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Realizing that she is right and that I’ve been acting like we were never apart, I take a deep breath to try and calm down. We are both angry, and if we don’t calm down, we aren’t going to get anywhere with this conversation.
“Fine, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to handle all of this either. I’m going to fuck up, and I need you to tell me when I do. Now, why have you been mad at me this week? I thought what happened Saturday night was amazing.”
She blushes, and I take it as a good sign.
“It was, but the next day, when you chose to work instead of being with Sophia and I on our last day with you, it wasn’t.”
My head jerks back in surprise. I didn’t realize that’s what I had done. Yes, I got busy with work, but I didn’t choose it over them.
“Anytime we are with you, whether you are here or we are there, you work. Don’t get me wrong, I admire your drive, but it shouldn’t be more important than your daughter. You still haven’t shown her the roof because you keep getting pulled away for work. This isn’t how you get to know people and bond with them, Chandler. How am I supposed to know that I can trust you if you aren’t around? And the fact that you chose to work after what happened Saturday really hurt. It was like it meant nothing to you.”
I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. I’ve always been somewhat of a workaholic; it’s just who I am, and everyone seems to understand that. Hearing that I hurt Tanya and let Sophia down guts me.
“How are we supposed to be a family if you would rather work?”
I blow out a breath and lean forward, holding the phone in one hand and my head in the other.
“I didn’t think of it that way. It’s no excuse, but it’s what I’m used to. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I will work on working less.”
I can see her trying not to smile at my choice of words, and I smile sadly at her.
“I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you and Sophia.”
Her sigh sounds tired.
“You don’t need to make it up to us, you just need to decide what is more important. Your work or us. I’m not saying you have to stop working, but you do need to realize spending time together is important for our daughter, regardless of if it’s convenient for you or not.”
I nod, feeling like an absolute ass and like a terrible father.
How am I going to prove to her that I can be a good father and husband when I have no idea what I’m doing?
13
TANYA
I woke up this morning after having another one of those dreams that I’m not entirely sure are just dreams. I’ve had one almost every night this week. Some include Chandler, and others have people that I think I’m supposed to know but can’t place. The dreams the last two nights have been more flashes of moments than actual dreams.
Chandler and I were at some cabin, not my cabin, but one by a lake. Both dreams have started the same way. Chandler and I are out on a deck, having a nice dinner with candles and wine, and then the dream turns into flashes of Chandler and I all over each other inside the cabin. Flash after flash of us deep in the throes of passion. Him kissing my neck and lifting me into his arms. Flashes of me unbuttoning his shirt and kissing down his chest. Pictures of him over me, sliding into me as I arch up to meet him.
It’s proven to be a distracting week. Ms. Poppy has called me out on my daydreaming multiple times at the café. I keep drifting off and thinking about all the things we did in my dreams. It makes me want to see him; I’m almost desperate to see him.
It’s Friday, and he is supposed to be coming here this weekend to spend time with us. Ever since our conversation over the phone about his work, he has made it a goal to call us at least once a day. He talks to Sophia and lets her check over the stuffies she left with him, and once it’s time for her shower, I get the chance to speak with him. He’s been telling me about things from my past and filling in a lot of blanks that I had about who I was. Things like why I’m afraid of heights—I had a fall as a child from a rock I was climbing at the beach and broke my arm. Apparently, ever since then I’ve had issues begin up high.
It’s interesting to see how the things I can’t remember are still affecting my everyday life. Like my body still remembers things, even though my mind can’t.
Along with the dreams, there have been things that I know about Chandler that I’m not sure how I know them. I don’t even realize that it’s something I probably shouldn’t know until later on when I think back on our conversations.
I’m starting to think that some of my memories are resurfacing. I haven’t said anything to anyone about the dreams or things I’m remembering because I’m scared of getting my hopes up. I don’t want them to tell me that I’m not remembering things correctly and that these things never happened.
What if my dreams are just dream? What if the things I remember about Chandler, like his hatred of mushrooms, are just things that I’ve picked up unconsciously over the last few weeks?
I want to be hopeful that my memories are finally coming back some, but after nine years of nothing, I feel like I need to resign myself to the fact that it could just be a fluke.
“Tanya, it’s time for you to go pick up Sophia.”
Ms. Poppy’s voice pulls me from the trance I was in, and when I turn to face her, she has a concerned look on her face.
“You okay, hun? You’ve been pretty out of it lately.”
