TEN
This past week has been rough.
Sleep has been evading me, and schoolwork has been growing. With my heart a wreck and Professor Adell breathing down my neck, I don’t know which way to turn anymore. The tiredness in my body and mind has been preventing me from focusing on what I should be—my school and work, besides Dylan, of course.
The only thing that has kept me from going completely crazy is that Johanna hasn’t touched the L subject anymore. I can see the curiosity in her eyes every time she looks at me, the jerking moves or the opening of her mouth before she thinks better of it and stops herself. I know that sooner or later, she’ll give in to temptation. I’m just grateful she is giving me enough time to…well, prepare myself.
Liam has always been on my mind, but now that I know how close he is, it’s been impossible to not have all my thoughts consumed by him, the memory of him. Of course, it leads me to think about them together, if they’re still getting to know each other, and to what point their relationship has developed. It hurts too much, realising he has moved on. Although it bothers me, I don’t have that right. I lost all claims or rights when I decided to abandon him.
Even if it was my only option at the time.
Why did he have to show up?I had made my peace that he was out of reach a long time ago and that an us would never be in the picture again. But seeing him in the flesh, even more handsome than before, has moved something inside of me.
Liam is older. Long gone are the boyish features he had, even if he is still as handsome as he used to be. His bright blue eyes, even though they barely changed, are now filled with a weight he never had before. There’s a maturity to the little lines etching onto his face that weren’t there the last time I saw him. He is bigger, most likely taller and even though he has a different stance from the lively and na?ve boy he was, he seems just as fiery and stubborn as he used to be.
It woke up feelings that had been dormant inside my heart. The dam broke, and all of it has been overflowing out of me ever since.
Love. Pain. Guilt. Regret.
“Hey, Willow. How are you doing?” Abby’s mum greets me by the school’s entrance, interrupting my self-wallowing.
At the end of the afternoon, we both wait outside for our kids to be back in our arms.
“Hi. Everything’s alright,” I lie. “And you guys?”
“We’re fine. But you look upset. Are you sure you’re okay?” she insists, concern lacing her eyes.
“Yeah, just tired, you know. With work, school, and Dylan, my days can be pretty draining.” I give her a tight-lipped smile to try and ease her worry.
Since we moved here, she has never been a noisy neighbour, but since Dylan and Abby are so incredibly close, we’ve come to know each other more and more.
“If you say so…” She smiles back. “Look, here they come!”
Abby immediately runs to her mum, hugging her. Dylan walks a little bit behind, with slow-paced steps and slumped shoulders. The fact he is not running either, eager to go home—even if he now thinks he is too old and too cool to hug me—has me frowning. As soon as he reaches me and keeps still, quiet, and looking down at his feet, I crouch down to his height and poke his cheek.
“What’s wrong, baby?” He just glances at me for a second, shrugging his shoulders and looking away.
“Nothing,” he mumbles.
There’s something wrong alright, but I won’t make him talk in front of other people.
“Let’s go home, then,” I say, pretending I let it go. “Nana is waiting for us for the afternoon snack.”
His eyes sparkle a little at the mention of food, but instead of hugging me, he directly heads to my car. I glance at Nina, and she’s still watching me with concern in her eyes again, as well as Abby. With an awkward smile, I say my goodbyes and hold his hand, not letting him cross the road by himself.
When we reach the car, I open the door for him and let him hop in. After having him buckle up properly, I close his door and round the car to the other door. For the first couple of minutes, he’s silent. It’s really getting to me now because if there is one thing my son isn’t, it’s silent.
“Dylan, remember how Mummy always tells you to voice what you’re feeling? What’s wrong, baby?”
I’m watching him through the rear-view mirror, and he has his arms crossed over his chest with his serious expression looking out the window. At the sound of my voice, his eyes flicker to me before he gazes outside again.
Sighing, I patiently wait for his stubbornness to give in. Forcing would only make him uncomfortable and I want him to know he can talk to me about anything.
“Why don’t I have a dad?” he asks out of the blue.
I freeze. It’s the one subject I have dreaded talking to him about my entire life, and it has come sooner than I’d ever expected. With a gulp, I think about what to answer because this is not the kind of subject I can give him the wrong information about.
“Why do you ask that, baby?” I try hesitantly.
He huffs.
“We had to talk about family today at school,” he starts slowly. “I was the only one who didn’t have a dad to talk about. Someone asked me why I didn’t have a proper family, and…” His voice trembles, and he clamps his mouth shut.
