Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Ben
Twelve months have passed since Liam landed in my life. If you’d told me that I’d have another child, I’d have laughed in your face. But Liam fits like a missing puzzle piece.
Co-parenting with two mothers has its challenges, but I think we’ve created a routine between us. Bex and Kelsey don’t speak directly to each other. All communication goes through me. It’s like I’m mediating an ongoing family argument, and in some ways, I am. But the whole situation is my fault.
The kids split their time between homes. Co-ordinating four schedules—dance, soccer, after-school clubs—is chaos. My apartment is buzzing and filled with laughter almost every day of the week. I rarely get a day on my own, but I’m happier than I’ve been in years.
Bex will be dropping Liam off at my place tonight.
My heart races whenever she knocks. To me, she looks her best dressed in her running gear with her hair up, makeup-free, and relaxed.
Our interactions are brief but civil. Today, I want to try to move our friendship forward, if it can be called that. It feels like it can.
The door buzzes, and I almost run to go let them in. She’s standing on the doorstep, her hair loose, dressed in simple jeans with a white t-shirt. Liam holds her hand, looking up at his mummy, then turns to me.
“Daddy!” he shouts, jumping into my arms.
Being called that by him is something I cherish. It took time for him to feel confident enough, but when he did, it meant the world. I remember the day like it was yesterday.
We were around six months into our relationship. It was a lazy Sunday morning, and my two boys were watching cartoons. Liam glanced over from the other couch, smiled, then said what I’d been dying to hear.
“Daddy, can you pass the remote?”
That was it. No big event or fanfare. That single question changed it all, and I went from a father to a daddy in a beat.
It broke something open in me. Not just pride, but shame too.
That I hadn't been there when he first learned to speak, when he needed a daddy most. I’d missed so many firsts I’ll never get back.
Holding him close, I look over his shoulder. Bex’s eyes are locked on us. I give her a soft smile.
“Do you have time for a coffee?” The question sounds simple enough, but it’s monumental for me. I hope she accepts. She hesitates.
“I’ll stay for one,” she says. She’s wary, but we all walk into the apartment together.
My kitchen is open plan onto my living area. I wander over and flick the silver switch on the kettle. It springs to life with the buzz of the element heating up. Bex sits on the sofa as Liam brings his toys from his bedroom.
“Can I show Mummy my new bedroom, Daddy?” he asks, hopeful. I decorated it for the boys last week.
“Of course.”
He leads her by the hand down the hall to the room he shares with Ollie. Luckily, both of them have dinosaurs on the brain, so it was easy to redecorate the room. Liam is describing what’s his, and I can hear Bex’s excited voice. Then, both reappear with huge grins.
Watching Bex interact with our son is rousing feelings I thought were long gone. She’s so sweet and attentive to him, even now, when she looks more tired than usual. There’s a stillness I’ve never seen before. A heaviness.
Something about the way she carries herself lately has me uneasy. She’s slower to smile. Quieter. Like something’s worrying her, but she’s not ready to share. I don’t ask. I wouldn’t know how to. Our relationship is complex, caught between old feelings and new situations.
I won’t delude myself into believing that this was easy for her to accept. She had Liam to herself for years. Now, she has to share him with all of us.
He spends time away from her with me and his siblings, doing exciting things. She probably has to sit and listen to him gush about it all in detail when he gets home.
In the beginning of our shared parenting, I tried too hard to win him over. Our first six months were filled with exciting trips out and gifts. Guilt gnawed at me for missing so much.
I was angry with Bex for not telling me she was pregnant. She cheated me out of years in my son’s life. It stung. I wanted him to love me more. Part of me wanted to turn him against her.
The worst part is, I justified it to myself. Told myself I deserved a chance to catch up, to make up for lost time. But it was pathetic. She never tried to turn him against me. Bex showed up, time after time, doing the job of two parents while I played Fun-Dad.
But Liam’s a kind and loving little boy. He accepted his extended family as a blessing. He loves the bones of his mum. Now, I’m glad I saw sense.
We’ve changed things since then. I’ve changed. Now, weekends are spent doing puzzles or building Lego sets. I take photos and file them away. It’s not much, but it’s real. And Liam smiles every second.
Tonight, she looks perfect in my living room, on my sofa, one leg crossed over the other. My heart breaks for what could have been. This is the woman I’ve yearned for, for all these years.
When I left her after our holiday in Spain, I was heartbroken. Going back to Kelsey felt like the right thing to do. But I still look at the photos of those magical weeks together and regret my decision. I never stopped revisiting what we had.
When Bex disappeared from my life after our last night together, I was relieved. I tried to focus on being a good husband and father, but all this time, she was raising my child. The irony is palpable.
I stare at the two mugs in front of me, declaring me The World’s Greatest Dad and Best Doctor Ever. Neither feels true. One was a Father’s Day gift from Ollie. The other, a joke from Eamon. I’ve never felt less worthy of either title. A reminder of what I’ve been given, and what I nearly lost.
“Is that coffee ever coming?” Bex’s voice startles me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, sorry, in another world,” I call back. In a parallel universe where things worked out as they should have, I think cynically.
Before sitting on the sofa opposite her, I place the mug down.
She smells of fresh flowers and peppermint, and I breathe in deeply.
Right now, all I want to do is fold her in my arms and not let go.
Having her here in my home with our son just feels right.
This was how life was meant to turn out until I messed it up.
I want to tell her that. I want to say I’m sorry again, not just for the past, but for every time I’ve made this harder than it needed to be. But my pride always shows up first.
She stays for an hour. We chat about Liam. Our conversation always remains on him. Anything else is either irrelevant or dangerous. It will open conversations I’m not sure I’m ready to have.
She finishes her coffee and walks over to place it in the sink. There’s something so natural about the way she does it, and my heart twists again. She leaves after confirming when our boy will be returned to her.
And everything becomes a darker shade of gray when she goes.
***
Due to workforce shortages and other political drama, the local hospitals in our area are struggling for staff. A small charity approached my private hospital and asked if any of us could volunteer some time, mainly speaking with and supporting people with a terminal illness.
Today, I’m at the Cancer Center in Guy’s Hospital supporting the team.
This is my third session, so I’m becoming more familiar with both the staff and patients. We congregate in small groups of one doctor to six patients, then out come the coffee and biscuits.
The discussion is open about what they can expect from the treatment, personal prognosis, and end-of-life care. Most who attend the sessions are the patients themselves, but occasionally, a caregiver will come in an attempt to make sense of the crazy situation they’ve found themselves in.
My noon session draws to a close, and I go in search of Eamon.
It’s lunchtime, and we always avoid the hospital cafeteria.
My first experience with their soup put me off for life.
The vegetable broth, which was clearly home to some sort of meat, was alarming, but when the garlic bread came with chunks of garlic propped on top, I swore to never come back.
My stomach heaves at the memory, and I continue my search for my old friend.
He’s standing at the hospital entrance, chatting with three nurses. They’re young and obviously in training. They laugh at his jokes and flutter their eyelashes. His reputation precedes him. I’ve found him often in this situation, nurses lapping up his chatter. He enjoys every minute of it.
Then, I see her. Although she’s faced away, I can see her long blonde hair falling straight down her back. Her running clothes that I love, cling to her curves. She twists her hands as the receptionist looks up something on her computer. The woman gives her a slip of paper: an appointment slip.
My feet freeze. I don’t know why she’s here, but I know whatever it is… it’s going to change everything. The paper shakes in her hand. Her shoulders stiffen as she walks through the door to the cancer center.
I take a step forward, then stop. She didn’t tell me. Whatever’s going on… she didn’t tell me. And that silence scares me more than anything.