Page 14 of Letting Go at 40

While I have visitation rights with my daughter, Samantha always has an excuse to keep my child from me or include herself in our time together. I didn’t know my child well. She was quiet and shy, reserved even. I didn’t trust Samantha as a mom, but I didn’t have evidence to contradict her mothering skills. She wielded our child over me like a sword, threatening to separate us forever. What Samantha really wanted from me was money. Lynlee was only a means to ensure I paid. I constantly worried Samantha would split, and I’d never see Lynlee again.

“I can hear you thinking.” Ben’s voice is raspy while his eyes remain closed.

“It’s nothing, man. Rest.”

“Mason.” Ben licks his lips. “Talk.”

“Just more Samantha bullshit.” The mother of my child is a wreck. In my thirties, I was still sowing my oats, sinking into anyone available. At thirty-six, I’d made an error in judgement with a woman high on life and a few other things. Despite condoms and the pill, the result of that night was Lynlee, my beautiful daughter.

At forty, I couldn’t say I’d gained any insight about women, but I’d toned down the random hookups and one-night stands considerably in the last year.

Ben is silent and I think he’s fallen asleep, so he startles me when he croaks, “And?”

I lower my head, not wanting to burden Ben with my issues. He has bigger concerns happening to him, like being fucking sick.

“Mason,” he drones. He won’t give up. This is Ben. He has some strange Spidey-senses when something is wrong.

“I think Samantha might be hurting Lynlee.” I dig my fingers into my hair, clutching at the thickness against the back of my neck and holding it in this position.

Ben’s lids flip open. “What?” His voice cracks around the question.

I reach for a water cup with a straw and hold it to Ben’s lips.

“The problem is, I can’t be certain, but Lynlee has marks on her sometimes. Ones I can’t identify. When I confront Samantha, she says the bruises are just typical kid stuff.” I’d made the unfortunate decision to trust Samantha, assuming maternal instinct was inherent to her, due to being female and all. What a bullshit thought. I should have known better. My own mother struggled with raising me. “I don’t know how to ask Lynlee if Mommy hurts her.”

I swallow around the disturbing thought and the bitter taste of calling Samantha Mommy. She isn’t worthy of our child. I’m not worthy of Lynlee, either.

Ben stares at me with dull eyes that once sparked with every smile. “You need to get her.”

Samantha and I agreed to mediation for custody. She couldn’t afford a lawyer and I followed her lead. The issue has been . . . me. I don’t trust that I’d do any better at parenting than Samantha.

“You know I’ll never be a good dad.” We didn’t all have Frank Kulis as our father. I had Marcus Becker who turned out to be a son of a bitch.

“Don’t do that,” Ben whispers. “Don’t compare yourself to him. You aren’t like him.”

I sigh and press back from the bed, hands on the edge of the mattress, arms tightly extended. “I’m not you, either.”

I’m not condemning Ben or even putting myself down. It’s just a statement of fact. Ben is a great dad. He’s patient with his kids who are each struggling in their own way with this relocation, his condition, and the addition of me in their family, although I try to give them space as a unit.

Without remarking on my comparison to him, Ben adds, “You can do better, be better.”

That’s another thing about Ben. He always has faith in me. When I doubt myself, he’s there to nudge me, assuring me I can be more than I am.

I shake my head. “I’m lost with my own kid.” The admission is hard to say but Ben knows my truths. I’ve struggled from the beginning with my daughter.

How could I be certain the kid was mine? That was the first question I’d asked Samantha when she told me about the pregnancy. A paternity test later, and I had the proof.

The Big Man upstairs really had it out for me.

“Then find yourself,” Ben says, addressing my confession. “Lynlee will lead you the rest of the way. No one knows how to be a parent. Your kids teach you everything. You’re the student, learning from them. Each one will need something different.”

Ben swallows as his voice strains. “Like Calvin will need to understand it isn’t his job to be head of the family while at the same time, he is the oldest and the other two will look up to him. He’s allowed to make mistakes. Admitting them will be the harder part.”

I stare at Ben. What is he saying?

“And Bryce will always feel like the kid stuck in the middle. Unnoticed and underappreciated when he has the greatest of talents. Athletic and smart. What a gift. He needs to see they are both an asset and he should never let one disguise the other.”

“Bryce will be great.” Ben wants him to play football at our alma mater, Michigan State University. He’s only a freshman in high school but I’m certain he’ll earn a scholarship.