all the happiness."
He deleted that too. Eventually he just replied-all to the farewell email with "Best wishes, Jill!"
He stared at the sent message for a long time, wondering why it felt like giving up.
I wonder how familiar this would feel to many readers.
ReplyDeleteIf it felt familiar to anyone, then that means it struck against something true.
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