Chapter 40
Marco
I turn up the volume on the TV and grab another taco from the to-go carton on the coffee table.
It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday night, and I’m staying in with takeout from down the street and the latest action movie to be released on streaming.
It’s already boring me, and I’m only twenty minutes in.
I swear, they just keep coming out with the same movies over and over again with the same ridiculous stunts and plot lines.
I roll my eyes as the lead character balances on two feet on the helicopter that’s in mid-air.
“Yeah right,” I mutter, taking a bite of my birria taco.
I settle back into the couch and look at my phone. I only have a text from Jacob: Back to being a hermit? I see how it is. I’ll be at the new club opening if you decide to come out of your apartment.
I don’t respond and toss my phone next to me on the couch.
I was hoping I would hear from Erica. After the day we had at the zoo, it feels like we are moving in a good direction.
One where I really want to see where it goes.
I think about her and Josie, completely missing the villain’s backstory that’s playing out on the movie.
With a sigh, I turn the TV off. I can’t focus on it.
My mind is on other things. It’s not good, anyway.
I eat the rest of my food in silence, debating if I should go to bed afterward.
It’s almost humorous how different my nights are now, compared to a few months ago.
I’d most likely be at that club opening with Jacob, drinking copious amounts of alcohol, and searching for my next conquest for the night.
All of it seems meaningless now. I know it’s because of Josie, but I think Erica plays a part too.
This morning had been perfect. Perfect weather. Perfect outing.
I reach over and pick up my phone. I scroll to Erica’s number and my thumb hovers over the call button as I debate whether I should call or not.
I don’t know if I’ve ever called her. When she worked with me, we mostly talked in person or through text or email.
I take a deep breath and press the green button.
As soon as the phone starts ringing, my nerves kick in.
I’m not really sure why I’m calling, or what I’ll say. I just want to hear her.
I hear the phone pick up after a few rings, but she doesn’t immediately greet me. Instead, I hear music in the background and other people talking.
“Will you be quiet?” she whispers, her phone probably covering the mouthpiece because it’s muffled with movement.
I furrow my brows as I try to listen, wondering where she is and who she’s with. As if I have any right to know.
“Uh hello?” I ask.
“Hello? Marco?” she asks.
“Yeah, did I catch you at a bad time?”
“No, no. I’m just at my friend’s place. Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Er, everything’s fine.”
I realize she’s probably curious as to why I’m calling, like it must be some sort of work thing or something. I wish it was because then I wouldn’t feel like such a fool with nothing to say.
“I just wanted to call and tell you that I really enjoyed today. With you and Josie.”
“Oh, yeah. She had a great time.”
She, meaning Josie. She didn’t say “we.”
“Good. I’m glad.”
“Mhmm,” she says distractedly.
“Maybe we could do it again sometime. Or something like it…” The words feel so stupid as they come out of my mouth. I don’t like putting myself out there like this, unless I know it’s a safe bet. I’m not used to these nerves. I’m not used to not getting what I want.
“Yeah. That could work. Look, can we talk about it later?”
“Sure. Of course,” I reply, trying not to let the defeat in my voice come through.
“Have a good night.”
Before I can say anything back, I hear the click of the phone.
I look at it and frown. That was not how I wanted that to go.
Had I read things wrong since yesterday?
Meeting Josie at daycare. Dinner at the diner.
Exploring the zoo. Maybe I wanted things to go so well that I let my hope skew my view on things.
Now that I sit here alone on the couch, knowing that Erica might not see things the same way as me and that she’s out doing her own thing, I feel even more alone.
It’s unfair of me to hope she’s at home on a Saturday night.
It’s unfair of me to feel jealous of whoever she’s spending her time with.
She said she was at a friend’s place, but she was acting so strange on the phone.
My mind goes to its usual jealous place, wondering if maybe she’s with another man. I wonder if Josie’s with her.
I remind myself that I’m the one who screwed things up when I told her I wanted her out of my life. She had every right to move on from whatever we had. Whatever we were , if we were ever anything at all.
Maybe I should have gone out with Jacob tonight.
I shake my head, thinking better of it, and start clearing the coffee table of the empty takeout cartons.
Once it’s clean, I head to my bathroom to wash up for bed.
I can’t remember the last time I went to sleep before nine, but I can’t think of anything better to do to escape my thoughts.
But I don’t escape them. Instead, I dream of Josie, but she’s older.
