PLANTING my FLAG

Since my divorce, the house feels pretty empty on Wednesdays, Thursdays, and every other Sunday. Without my kids’ grunts, clutter, and the noise from their devices in the house, I needed something to fill the void, so I picked up yoga. During my first visit to the Noblesville studio, the instructor asked my name. When I told her, she lit up. “Do you know Bill Kenley?”

“I do. Bill is my ex-husband,” I told her. Her eyes darted. I jumped in to save her. “Were you a student of his?” I asked brightly.

“No. I’m a teacher at the middle school,” she said, and stopped. She must have been trying to not mention the words “Bill Kenley” again even though they were, at the moment, the only thing that connected us. Speaking the name of someone’s ex can be like summoning Voldemort in certain circles. I steered the conversation to a safe zone.

“One of our sons is a middle-schooler. Where do you teach?” There are two middle schools in Noblesville, so I expected her answer to come easily. When it didn’t, I filled the pause. “East or West?”

“Noblesville West,” she sputtered. I could hear the relief in her voice. She had survived a super-awkward moment without off ending me.

This kind of thing happens to me a few times a month. While I tell myself it shouldn’t sting and know that no one means any harm, I don’t love being constantly reminded that I got divorced. My ex-husband has taught English and creative writing at Noblesville High School since 1997, and coaches track and cross-country. Bill is a local luminary among young people, but his father, Luke Kenley, is an even bigger deal to most residents. As a powerful state senator, Luke chaired the Senate Committee on Appropriations for eight years. He led eff orts to eliminate the inheritance tax. In 2005, he sponsored legislation that led to the construction of Lucas Oil Stadium. On