Chapter 52 Nyree
I told Asia that I had it all taken care of, that I could handle everything—supporting her, providing for our family, managing the situation with Isis and Jayden. I spoke with such confidence that I almost convinced myself it was true.
But later that night, after Asia had fallen asleep, I stood in our bathroom staring at my reflection, and the weight of it all came crashing down on me. Deep down inside, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. None of this was planned. None of this was what I'd prepared for.
At first, I was a single man wandering aimlessly through life, focused on my photography and not much else. Then in a couple short months, suddenly I was a professional photographer, a husband, and soon to be a two-time father. Life had become a blur, moving so fast I couldn’t keep up.
I splashed cold water on my face, but it did nothing to calm the anxiety rising in my chest. How was I going to do this? How was I going to take care of everyone who was now depending on me?
Without thinking about it, I sank to my knees right there on the bathroom floor. I prayed. My relationship with God had been complicated since my father died. But in that moment, I needed something bigger than myself to hold onto.
"God," I whispered, my voice shaking. "I don't know if I'm doing this right, but I need help. I need strength. I need wisdom. I got people counting on me now, and I can't let them down. Please... just see me through this. Help me be the man they all need me to be."
I stayed there on my knees for a long time, letting the tears come. Tears for my father who wasn't here to guide me. Tears for the years I missed with my son. Tears of fear that I wouldn't be enough for any of them—Asia, our baby, or Jayden.
When I got back up, something had shifted. I felt it in my heart, a certainty that hadn't been there before. A peace that didn't make logical sense given my circumstances. In that moment, I knew God was answering my prayers, not by removing my challenges, but by giving me the strength to face them.
I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and looked at my reflection again. The fear was still there, but now there was something else too. Determination. Resolve.
I would be okay. We would all be okay.
***
Saturday morning arrived bright and clear, and I found myself humming as I drove to pick up Jayden. We'd been slowly getting to know each other for a few months now, and thankfully, it had been going better than I could have hoped.
The first time I went to get him, he hid behind Isis's legs, peeking out at me with suspicious eyes.
I didn't blame him. I was a stranger claiming to be his father.
Isis had prepared him as best she could, explaining that I was his daddy and that I had been away for a long time but wanted to get to know him now.
But kids aren't stupid. He knew something wasn't adding up.
That first day was awkward. Jayden barely spoke to me, answering my questions with one-word answers or not at all.
But I took him to the park, let him explore at his own pace, and slowly, he'd started to open up.
By the end of the day, he was showing me how fast he could run and asking me to push him higher on the swings.
The second time I picked him up, there was less hesitation. The third time, he ran to the door when he heard my knock. And now, months later, according to Isis, he begged to see me all the time.
As I pulled up to Isis's apartment, I saw Jayden's face appear in the window, his eyes lighting up when he recognized my car. By the time I reached the door, Isis was already holding it open, and Jayden was bouncing on his toes beside her.
"Daddy!" he called, launching himself at me. My heart swelled at the word—it still got me every single time.
I caught him in my arms, swinging him up into the air as he giggled. "Hey, little man! You ready for our adventure today?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Can we go to the museum with the dinosaurs again?"
"Not today," I said, setting him down. "Today we're going to visit Grandma. She's been dying to see you again."
His eyes widened. "Can I bring my new truck to show her?"
"Absolutely."
I looked up to find Isis watching us with a small smile. She'd been cordial throughout this whole process— mature and accommodating.
"He's had breakfast," she said, handing me Jayden's backpack. "There's a snack in there, and a change of clothes in case he gets dirty."
"Thanks," I said, grateful. "I'll have him back by six; that still work?"
She nodded. "That's fine. Have fun, baby," she added, bending down to kiss Jayden's forehead. "Be good for Daddy and Grandma."
"I will," he promised, already tugging me toward the door.
As we walked to my car, I felt a pang of regret, thinking about all the moments like this I missed—four years of first steps and first words and all the little everyday moments that make up a child's life.
I was thankful that Isis had been so gracious about letting me into Jayden's life now, but I still couldn't help feeling upset that I'd missed those first four years.
But I pushed those thoughts aside as I helped Jayden into his booster seat—a recent addition to my car—and focused on the day ahead.