She must be about ten years old and if I hadn’t memorized her face the first moment I laid eyes on her, I would have wondered who she was.
But she has my eyes, no matter what age she is.
In my dream I can see my hand waving at her from across the street from outside the school she’s at.
I keep waving and she’s looking right at me, but she’s not doing anything.
She’s not smiling. She’s not frowning. It’s as if she doesn’t see me at all.
I take a step toward her and somehow she’s getting further away from me, even though she hasn’t moved.
I’m running toward her now. The school is getting closer, but she’s getting further with that same vacant expression on her face.
I realize she doesn’t recognize me, making me run even faster, feeling frantic.
I wake up in a cold sweat, breathing heavy. I wipe my brow and sit up in my bed, shaking my head. What a terrible nightmare. A nightmare that was born from my newest, yet deepest fear, which is not having a part of Josie’s life.
I look over at the time on my alarm clock.
It glows a cruel joke that reads four a.m. I’m groggy, but have no desire to go back to sleep for fear of revisiting the same nightmare.
Instead, I pull the covers off me and pad sleepily over to my closet.
I change into my gym clothes and head down to the gym in my apartment building for a workout.
As I punch the punching bag, I welcome the sweat that comes with it.
The release I feel, like I’m decking my nightmare and all my fears square in the face.
By the end of my workout, I’m drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted.
Back up at my apartment, I take a hot shower and climb back in bed, welcoming sleep.
I wake up at noon and check my phone, hoping to see something from Erica, but I have no new notifications.
I try to remember our conversation from last night.
Did she say we could talk about it later or tomorrow?
I can’t remember. Either way, it’s driving me crazy.
I can’t stop thinking about them since I wandered into that daycare for the first time.
I thought that I was enamored with my daughter.
And I am, but I’m also completely taken by Erica.
I think I always have been, ever since I saw her in that champagne dress on the rooftop last summer.
I think about how if I had never met her that night, then Josie wouldn’t be here.
It was a lustful, reckless decision that led to something so beautiful.
Something I had been so scared of when I found out, but now…
Now, the only thing that scares me is not being a part of Josie’s life. Of both their lives.
I don’t know the first thing about a healthy and functioning family.
Apart from the relationship with my mother, the whole big, happy family thing didn’t work out with my father in the picture.
I think because of this, fatherhood was never something I imagined for myself.
I didn’t believe I could be any good at it, given the example I had.
As a child and into adulthood, I had been verbally ruined by him, from never feeling good enough in the artwork I proudly brought home from school, to the grades I earned in school, to the university I got into.
He always expected more. My mother tried to make up for his lack of love and pride, and it was enough sometimes, but mostly it was a Band-Aid for my wounds.
I thought that if I followed in my father’s footsteps by going into business, then maybe he would finally be proud of me.
But even then, he pointed out where I could do better.
I grew to resent him for it, finding comfort in money, booze, women.
Anything to distract me from the underlying hurt of never feeling good enough.
I had to boost my pride with other things to fill the void he left, and still leaves long after his death.
I don’t even think I cried when I heard the news about his heart attack.
I didn’t cry at the funeral. My voice didn’t even shake at the podium when I read my speech about what a “great” father he was.
Even in his absence, I still wanted to make him happy.
I never want Josie to feel like that. I never want her to feel anything less than perfect in my eyes.
When I first found out about her, I was scared shitless, which was why I pushed Erica away.
I didn’t want to screw her up, like my father did me.
But seeing her in the flesh, her eyes finding mine and really seeing me, I knew I could never do anything to harm her. I knew I couldn’t live without her.
And I’m trying to show Erica that. I’m trying to show her that I’m serious about being in Josie’s life.
Though we haven’t exactly talked about it, I’m hoping that my actions say enough, until we can have a real conversation.
I know she’s scared. I can see it in the way she looks at me, or avoids looking at me.
I can see it in the way she looks at Josie.
I hate that she feels that way because of me.
I hate that she felt she had to hide anything from me in the first place.
These are all things we need to talk about.
I know I have to prove to her my intentions are true and I’m not the man she’s painted me out to be.
I know her image of me is hued by the reputation I’ve earned as a businessman, especially when it comes to the newspaper she loves so much, but I know she’s seen the good in me too.
She wouldn’t have come home with me that night.
The first or the second time. I just have to make her see that I want her in my life.
I want Josie in my life. I want to be a family, or something close to it.