Chapter 35
THIRTY-FIVE
Deacon
I have all Willow’s favorite things ready.
I have a package of baby clothes for her favorite baby doll.
I have some pink hair bows that I know she’ll love.
I have a cupcake with a unicorn horn and three new books for us to read at bedtime.
I don’t think I’ve missed anything. I just want to make sure I have all weapons in my arsenal after Gabby and I sit down with Willow after dinner this evening.
I insisted that we tell her on a non-handover day so it doesn’t add to an already stressful time.
When Gabby insisted that Willow needed to know about the change in nesting arrangements as soon as possible, I insisted that it should be on a day when I was at the townhouse.
I want to be the one who picks up the pieces if Willow falls apart because I know I have my daughter’s best interests at heart.
I know Gabby cares about Willow. But she has a vested interest in making sure Willow has a good reaction to the news.
I want to encourage an authentic reaction, no matter if it’s inconvenient for Gabby.
Gabby didn’t argue at my insistence over the logistics.
“Mommy’s going to be here any minute,” I say to Willow, as she eats her final forkful of pasta.
“Please may I have a yogurt?” Willow asks. She’s not even asked why her mother is coming around tonight. She’s acting like it’s perfectly normal for Gabby and me to be here together for the evening.
Before I can stand up, Lucia clears her plate and places a yogurt and a spoon in front of her.
“Thank you,” Willow says.
The doorbell rings and the sound of the key in the lock tells me Gabby has arrived.
“Is that Mommy?” Willow asks, grinning.
“I think so,” I say, a fixed smile on my face.
Willow pushes out her chair and goes running into Gabby’s arms. Even though co-parenting is easy with Gabby, compared to the horror stories I’ve heard, often I wish it was just me and Willow.
But seeing her excited to see her mum sends a slice of guilt through me.
I’ve been feeling so resentful towards my ex.
But Gabby’s not a bad person, and Willow needs her mother. She needs us both.
“Hey, beautiful.” Despite being pregnant, Gabby still lifts Willow into her arms and brings her back over to the kitchen table. “Looks like you need to finish your yogurt.”
Willow slides back into her chair and Gabby takes the seat opposite me.
“How come you’re here today, Mommy? Usually I don’t see you when Daddy’s here with me.”
Gabby flashes me a look that says, This kid is far too smart for us.
I flash her one back that says, We’re fucked as she gets older.
We smile at each other, and I know she’s thinking the same thing as me. We’re the luckiest parents on earth to have a daughter as bright and happy as Willow. I just want it to stay that way.
“Well, Daddy and I want to talk to you about something.”
Willow takes another spoonful of yogurt. “About getting a dog?” she asks.
Gabby laughs. “Your dad isn’t getting a dog.”
She pushes out her bottom lip and does her fake sad face before laughing. “I know. Daddy doesn’t want a pet.” She shrugs.
“We wanted to talk to you about something else,” Gabby says. “About a change in where we all live.”
That gets Willow’s attention. She frowns and looks between us. My stomach drops and I feel completely helpless. I know this change is inevitable, but that doesn’t stop me from hating the entire thing.
“Mommy and Ray have a house where we live.”
Willow nods. “Where you stay when you’re not here with me and Daddy sleeps here.”
“Right,” Gabby says. “And we want you to come and sleep over at that house.”
“When?” Willow says.
Gabby let’s out a breath. “Instead of Mommy coming to stay here, we thought you could come and stay with Mommy and Ray.”
“I’m not going to live here anymore?”
“Yes, you will,” I say. “Daddy will live here all the time, and on Wednesday night, Thursday night, Friday night, and Saturday night, you’ll be here with Daddy, as usual.”
“And then, when I would normally come and sleep here,” Gabby says, “you’d come to Mommy’s house.”
Willow’s silent for a second. “So I would go to your house and then come home.”
“Right,” I say. “You’d still be coming home every week.”
“But Mommy’s house would be your home too,” Gabby says. “You’d have a bedroom there. We can decorate it together. Pick out a bedspread and some shelves for your books.”
“But my toys are here,” Willow says. “I won’t have them when I’m staying with you. And what about Lucia?” she asks, talking about her nanny.
“Lucia would come to Mommy’s house,” Gabby says.
“And my toys too?” Willow asks.
“Some of them,” Gabby says.
We both fall silent and watch Willow watching us.
“How does that sound?” Gabby asks.
We’ve agreed not to tell Willow about the pregnancy yet. I don’t want to drop too much on her at once, and even though Gabby will be showing soon, I think it’s better to wait.
“Okay,” Willow says. “And I get new toys at your place?”
I cut Gabby off before she can agree. I don’t want Willow turning out spoiled. “You have lots of toys here. You can take some over to your new house and keep some here with Daddy.”
