8. Blake
CHAPTER 8
BLAKE
I sat in the car for what felt like forever, parked by the gates to Claire’s parents’ place. The gates stood wide open, but going in felt wrong. Like stalking, almost. I wasn’t invited. But I’d leave if they told me to, so maybe that helped? All I needed to do was hand off my message, and then I’d clear off, simple as that.
Hello, Mr. Everett. I’m sorry to bother you in your home. I came to ask you to pass on a message to Claire. I’ve written this note, and I’d be much obliged ? —
Much obliged or I’d appreciate? Or something more forceful, to make him see it was urgent? It’s important she gets this, so if you don’t mind…
I’d tried emailing already, but her address had bounced. Her number was disconnected, and Sam wouldn’t give me her new one. That left her parents, so I had to try, right? If Oli was mine, I owed child support. I owed a lot more than that, but I had to start somewhere.
I got out of my car and walked up the drive, past the guesthouse where I’d spent my first night with Claire. Hairs rose on my neck as I came in sight of the big house, and I ducked my head, feeling exposed. I couldn’t see anyone, but I knew they were home — lights on in the kitchen, along with a couple upstairs.
I’ve written this note, and it’s essential she gets it, so please, if you would…
I clumped up the porch steps, braced myself, and knocked. Footsteps came tripping and the front door flew open, then just as quickly it slammed in my face.
“Claire! Please, I brought?—”
“Go away.”
“Honey? Who is it?”
I cleared my throat. The door cracked again and Claire’s mother peeked out. She pursed her lips at the sight of me, then shut me out again.
“Just a minute,” she called.
I stood on the porch feeling sad and too tall, some lonely giant come knocking on doors. The thing with Claire’s house was, its bones were old, built for an era when “tall” meant five-six. At well over six feet, I had to stoop through the door. Now I stood towering over it, awkwardly huge. I could hear Claire and her mother on the other side, Sharon’s voice low, Claire’s loud and angry.
“I want him gone. Call the cops if you have to.”
“Call the police? Honey?—”
“Fine, I will.”
I held my note up so they could see through the peephole.
“I’m leaving,” I said. “I didn’t come here to scare you. I just brought this note, and I’m leaving it in your mailbox, and Claire, if you’d read it?—”
The door cracked again and Sharon glared out.
“Just wait there, would you? Sit over there.” She pointed me to the porch swing, then ducked back inside. I sat on the swing and tried my best not to eavesdrop, but I got the sense Claire was halfway yelling at me.
“That man abandoned me! And you want me to, what?”
Sharon said something, too soft to hear. Claire laughed.
“Are you kidding? No way. No way .”
“Don’t you think you deserve, at least, for your peace of mind?—”
They moved away from the door, and their voices died down. I sat and watched the birds on the feeder, squabbling over the last scraps of their morning seed. After a while, the door opened again. Claire stepped out this time, tensed for a fight. She frowned at me, sighed, and glanced back inside.
“Mom thinks we should talk.” Her upper lip twitched. “I have nothing to say to you, but fine. Where’s your car?”
“Up there,” I said. “Out by the gate.”
“Then I’ll walk you back. That gives you three minutes.”
I swallowed and stood. Should I just read my note to her? I’d put it all in there as clear as I could, how I didn’t want to offend her, but I needed to know. If Oli was mine, he had child support coming. And I would want to be part of his life. I understood it would be difficult as things stood between us, but I’d never just?—
“Well?”
I coughed. “Uh, well, I…”
“Keep walking,” said Claire. “What do you want?”
I tried to go slow, to draw out our walk, but Claire set a brisk pace and I had to keep up.
“Oli,” I said. “Is that short for Oliver?”
“No, it’s Olivier. It’s Dad’s middle name. Is that what you came all the way out here to ask me?”
I wished she’d let up, at least for a second. Give me a minute to gather my thoughts. But the gate was in sight past the guesthouse already. Claire was swinging her arms, gathering speed.
“Hold up. I’ve got, uh, a stone in my shoe.” I crouched down in the driveway and untied my shoe, taking my time to unpick the laces. Claire stood over me, huffing. I dropped into OR mode. In a way, this was surgery, and Claire was the patient. One slip, one fumble, and I would lose her, and any chance I had of getting the truth.
I breathed in through my nose. Shook out my shoe.
“No stone,” said Claire.
I breathed out. “Is he mine?”
Claire gaped at me. “What?”
“Is Oli mine? I don’t want to offend you if you have, if you’ve found?—”
“What are you talking about, is Oli yours? How many children do you think I have?”
And I’d dropped my scalpel right in her guts. All the way fumbled it, though I couldn’t see how. “I just thought, with his hair, and with the timing?—”
“I don’t believe you,” said Claire. “I cannot believe you. Yes, Oli’s yours. He’s the child you abandoned. You don’t get to come here all is he mine . Whose do you think he is? You think, what, I cheated?”
I rocked back on my heels, stunned at her rage. I’d never said that, or anything near it.
“What’s the matter, big man? Nothing to say? You walk out on your family, and you think you can, what? Come and accuse me, like it was my fault? You ran away. You ignored all my voicemails, Sam’s texts, my emails. Even the message I left your CO.”
“My CO? What?” I tried to get up and slipped in the gravel, and sprawled on my ass. “I never got?—”
“ No! ” Claire covered her face. “My texts said delivered. Sam’s did as well. Your CO said you’d call me when you finished your shift. Don’t sit there and tell me you didn’t know.”
