25. Addie
Chapter twenty-five
Addie
Of course, just when I was starting to think that this man had turned over a new leaf and couldn’t possibly make any more stupid, hair-brained mistakes, he goes and does this.
“Luna!”
She ran surprisingly fast, and now I’m frantically trying to find her in this oversized mansion.
“Luna!”
Finally, after several minutes, I see the reflection of her light-up shoes in the corner of the sumptuous library.
“Baby, come here.” She’s under a desk, and I crouch down next to her.
She crawls over and sobs in my arms. The sounds of her cries, even if I caused them after scolding her, have always broken my heart into little pieces.
“It’s okay. I’m so sorry.”
When she calms down a bit, she sits up, rubs at her eyes, and asks, “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”
“Well—”
“I’m just irritated that Mrs. Kant is always yelling at me,” she interrupts.
What? Mrs. who? Now, I’m very confused.
“Remember the grumpy teacher from the second floor? The one with the mole on her nose and the big, ugly glasses?”
That’s ringing a bit of a bell now, and I can vaguely see the image of her in my brain. “But what about her, honey?”
I’m still holding her, and I wipe an errant piece of hair out of her face.
“She’s always yelling at us kids to quiet down when we’re just having fun outside.”
“Oh, okay.” I’ve always wondered by people who don’t seem to like kids decide to go into teaching. But I also read in a parenting book that it isn’t always good to side with your child on these types of matters. Instead, you should try to remain neutral and see both perspectives. “Do you know why she gets angry? Maybe there’s a particular part of the playground where you should try to be a little quieter?”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with anything like that, Mom.”
“Okay. Well, then tell me what you think the problem is.”
After a few more moments, she breaks down into hysterics again and hugs my side. Her tears moisten the shoulder of my shirt, but I don’t mind at all.
“What’s wrong now, sweetie?” She’s had little breakdowns like this in the past, I think all kids have. But something about this one feels different.
“That was all a lie, Mommy.”
“What?” She’s certainly throwing me through the ringer today.
“I mean, Mrs. Kant did make me mad today. But that’s not why I’m crying . . . At least, not entirely.”
“Okay.”
In that same parenting book, the author suggested letting your child come to terms with his or her emotions in her own time. So I’m trying my best to do that without much guidance on my end.
After sniffling and running her sleeve along the bottom of her nose, she finally confesses, “I just don’t want Hayden to hate me.”
“Oh, angel.” I hug her in close. “He doesn’t hate you. He just got upset. Remember what we talked about? Children and adults sometimes get angry and say things they don’t mean.”
“But I tried to be good. I really did because I want Hayden to be happy.”
Around that time, his shadow darkens the doorway, but my daughter doesn’t seem to notice.
Then, I realize that I’m acting as an intermediary between the two of them.
Choking down some tears of my own, I ask, “Why, Luna? Why are you so concerned with making Hayden happy?”
“Because—” Her eyes fall to the hem of her jeans, and she picks at one of them.
“Because why?” My heart is beating out of my chest as I wait for her answer.
“Because I just thought that maybe, just maybe, he’d be my daddy.”
Well, the flood works are released from there. And I can’t stop my mind from spinning with horrible thoughts.
Was all of this a mistake? What did you think would happen, Addie? You entertained all of this in your mind and then just watched to find out whether it crashed and burned in real life. What kind of mother does that? You knew all along what type of person Hayden was, and you knew this was how things would end. You knew it.
Once I get my bearings together, I blot at my face and hold Luna’s shoulders.
“I completely understand your feelings, baby. Remember? I grew up without a daddy, too.”
There are still blueberry-sized tears falling from her face, but she nods.
“And look at me! I turned out just fine, and you will too.” I boop her nose to get her to laugh, and it works.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess? What’s that supposed to mean?” I tickle her sides to make her giggle further.
“Mom!” she pleads for me to stop.
When I do, I pull her shirt down and then rub her cheek. “Like I was saying, we’re going to be just fine if it is, and always is, just the two of us. Right?”
Perhaps I’m a bit sadistic. But the fact that those words are probably killing Hayden to listen to isn’t lost on me. Not at all.
“Uh-huh! Because we’re like Rick and Morty. ”
She has no idea what that show is. But after Sam talked about it, repeatedly, she started to pick up on the fact that it was about two people who go on adventures throughout time and space together.
I wipe more moisture from her face before saying, “Exactly.”
Then, we do our secret handshake, and I ask her if she wants to go home.
“Yes, please.”
“Alright. Come here.” I get up on my feet first, and after she wipes more tears off her face with the back of her chubby little hands, she lets me pick her up.
Like when she was little, her head finds its natural place near the crook of my neck, and I hold her close.
I swear, having children is like experiencing what it feels like to have your heart live outside your body. So, when she’s all cuddled up to me like that, and safe in my arms, I feel whole.
However, as we pass Hayden in the darkness, I don’t even pretend to pay him any attention. Instead, my eyes remain straight and focused on our path to the car.
But apparently, this gesture didn’t convey the hint that I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. Because soon enough, I heard footsteps following after us.
Don’t you dare say a word to her, I warn in my brain, my teeth clenched.
He abided by that, and after I put her into the back, I hoped he’d be gone for good. But no. As soon as I round the corner towards the driver’s side, there he is.
“I’m sorry.” He looks defeated with his head hung low.
“Sorry?” Stepping closer, I jab my finger into his strong chest. “This is the chance you asked for, Hayden. I didn’t want—didn’t need —any of this. You did. But if this is how you’re going to act around her? Well, then we’re better off without you.”
He opens and closes his mouth several times before words come out again. “Listen, I’m not going to make excuses for my behavior. I was out of line. I’ll make this up to her, I promise.”
Oh, Hayden Cohen and his illusive promises.
After opening the door and angling myself inside, I ask, “Will you?” I then slam it in his face, turn the key in the ignition, and take off down his long driveway.