Looking through the mirror, I see his eyes watering, and it feels as if a sword has just pierced through my chest. There’s no worse pain than this one, that’s for sure.
“Who did you talk about?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.
“You, Nana, and Uncle Jake,” he mumbles.
“Isn’t that your family?”
“Yes, but they meant my dad. Even Abby has her dad! Then Brody laughed at me, saying I didn’t have a family.” With a shaky voice and watering eyes, I try to keep myself together because it’s only making me want to throw driving to hell and just hold him.
“Well, that’s not true,” I sigh. “Families are complex and different, baby. Some families have a mum and dad, others only have the mum or only the dad, some have two mums or two dads, others even have none, just other family members taking care of them,” I explain, noticing he’s focused on me now. “You know that we can’t control what happens around us, and sometimes we can’t prevent the fact that someone who should be in our lives isn’t.”
He looks down at his hands with a frown, taking in what I am telling him.
“Is Uncle Jake my dad, then?” I’d laugh if this conversation wasn’t this upsetting to me.
“No, baby. He is your uncle, my brother.”
“But do I have a father or not?” he insists, and I press my lips together even tighter.
“Yes, baby.”
“Then why is he not here with me, like you are?” His voice raises, and I can sense the frustration irradiating from him. “Doesn’t he like me? Why doesn’t he like me?”
He’s getting anxious, and thank god that we’re arriving home. I hastily drive into our driveway, push the hand break down, and turn off the car. As soon as it is secure, I unbuckle myself, twisting and leaning over my seat to unbuckle him. He easily clutches on to me as I clumsily pull him to the front and place him on my lap.
“Alright, can I tell you the story?” He nods eagerly, and I take a deep breath in before continuing, “I was really young when I discovered I was going to be your mum, and a lot of people were angry that I let that happen. My mum and dad—your grandparents—were really mad at me, baby, and I was afraid. Nana offered to help me, and I left even before your dad knew you were going to come.” I try and simplify the story as much as I can. “So, he’s not here, not because he doesn”t love you, but because he doesn”t know you exist.”
He is still frowning, and I know what questions are brewing in his mind. The problem is that I can’t tell him the truth—the complex and complete one. How the hell am I going to do this?
Before he can ask anything else, I add, “We were so young, baby, and it was a very complicated situation for both of us. I thought that by taking care of you by myself, I was protecting you both.”
He doesn’t answer me but keeps the side of his head supported on my chest, fidgeting.
“Well, I’m bigger, so he is too, right? Can’t he meet me now?” he asks, and my heart aches at his request.
I had silently hoped he would never care about his father. I was sixteen and na?ve, not thinking of moments like this one.
“I don’t know, baby; I never saw him again. I don’t know where he is.” He looks up at me with shiny eyes.
Oh god, please don’t cry.
“Mummy, I want to meet him. Can you find him?”
“I…I…”
My eyes sting, my throat burns, and my chest tightens.
I don”t think I can.
It would uncover so much dirt and so many problems. But my son deserves the world, and he wants to meet his dad. The thought alone makes me crumble, and I hug him to my chest, crying silently onto his head. He hugs me back, without saying a word for a while. It’s when I feel his hiccups that I realise he’s crying, too, breaking my heart even further.
Then he leans away, looking at me with his pleading blue eyes and begs, “Please, Mummy.”
How can I say no to him? I can’t.
From the outside, one could call me a bad mum. What kind of mother robs her child of the right to meet their dad? A lot will decide that, and I think I get it. I do.
I would be fuming if my mum had kept me from my dad when I was Dylan’s age. Growing up, I used to be a daddy’s girl. My childhood would have been miserable without him. Even if, in the end, when I needed him the most, he didn’t back me up.
I cherish my childhood memories and those shouldn’t be taken away from a kid.
Even if my reasons for having fled are strong, they’re not stronger than wanting to give my kid what he deserves. I am just afraid that what he wants is not what he deserves.
There is a lot I may need to face before he can meet his father, but if that is ultimately what he wants, I’ll do it. There isn’t any kind of hell I won’t go through for him.
“Okay, baby. I will try and find him for you.” I give in after exhaling a shaky breath.
His eyes light up, and he hugs me tight, repeatedly saying thank you while kissing all over my face. I’d laugh if I wasn’t dreading the outcome of this.