I stood up, head spinning, and brushed off my ass. “I did get a message once, I had a call from the States, but not from my CO. From our chief resident. She said my girlfriend called. I thought, I don’t know, she misheard who the call was for, or they called the wrong number.”
“And what about my emails? My voicemails? Our texts?”
“I switched mail accounts when I shipped out. I thought my school one would close, y’know, with me graduating. And as for your texts…” I looked down, ashamed. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. I tossed out my phone.”
“You just tossed it out.” Claire shook her head. “And your contacts as well? Your friends, your whole life?”
I tried to catch her eye, but Claire looked away. This wasn’t going well, or anywhere close. “I wouldn’t believe myself either, if our places were reversed. But what happened was, Sam and me had a fight. It was after our breakup, when you’d just blocked me. I asked him to talk to you and he said no. He said if you blocked me, that was your answer, and I needed to leave you alone. And I was fine with that, or not fine , but I would have. But then he said he’d have blocked me, if he was you. He said you couldn’t trust me, and I guess that was true, but I didn’t like hearing it, or seeing myself as some liar. I told Sam to fuck himself, and then he did block me, right there in front of me, and he said we were done.”
“He unblocked you that same day. He told me. He felt bad.”
“I know that now. But I didn’t back then, and it felt like you all had just tossed me away, the best friend I had. The love of— uh, you. So I let go and moved on with my life, like I did a hundred times bouncing round foster homes.”
“But you talk to Sam now.” Claire was rubbing her temples. “No, this is wrong. This doesn’t make sense. He said you reached out a year ago, and you’ve been in touch.”
“Yeah, but he never would talk about you. I asked how you’re doing and he said no way. He said, and I quote, he’s not our damn go-between.”
Claire spun away from me, then she spun back. Her eyes were wide, wounded, dark with distrust. “Sam told me that too, that you asked about me. That you might reach out, but you never did.”
“I tried your old email once, but it bounced back. And I swear on my life, I didn’t know about Oli. If I did, I swear?—”
“Shut up. I mean, sorry.” Claire backed away from me, hugging herself. “Stop talking a second. I need to think.”
I stood in the driveway like a lost garden gnome. I could hear Claire breathing, shallow and fast. After a while, she let her shoulders go slack.
“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “When they said your girl called, you never thought it was me? It never occurred to you I might’ve reached out?”
It hadn’t, not once, and I swallowed back shame. “I could make some excuse, like it was chaos. Like we’re a trauma center and we’re twenty-four seven, guys flown from war zones all blown up. But if I’m honest, I… I was pissed at you, too. You shut me out of my life and never let me explain. Not that you owed me that, but it still hurt like hell. I never thought it was you because I never thought of you, period. I blocked you out of my head as far as I could.”
Claire sighed, a tired sound, and sat down on a stump. She stretched her legs out in front of her and stared at her shoes. “Let’s say I believe you, and maybe I do. That doesn’t undo the way we broke up. It doesn’t undo you leaving or how you lied, or anything I’ve been through these last four years.”
“I know,” I said. “And believe me, I’m sorry. I can pay your back child support, and?—”
“We don’t need that from you.” Claire drew herself up. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re set on that front.” She gestured at the big house, at the acres beyond. “What I needed when Oli came, you can’t even imagine. Nobody can, till they’re a parent themselves. Money doesn’t help when your baby has colic. When he’s up crying for no reason at all. When you walk him and walk him and you don’t know what’s wrong, and your whole heart is breaking because you can’t help.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, except I was sorry, and that didn’t feel like close to enough. I thought I’d caught a curveball, learning I had a kid, but Claire had had the kid and all that came with him. I couldn’t begin to guess what she’d sacrificed.
“I’m just starting my residency. I had to defer. I had to move home — I live with my parents. I wasn’t sure for a while I’d get here at all, working again. And I’m so behind.”
I crouched down beside her and laid my hand next to hers. When she didn’t pull back, I hooked my pinky with hers. “I’m sorry,” I said. “And I know that’s not enough. I know you don’t trust me or fully believe me, and I don’t know Oli. I’ve missed his whole life. I don’t want to barge in on you, or into his life, but Claire, if there’s one thing I need you to know—” My voice caught. I took a deep breath. “Claire, I would never abandon a child. You know I lost my parents, and how bad that hurt, and you have to believe I’d never pass that pain on. Not knowingly, anyway. I want to help.”
Claire blinked, wiped her eyes, and pulled her hand free of mine. “I need time to think,” she said. “A few days, at least. I can’t just, I don’t know… I need time to think.”
“I get that,” I said. I wanted to ask her, could I at least meet Oli? Not as his father, but to say hi? To see if he had my eyes or he had hers, and if his cheeks dimpled like hers when he smiled. “I’ll leave you my number,” I said instead. “I’m here for six weeks, so whenever you’re ready.”
Claire gave me a long look, then nodded. “Okay.” She turned to go, and I called after her.
“Claire?”
She paused, but didn’t turn.
“Whatever you decide, please call, okay?”
She made a soft sound, maybe a laugh. “Yeah, Blake. I’ll call you. Don’t lose your phone.”
I winced at the barb, but I surely deserved it. I’d screwed up big-time and put Claire through hell, and now it was my turn to sit and wait.