Chapter 11
Drake
While Nia tries to hide her disgust for my father, I pick up the pictures and look at them repeatedly. What I notice is that the pictures are in chronological order and with each one, Nia looks more beautiful and more confident in her role as a mother. She’s flustered and disheveled during Carter’s first few months. In the pictures that Nia’s shown me, she’s always put together, if just a little sad. Here, she’s not the well-put-together woman I’ve always known. I love all sides of her, and these are no different. It’s nice to see this version of her. It’s a clear picture of the young, single mother who was getting more confident in her role every day.
As the months pass, she’s back to the well-dressed, well-groomed woman I first met. She’s smiling more, and those smiles are genuine. She’s always been beautiful, but motherhood only changed her for the better. I kiss her shoulder while I look at the pictures. The only one I don’t bother to look at is the one of her and that clown Shawn Gillis. In fact, I take it out of the pile, turn it over, and put it on the other side of my desk. I’ll deal with that and him later.
Nia remains quiet, but I know my wife well. I know she’s seething at my father’s invasion of her privacy. I don’t know why he did this. The only thing I can guess is that he had her watched to make sure she didn’t try to contact me. He likely had his minions take pictures to ease his lying, duplicitous mind. But I find myself grateful for these pictures. For seeing her from another angle. I still resent my father for what he took from me because I would have been by her side in all of these. Hell, I would have taken the baby out on my own to give her time to rest, just like I’d done with Priya when she was a newborn.
“You look so pretty in these,” I say as I hold up a picture of her pushing the stroller. I can tell this is soon after she gave birth because her cheeks are fuller and her hips are wider.
“Get glasses. I look like a drowning rat,” she says, giggling. “I was a mess. My hormones were all over the place. My nipples were chafing from breastfeeding. Even though Carter has always slept well, I’d find myself standing over his crib at night watching him because I was scared something would happen to him. And I missed you a lot, which made me so angry. I’d spend those hours watching him and making up scenarios in my head about how different and better things would be if you were there. Then, I’d remember how you didn’t want anything to do with us, and I’d get angry all over again.”
I drop the picture and tighten my arms around her to absorb all that pain she felt and all the deceit she experienced at the hands of the man I once looked up to .
“I’m sorry—” I begin.
“Shh,” she says, interrupting me. “None of it was your fault. No more apologies. Do you want to look at the video now?” she asks.
“Soon,” I say as I pick up the pictures again. “I want to look at you, and I want you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
“This isn’t about me, Paradise. This is about you,” she says. I notice she stiffens in my arms.
“This is about us. This was done to both of us,” I remind her.
“But this is about your father and what he did to you. He owed me nothing. You’re his son. His deception hurt you more than me.”
“How so?” I ask.
“How so? Really?” she asks. “How do you think? I don’t want you to make this about me and how I feel.”
“I always want to know how my wife feels,” I remind her. “It’s my job to—”
“It’s not your job to monitor my emotions,” she snaps. Then she takes a deep breath and says, “I don’t mean to be short with you, but this is about you not wanting to drag this bullshit into another year, not about me.”
I remain quiet and kiss her shoulder again to calm her down. “But since you want to know,” she says, “I hate that he did this to you. I hate that your memories of him are tainted because I know what it’s like to have a father you look up to and admire. I don’t know how I would handle it if it was my father who did this because he didn’t want me to be with a white guy. And let’s be real, that’s why your father did this. I don’t buy his explanation about me not being from a rich family. We might not be rich when it comes to money, but we are richer than most people on this planet. I come from two amazing parents who loved and raised me and my brother in the best home. I guarantee our home was happier and healthier than a lot of rich people’s. We wanted for nothing, so I’m so sorry that we don’t have a private plane or a private island to make your father feel better. Like I said, that’s not what it was. Maybe he did want you to be with a white woman from your social class, but I’ll bet everything I own that he wouldn’t have gone to these lengths to keep us apart if I was white and came from the same socioeconomic background. I’m pissed because I expected him to admit what he did, but he didn’t. He lied about the real reason. That’s how I feel. Are you happy now?” She tries to get up, but I tighten my arms around her and keep her on my lap. “And if I’m being honest, I’m worried that you’re going to buy that lame-ass explanation.”
“Why would you think that, baby girl?”
“Because this is your father, and I know how you struggle with what he did. It would be easier for you to accept his whitewashed explanation than the truth. The truth is far uglier than the tale he’s spinning. I’m just afraid you’ve waited this long only not to get a real explanation, and because of that, you’ll always carry the weight of what he’s done. He cheated you out of three years of Carter’s life, and he's cheated you out of a real explanation."
“There is no explanation in the world that would make this easier on me. For the record, I agree with you,” is all I say to her. “I’ve had the same thoughts.” When she stiffens more and crosses her arms, I put my hand on her stomach. “I can look at the video myself. I don’t want you to get more upset than you already are.”
She relaxes in my arms and rests her hand on top of mine. “I promise I’m fine.” She pulls my hand down, turns to face me, and rests her forehead on mine. “Partners in everything, remember?” she whispers. She holds up her pinky and I wrap mine around it.
“In everything,” I repeat. “Always.”