I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For // U2

Julia

I wipe the sweat from my forehead and rush to the front door. Swinging it open wide with a huge smile on my face, I squat down, open my arms and grab my kids.

"My babies! I missed you so much! Did you have a good weekend?"

Lola stiffens as I hold her. "Ew, mom. You're sweaty!" She pushes out of my arms and steps back. "I have homework." My very irritated thirteen-year-old huffs past me and dumps her bag on the floor before stomping to her room.

Eric allows me to hug him while cringing.

"I was just exercising. Sorry, honey."

"It's okay mom. Can I go get a snack?"

"Sure." I stand up and step out of my son's way. He must be in a growth spurt. Otherwise he's the hungriest ten-year-old on the planet. As soon as Eric is out of earshot, I steal myself for battle. My ex-husband is still standing in the doorway, most likely so he can rail me about something.

The divorce hasn't seemed to stop him from wanting to tell me everything I'm doing wrong.

"Was there anything you needed, Dean?" I cross my arms and lean against the threshold.

"Lola has developed a real bad attitude. You need to do something about that."

Of course, that's my fault. Not the fact that she's a freaking teenager with hormones running out of control in her system. I've learned not to bother arguing with these types of ridiculous demands. There really isn't any point.

"Thanks for the suggestion."

"A suggestion?" His sneer puts a knot in my stomach. "You're her mother, Julia. You need to take this seriously or she's going to turn into a bitter bitch."

Like you. The words are unspoken but I hear his insinuation loud and clear regardless. I nod but say nothing else. I don't bother reminding him that he's her father and has just as much responsibility for influencing her life as I do.

Instead, I just stare him down. I am not going to let him rattle me. Not today. What I should do is close the door, but I know that will just escalate the situation, so I wait for him to get it out, whatever he has left to say.

His eyes rove down my body, a move that has me stiffen up. I was just working out in the back room before they showed up so I'm in a sports bra and yoga pants. Dean and I were married for fifteen years. I have no shame in front of him anymore. However, I don't like the way he's looking at me. He doesn't have the right to judge my body. If my arms weren't already crossed over my chest, they certainly would be now.

"Since when do you exercise?" He asks the question as his eyes freeze at my hip. "What the hell is that?"

The yoga pants were irritating the area around my new tattoo, so I pulled them down a little. I forgot I had done that in my excitement at having the kids come home. I shouldn't feel ashamed, I know this. But it takes all of my strength not to reach down to cover up the tail end of the tattoo that's peeking out.

"Well, I have court documentation that legally makes that none of your business."

"You are the mother of my children. That makes something like that," Dean points a judging finger at my hip, "entirely my business. What kind of message are you sending to my kids?"

"It's not a message for the kids. Or for you. Time to leave, Dean. I think we should start using a neutral drop off location like the court mediator suggested." I don't want him near me anymore. I don't want Dean on my front porch or parked in my driveway.

"No. No, Julia. You don't get to brush off my legitimate concerns as their father. The ink is barely dry on this divorce and you've already jumped on a tawdry path, marring your body as a statement."

I glare. If it were physically possible for smoke and flames to emit from my body, at this point I would be an inferno.

"The ink may be dry, Dean, but we've been separated for over a year. This marriage was over long before that. You made sure to let me know in every way possible that you no longer wanted to be my husband. You spent the better part of the last five years brushing off all of my legitimate concerns about our marriage and our kids. We now co-parent. You are finally obligated to participate in raising them. However, I am not obligated to allow you to have any say in my life or with my body. Have a nice couple of weeks until you are obligated to play host to your kids again, Dean."

With that I slam the door in his face and stumble to my bathroom. It's bad enough that I woke up yesterday hungover and mortified by my outrageous reaction to the tattoo artist, but a day later I now have to deal with PTSD from my ex-husband over my permanent decision. I don't regret the actual tattoo. But I do regret the fallout.

I let the kids know that I'm taking a shower and will have dinner ready soon. Then I do what has gotten me through the last five years and cry my eyes out under the hot spray for twenty minutes. When I emerge into the steamy room, I'm drained. Empty. How much more of my dignity will I have to sacrifice to this man? He's taken so much away from me, without my consent. He made all of the decisions. To be honest, the longer I am without him the stronger I am becoming. But it's a long road ahead because the man spent a decade stripping me of my backbone. He wore me down, took away all of my self-respect in the name of compromising for our relationship. The problem is, it takes two people to compromise. I was the only one bending in any way. That's not compromise. That's steamrolling.

I wipe the full-length mirror and take a good long look at myself. I'm not happy with myself right now. I don't like the physical shape I'm in. I don't like my mental exhaustion. I don't like the underlying anger that has fueled decisions like this tattoo. I take a good look at the scripted ink on my hip. It isn't that big of a deal, right? It's just a quote. It only takes up a tiny space under my clothes. I shouldn't feel this residual anxiety about the choice I made. Sure, I was buzzed, a little tipsy from the shots. But I wasn't out-of-my-mind drunk. I knew what I was doing.

So why am I on the verge of regret?

Instantly the green eyes of the tattoo artist flash in my mind. I'm overcome with inner heat at the memory. Something about the wrinkles near his eyes spoke to me. He's been through it, life. I could tell he's had his share of troubles. I felt connected somehow.

