Doorstep Anxiety

Michelle had told Monique that Jessica was a lawyer, that she was well off, and that her house was nice. All of that sounded perfectly reasonable when described over the phone. Actually standing outside the place, however, was another matter entirely.

The house was enormous.

Well, perhaps not enormous by the standards of people who lived in neighbourhoods like this, but certainly compared with Monique's modest bungalow. The brickwork was immaculate, the front garden carefully maintained, and the broad windows reflected the soft evening light. Even the driveway looked expensive. Monique could only imagine what the kitchen must be like inside.

In a way, she was glad Michelle was coming later. Meeting the other women without her daughter present would give Monique an opportunity to get acquainted with everyone before they all gathered together. More importantly, Michelle wouldn't be there to witness her feeling intimidated. The last thing Monique wanted was for her daughter to think her mother couldn't handle a little discomfort.

She was thirty-six years old, a widow, a mother, and a woman who had spent years working hard to keep a roof over her head. She'd cared for people who couldn't manage on their own, dealt with demanding families, and made it through days when exhaustion had settled so deeply into her bones that even taking off her shoes had seemed like a chore. A nice house and a few well-dressed women shouldn't have been enough to rattle her.

Still, there was something daunting about the thought of meeting Roy's other girlfriends. Would they like her? Would they accept her? They had to be wonderful women. How else could they have ended up with a man like Roy?

Monique smiled to herself, her anxiety easing a little as her thoughts turned to him. Roy was amazing. Handsome, certainly, but that was only part of it. He was kind in a way that didn't feel calculated, approachable without being a pushover, and attentive without making a woman feel as though she needed to earn his consideration. Being around him made her feel safe, but there was excitement there, too. A warmth that could spread through her at the sound of his voice or the sight of his smile.

She'd never expected to find a man who could make her feel that way again.

And a man like that wasn't going to settle for just anybody. Of course he wouldn't. Roy deserved women who appreciated him, who understood what a rare thing they had in their lives. Monique could hardly blame him for wanting the best. If anything, she admired him for having found it.

So why was she standing outside Jessica's house worrying that she wouldn't measure up?

The question brought a small, embarrassed laugh to her lips. There she went again, letting her anxiety get the better of her. It was the same habit that had led her to make such a mess of things with Michelle, the same tendency to imagine the worst and then act as though the disaster had already happened.

Thinking about that afternoon at Walmart made her stomach tighten. She wished she could take it back. All of it. The accusations, the ugly names, the way she'd spoken to her own daughter in front of strangers. She'd been furious and frightened, convinced that Michelle was making a terrible mistake and that someone needed to intervene before it was too late. But fear didn't excuse cruelty, and being a mother didn't give her the right to humiliate her child.

She'd behaved shamefully. Horribly, even. Looking back, Monique could hardly believe how childish she'd been.

The worst part was knowing she'd hurt Michelle at a time when her daughter had already been through enough. Joe's death had left a hole in both their lives, but somehow Monique had convinced herself that she was the only one who understood how dangerous the world could be. She'd tried to protect Michelle by holding tighter, asking more questions, and treating every decision she disliked as proof that her daughter wasn't thinking clearly.

Somewhere along the way, protecting Michelle had become indistinguishable from controlling her.

Monique lowered her eyes, studying the neat paving stones beneath her shoes. At least Michelle hadn't shut her out. Her beautiful girl still wanted her in her life. Despite everything Monique had said and done, Michelle had left room for them to find their way back to one another. There was no guarantee that every hurt would disappear, or that they could simply return to the way things had been before, but Monique was grateful for the chance.

And then there was Roy.

Roy.

A smile returned to her face, gentler this time. He loved her. The thought still seemed extraordinary, no matter how often she repeated it to herself. Roy loved her, and she loved him. Was there any greater feeling than being loved by a man who knew how to make a woman feel accepted, cherished, and adored? He didn't make her feel foolish for worrying, or silly for wanting affection. He didn't seem to consider kindness a favour he was doing her. With Roy, affection came as naturally as conversation, and his attention made her feel as though she mattered.

Sometimes, when she was alone at home, Monique found herself thinking about how different her life might have been if she'd met him years earlier. After Joe died, she'd gone through a terrible stretch. Grief had made the world feel smaller, and the responsibilities of keeping the household running had seemed to multiply overnight. She'd worried about bills, about Michelle, about whether she was doing enough to keep her daughter safe. Even on good days, there had been a persistent feeling that something could go wrong at any moment. Anxiety had crept into the spaces grief left behind until she'd almost forgotten what it felt like to relax.

If Roy had been there then, perhaps things would have been easier. Perhaps he could have helped her through those dark months, made her laugh when she couldn't imagine anything being funny, or reminded her that she didn't have to carry everything alone.

But that was a dangerous road to wander down. There was no point mourning the years they'd missed when she could appreciate the time they had now. Monique wasn't bitter. She wasn't going to waste the happiness she'd found by wishing it had arrived sooner.

Besides, she had Roy in her life now, a privilege she knew not every woman was fortunate enough to experience. He made her feel more hopeful about the future than she'd felt in years. Why would she spend her time dreaming about an imaginary past when the present was so much better than she'd dared to expect?

Her relationship with Roy was as close to perfect as she could imagine. The only sensible thing to do was appreciate it.

