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My mom leans back slightly. “You never really talk about him.” She sounds surprised that I'm talking about him now.
“There's not much to tell.” That's the honest truth. It was a one-night stand gone wrong.
“I kind of had a feeling since you never brought him home.” The amusement in my mom's voice takes the sting out of the words.
“Yeah, he was definitely not a keeper.” Thinking about his antics today, I'm even more certain I made the right decision in not trying to pursue him. But that just makes my decision of whether or not I should tell him now all the more agonizing.
“Why are you thinking about this now?” My mom sounds confused, and I realize that without context it doesn't make very much sense. Of course, Charles had kind of let me in on that last night with all of his uncomfortable musings about why Methew would be so important in my life.
“My reason for not telling him back then when I found out that I was pregnant is because I found out that he was getting married.”
My mom gasps and I nod my head, well aware of what the implications of that are.
“He cheated.” My mom sounds aghast, as if she couldn't believe somebody would do something so awful to another human being. I'm right there with her; cheating is one of the worst things somebody can do to a partner, especially when they're about to marry.
“I don't know that for sure, but it is kind of suspect timing.” I lift both shoulders. Who knows, maybe they met, fell in love over the course of two days and planned a whole wedding and got married right away.
My mom scrunches up her face and nods her head. “You can say that you don't know for sure, but I'm reasonably certain I know for sure.”
I could agree with her. It's not that I want to give him an out. I don't want to face the fact that I may have been the other woman and allowed a man to cheat. But then again, saying that I allowed him to cheat sounds like I’m taking responsibility for his actions, and that weight and burden isn't mine to bear. Besides, the man was in Club Red; if I wasn’t the woman that night, another woman would have taken my place.
“I just can't help but feel like it's cruel. Given how much I love spending time with her, to have someone else miss out entirely feels wrong. If I put myself in his shoes, the thought of missing out on my child's life is devastating.” Just thinking about it now makes me tear up. I already feel like I miss too much of her life.
“Have you tried asking her what she wants?” My mother sounds completely serious, but I'm not sure how that would work.
“I think she might be a little young for that.” Not that I'm all about giving her options, because I prefer to give her as many opportunities to make decisions as possible, but this one might be a little bit too big for her to make at her age.
My mom nods her head in agreement. “You're probably right, it was just an offhanded idea; I don't think she's ready. Has she ever asked who her father is?”
I shake my head. “No, not yet.”
My mom spreads her hands wide, as if she's completely unsure and out of her depth. “Maybe wait until she starts asking those questions?”
I thought about that, but I wasn't sure if that was the best way to go. “Like I said, it's hard to know if I’m ever making the right decisions.”
“Let's come at it from another angle. Is he dangerous?” My mom sounds genuinely curious, as if she's worried I'd hooked up with some biker dude, or a Mafia cleaner, or an abusive low-life scum of a human being.
“I don't think so.” I mean, he's not good with boundaries and he's a bit of a dick, but I don't think he is an actual threat.
“Maybe that's the sign you need. She probably deserves to have a father in her life, and if he's not a bad guy, there's no reason to keep them apart, right?” Something about the way my mom says it makes too much sense and I feel my heart contract. Something else I hadn't even taken into consideration is that if he knows he's her father, he may ask for time with her. More time that she'll be away from me, that I won't get to spend with her.
That thought breaks my heart, but not as much as her anger or sadness about not having a father in her life when she gets older. Who am I to keep them apart? If he's a good influence and a good man overall, then shouldn't she be allowed to have him around?
“I'm sorry these kinds of decisions aren't easier to make. I don't envy you. I’m not sure I’d be able to make the right decision in this case.” She gives my leg a gentle pat, then stands up. “I guess I'd better go see if she's still sleeping or if she's getting into some kind of mischief.”
I glance at my phone to see that not much time has passed. “If you put her down right before coming in, she's probably still asleep.” I'm just trying to escape and wonder if there's more that she doesn't want to tell me.
“Do you think I should give Dad a call or let him have some space?” She's going to be the one that's best able to gauge his mood, and I don't want to intrude if he needs his time to think.
She glances at me. “I’d say give him a call. He seems a little unsteady and I'm not the best person to comfort him right now. Maybe you'll be able to do better.” With a wobbly smile, she turns to leave my room. She stops in the doorway and turns to look at me. “Come to think of it, maybe she has a right to know who her dad is.”
I wince.
“I didn't mean to imply that you've done anything wrong. I know that this isn't an easy decision, it just kind of came to mind. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not always right.” She taps the doorframe twice with her palm before leaving the room, and I'm left staring at the space she leaves behind, wondering if she's right.
Planting my elbows on my knees, I lower my head to my hands, wondering if I could have been a better daughter to her, more supportive in a tough moment of her life. She just imparted absolutely devastating news, and I'd still somehow managed to focus most of the conversation on myself.
“Mommy!”