I tense my shoulders and push the thoughts away. I don't need to dwell on my reaction to the man. I shouldn't. I won't.

Instead, I dry off and dress. I make my way to the kitchen to start dinner for my kids. I go through the mom motions of cooking, cleaning and making our house a home without tension. I want that for them. They deserve it.

I call the kids to dinner. Eric shows up at the table immediately, filling his plate with chicken and vegetables. Lola takes a little longer. When she does show up, she scoffs at the food.

"Chicken? Again? Ugh!"

I ignore it.

"Why do we have to eat together at the table. None of my friends have to do this."

I take a deep breath. "This is how our family has a meal. Together." I shouldn't take the bait and even address her teenage complaints. We've always had our dinner together, as a family. Even when Dean and I were hardly speaking, both of us made sure to have this time together for the kids.

"So lame." Lola rolls her eyes and picks at her food.

Eric shrugs. "I like it."

That's my boy. At least I have one on my side. For now.

"How was your weekend with dad?" I try to change the subject, even though this particular subject is my least favorite to discuss. I don't want them to know that, however, so I always let them talk about their time with their dad.

"Great! He took us to a game on Saturday and we ate pizza."

Eric is all smiles. He loves sports, especially baseball. Lola says nothing. She's not the biggest sports fan and I'm sure she would rather have spent the time in her room texting her friends.

"Did your team win?"

Eric beams. "Yup! Dad said if they make the playoffs, he'll get us tickets."

Oh boy. I really hope Dean follows through with that. He tends to say things, make promises, and then he gets too busy with work. If the kids call him out on his broken word, he gets angry and gives them a guilt trip about how hard he works to take care of them.

"Sounds fun." I go with it, not wanting to even suggest that his dad might disappoint them.

Lola suddenly bolts up from the table, dinner hardly touched. "I'm done." She grabs her phone from the counter, where I expect her device to be when we are at the table, and retreats to her room.

I turn my attention to my son, but he's already finished eating and heading out back, most likely to practice fielding the ball. Dean taught him to throw the ball at the back wall and scoop it up as it bounces off.

Alone again, my mind retreats to my own weekend adventures. Second guessing my decisions has become a bad habit. I decide reinforcements are necessary, so I grab my phone and text my friends.

Me: I think I'm having tat remorse.

Jess: Nope. You shut that shit down right now.

Jack: What she said

Jord: Ditto

Me: y'all didn't' even go through with it!

Jack: that's cause we weren't the ones that needed it, hon.

Jord: true. Its' your life quote, babe. You were lost

Jess: but now you've been found.

Jack: we got you back! And you are bold!

Jess: right?!? That freaking kiss!

Jord: hot

Jack: smokin

Me: stupid. I feel like an ass!

Me: plus Dean had a lot to say about it. So now I'm feeling regret.

Jack: Dean is the ass, not you.

Jord: word. I never like him. Too slimy

Jack: used car salesman

Jess: politician

Me: father of my babies. No matter how shitty he can be

Jess: true. Doesn't mean you have to let him talk you out of your own mind. That's what he does.

Jack: GAS FUCKING LIGHTING

Jord: brush that crap off!

Jess: Light him up!

Me: I'm just so done. So tired.

Jess: No, you're so hot. On fire.

Jack: a vixen

Jord: a badass

Me: not sure that's what I want to be

Jess: you don't have to be those things to be strong, but having that mindset might pull you out of this funk.

Me: I did feel pretty freaking awesome when I saw the finished ink.

Me: I wanted a sword and a battle to win.

Jack: sounds like Dean just gave you both

Jess: no way. Dean is the dragon. Grinder, that tat guy, gave you the sword. He's like the wizard. He gave you the strength, the power you didn't know was already within you.

Me: I think this just got a little...

Jord: ridiculous?

Me: basically

Jord: no, hon. This just got real. You have yourself back. Don't lose it now.

Jess: push through

Jack: walk on

Jord: keep the faith

Me: omg stop! I got it. No more cliches!

Jess: we love you, Jule!

Jack: yes, so much!

Jord: Love you boo!

Me: love you too. Thanks girls. I needed this.

We sign off on our chat and I feel a little better. I scroll to my calendar app and double check my follow up appointment at the tattoo parlor. My heart rate seems to spike and the pit in my stomach flips over at the thought of those green eyes and strong lips.

Maybe I can be a vixen, a badass, for a little while. I try to picture what I must have looked like when I attacked Grinder's lips and cringe.

Maybe not.

Ok, let's talk Dean. He's a jackhole. That's pretty much Dean in a nutshell. He's selfish, conceited and ignorant. But don't you love her friends???

Now we've got both Julia and Grinder in tough positions in life, regrets consuming them and wishes for something better swirling in the background. Time to bring them back into the same universe. And YES IT WILL BE HOT.

Remember, this is a novella, so things will start happening FAST. If you need an AMAZING short story that you won't be able to put down, has all of the feels times a billion and you will reread more than once, check out Finding Cinderella by AuthorColleenHoover   It is one of my absolute favorites and Daniel will always be the best book boyfriend. He's mine, so hands off!

But I will let you have music. Julia hasn't found what she's looking for...or has she? *smirk*

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