Of course, that didn't mean she intended to make a nuisance of herself. The thought of living under the same roof as Roy and his girlfriends was thrilling, but Monique wasn't about to march into Jessica's house and start making demands. Roy loved the other women. That much was obvious, and Monique respected it. The idea of asking him to choose between them was absurd. Why would she want to take something away from the people who made him happy?

Besides, she had no intention of stealing him from anybody. She wasn't that kind of woman.

She'd learned a few things about herself over the years, and one of them was that love wasn't supposed to be a competition. Roy had enough affection to share, and she was grateful to have a place in his life. If that meant sharing him with other women, then she could be happy with that arrangement. More than happy, really. She was already looking forward to getting to know the women who had captured his heart.

Michelle would be living with them, too. That was another source of happiness Monique was still getting used to. Her daughter would have a comfortable home, people around her who cared about her, and a man who treated her with the tenderness she'd always deserved. The thought eased some of the guilt that had been weighing on Monique since Walmart.

Her own terrible behaviour had led Michelle to seek comfort with Roy. It was a painful thing to admit, but perhaps something good had come from it. Michelle had found a place where she felt safe, where she could be loved without being made to feel that she was doing something wrong.

Monique was glad for her. Truly.

And, if she was honest with herself, more than a little envious.

Not of Michelle's place in Roy's life. Her daughter had been fortunate enough to find him first, and Monique wouldn't have wished that away for anything. But the thought of sharing a house with the man she loved, waking up knowing he was nearby, and being able to spend time with him without having to plan every moment in advance filled her with a happiness she could barely contain.

She'd never expected to have something like this at thirty-six. After Joe died, she'd assumed that whatever romantic happiness she'd experienced in her life belonged to the past. There might be companionship someday, perhaps, but she'd never imagined finding a man who made her feel so young and hopeful again.

Now she had him. She wasn't going to squander the opportunity by letting her nerves ruin the evening.

Monique straightened her shoulders, smoothed the front of her blouse, and glanced once more at the house. The large front windows offered a glimpse of a warmly lit interior. Somewhere inside, people were moving about, preparing for the evening. She could almost smell dinner already, although she suspected that was wishful thinking.

A deep breath helped settle her nerves. Then she reached for the doorbell and pressed it.

The chime sounded somewhere inside.

Monique waited, clasping her hands in front of her. The seconds seemed to stretch. She could hear faint movement beyond the door, the shuffle of footsteps approaching from the other side. Her stomach fluttered with a ridiculous assortment of nerves and anticipation. She wanted this first meeting to go well. She wanted the other women to like her, and she wanted to feel that she belonged here.

Most of all, she wanted Roy to be proud of her.

The thought made her smile, though she was quick to smooth her expression before the door opened. She didn't want to look like some lovesick teenager meeting her boyfriend's family for the first time.

The deadbolt clicked, followed by the turn of a handle. A moment later, the door swung inward, revealing a tall white woman with brown hair tied neatly in a ponytail. She wore comfortable but stylish clothes, and her smile was open enough to make Monique feel as though she'd been expected rather than merely accommodated.

"You must be Monique!" the woman said warmly. "Michelle's mother. Welcome! I'm Jessica. I'm so glad you could come."

For a moment, Monique simply looked at her.

This was Jessica, the lawyer. The woman whose house was about to become home to Roy, Michelle, Elaine, Zara, and, if things worked out, perhaps Monique herself. She'd expected someone intimidating, perhaps a little aloof, someone who might make it clear that Monique was a late addition to an already established group. Instead, Jessica looked genuinely pleased to see her.

Monique felt the tension she'd been carrying in her shoulders begin to loosen. A smile spread across her face, and she stepped forward to greet her host.

"Thank you for having me. It's lovely to meet you."

"The pleasure's mine. Come in! Dinner's nearly ready, and the others should be here soon. Michelle's been talking about you."

That last sentence warmed Monique more than she cared to admit.

"She has?"

"Oh, yes." Jessica's smile widened. "And I'm sure Roy's looking forward to seeing you. We've all been looking forward to getting to know you."

Monique crossed the threshold, taking in the welcoming hallway and the warm light spilling from the rooms beyond. The house smelled of something delicious, a rich, savoury aroma that reminded her of the sort of meals Joe used to make on weekends when he had time to experiment in the kitchen. Somewhere deeper inside, a woman's voice called out a question, followed by Jessica's cheerful reply that their guest had arrived.

The sounds made the house feel lived in, full of people rather than simply furnished. It was a comforting thought. Monique had spent too many evenings in her bungalow listening to the silence, and the prospect of a home where there was always someone to talk to felt almost impossibly appealing.

Jessica turned to close the door, then gestured towards the living room.

"Come on. I'll introduce you to everyone who's here. And please, make yourself at home."

Monique followed, her earlier apprehension giving way to something much brighter. She was still nervous, of course. Meeting the other women was going to be a little strange, and she had no idea how long it would take to find her place among them. But Jessica's welcome had made the first step easier than she'd expected.

Perhaps this was how things were supposed to begin: not with a grand declaration or a promise that everything would be perfect, but with an open door, the smell of dinner, and people who were happy to see her.

Monique had spent a long time feeling as though she were standing outside the life she wanted, looking in through a window. Tonight, for the first time in years, she felt as though someone had invited her inside.

And, to her own surprise, she believed every word Jessica had said.