"So," I said as we drove, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "What do you want to do at Grandma's house?"
"Can we make cookies again?" he asked. "The chocolate ones with the white stuff in the middle?"
I laughed. "I'm sure Grandma would love that."
My mother had taken to Jayden, embracing her role as grandmother with an enthusiasm that surprised even me.
When we arrived at her house, she was waiting on the porch, her face lighting up as Jayden scrambled out of the car and ran to her.
"Grandma!" he shouted, and she scooped him up, covering his face with kisses until he squealed with laughter.
"There's my sweet boy," she said, setting him down. "I've been waiting all week to see you."
"We're gonna make cookies," he informed her solemnly.
"Oh, we are, are we?" She raised an eyebrow at me over his head, her eyes twinkling.
I shrugged. "He remembers the good stuff."
Inside, my mother got Jayden set up with paper and crayons at the kitchen table while she gathered the ingredients for cookies. I sat across from him, watching as he concentrated on his drawing, his little tongue poking out the side of his mouth—a gesture so like mine that it made my heart ache.
"So," my mother said as she measured flour into a bowl, "how's everything going? How's Asia feeling?"
"She's good," I said. "The morning sickness is gone now. She's starting to show a little."
"And how are things between you two?" she asked, giving me a look that said she wasn't just making small talk.
I glanced at Jayden, but he was absorbed in his artwork, not paying attention to our conversation.
"Good," I said. "We've been talking a lot about the future. Asia's decided not to work."
"No?" My mother looked surprised.
I shrugged. "Her priorities have shifted, I think. With the baby coming, and everything else... she's not sure what she wants career-wise anymore."
"And how do you feel about that?"
"I told her I'd support whatever she decides. If she wants to be home with the baby, I can provide for us. My business is doing well enough now."
My mother nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So you’re giving her the opportunity to be a stay-at-home mother?"
"Yeah," I said. "If that's what she wants. I have enough income to support all of us."
My mother was quiet for a moment, her hands stilling in the cookie dough. Then she looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"You know," she said, "your father would have been proud of you with the way that you are handling your life right now."
I froze.
"What?" I managed, my voice hoarse.
She smiled, a hint of sadness in her eyes. "You stepped up to the plate to be a father to a baby that you never knew about. You are stepping up to be a husband, despite the fact that you jumped the gun and got married, and you're stepping up to be a father to two kids."
She nodded toward Jayden, who was now showing his drawing to an imaginary friend, oblivious to the emotional conversation happening just feet away.
"And also," she continued, "you're allowing your wife the freedom to be a housewife and a mother. Your father would have been proud of you, because he always prided himself on being a protector and provider. I didn't work while you were growing up. Your father gave me that same opportunity."
I stared at her, a lump forming in my throat. All those years since he died, I'd wondered what my father would think of me, of the choices I'd made. I'd carried the weight of his absence, the burden of never knowing if I was living up to what he would have wanted for me.
And now here was my mother, telling me that he would have been proud. That I was following in his footsteps in a way I hadn't even realized.
I felt tears welling up in my eyes and didn't even try to stop them. "I... I didn't know that," I said. "About him telling you that you didn’t have to work, I mean."
She nodded. "Your father believed that children should have at least one parent dedicated to raising them if possible. He worked so hard to make sure I could be there for you every day. It was a gift he gave to both of us."
I wiped at my eyes, not caring that Jayden had looked up and was now watching me curiously.
"Daddy, why are you crying?" he asked, his little face scrunched with concern.
I smiled through my tears. "Sometimes grown-ups cry when they're happy, buddy. Grandma just told me something nice about my daddy—your grandpa."
"The one in heaven?" he asked, repeating what we'd told him when he'd asked why he had only one grandpa.
"That's right," I said. "The one in heaven."
He considered this for a moment, then slid off his chair and came around to give me a hug. "Don't be sad, Daddy."
I pulled him into my lap, holding him close. "I'm not sad, I promise. I'm just happy that you're my son."
Over his head, I met my mother's eyes, and the look she gave me was full of understanding and love. The conversation healed something in my heart. All these years, I'd been carrying around this emptiness, this uncertainty about whether my father would have approved of the man I'd become.
Now I knew.