“I don’t want you to be lonely,” Willow says, looking at me. “You should have Bear Bear to sleep with while I’m at Mommy’s.”
“I’d like that,” I say.
“Okay.” Willow takes another spoonful of yogurt, like our conversation is all done.
Gabby and I share another look, as if to say, Is that it?
But of course that won’t be it. Any scars Willow has from her childhood won’t necessarily show up now. It might be decades before any pain surfaces.
When Penny died, the pain was instantaneous.
We all lived in a trance for what felt like years.
We went to school, came home, ate, went to bed…
it was as if we were all living but dead inside.
Penny’s death changed something in us all so completely and utterly, I don’t think any of us were the same again.
Penny took a part of all our souls when she left.
I can’t bear the thought of anything like that ever happening to Willow.
But for now, my daughter’s happy. And that’s the best I can hope for.
“Okay,” Gabby says. “I’m going to leave you with your yogurt.”
“I love you, Mommy,” Willow says, reaching up with her sticky fingers for a cuddle from her mother.
I walk Gabby to the front door.
“So that went well,” Gabby says.
“The jury’s out,” I reply. “I’ll let you know if she says any more.”
“She’s a happy, well-adjusted kid,” Gabby says. “She has two parents who want the best for her. She’s going to be fine.”
I’m not prepared to give my judgement quite yet.
“What about you?” Gabby asks. “How are you with everything?”
“How am I?” I ask.
“This is a big change for you,” Gabby asks.
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
Gabby offers a flimsy smile. “What about the woman who met Willow. How’s she?”
I shake my head. “I have far too much going on with Willow over the next few months to think about anything else.”
Gabby sighs. “Deacon.”
“What?” I say, my tone defensive.
“I want to see you happy. And if you’re prepared to introduce our daughter to someone, you must have really liked her. Tell me you didn’t end things because of Willow.”
“Why is it so difficult for you to see that Willow is my complete priority?”
“Have you ever considered what a pressure that might be for Willow as she gets older? As a small child, it feels good to be the center of someone’s universe.
But as she gets bigger, her world is going to expand, and if she feels like she’s the only thing you have in your world, that might start to feel like a burden. ”
I take a step back, as if I’m trying to find my balance. What is she talking about? I’m trying to make sure Willow is as happy as I can. I’m not burdening her. I’m trying not to burden her.
“Think about it,” Gabby says. “Take care of yourself. Maybe try doing something for yourself once in a while.”
I open the door and watch as Gabby descends the stoop.
Is Gabby trying to justify the impact on Willow of her getting married and having a baby?
I’m confused. She seems to be saying if I put Willow at the center of everything, I’m creating a problem for our daughter.
But problems are what I’m trying to avoid.
I close the door and pad back to the kitchen table.
“Everything okay here?” I ask, as Willow pushes out her chair and takes her yogurt pot and spoon and heads to the dishwasher.
“Is this recycling?” she asks Lucia.
“Yes, but I have to wash it. Put your spoon in the dishwasher like we practiced.”
“Daddy, look,” Willow calls. “You pull out the tray like this and there are places for the spoon.”
She proudly puts the spoon on the rack, pushes it in and then lifts up the door to the dishwasher.
“Now I wash my hands,” she announces. Normally Lucia or I have to remind her to wash her hands about three times before it registers. And even then, we usually have to help her. But things are changing.
Willow’s growing up.
But it’s too fast. Too much. Too soon. Not for her. For me. The realization hits me full in the gut.
Maybe it’s me who’s not ready for change, not Willow.
Maybe it’s my scars from losing Penny that make me cling on to the status quo.
Things start to come into focus. When Gabby told me she was pregnant, she mentioned Penny, and I just couldn’t understand why. But Gabby thought I was worried Willow would die like Penny did.
Perhaps that’s part of it. But more than that, I want to protect Willow from the aftershocks of something bad happening to her. I want to shield her from pain and from grief because I know how deep they cut, how sometimes they never heal. Grief has made its home inside me, and there it still lives.
I watch Willow washing her hands and drying them earnestly on the towel Lucia hands to her.
She’s so grown up already, and she relishes the small bits of independence she has.
I sigh. Maybe it’s impossible to be an impenetrable shield for Willow, maybe that’s why I’m so protective—I know she’s going to endure pain in her life, and I hate it.
The more I think about it, the more I realize, it’s inevitable. Part of my job is to help her through the difficult times, help her cope. And maybe another part of my job is to prepare her to cope.
Aurora was right; Willow needs some ups and downs in life. It can’t be wrong to wrap a baby up in cotton wool and make sure they’re as safe and secure as possible, with no worries or concerns. But Willow isn’t a baby anymore. And she’s not going to be little forever.
“How are you feeling about having two bedrooms?” I ask, as she comes toward me.
“A little bit excited,” she says. “And a little bit nervous.”
I nod and pull her onto my lap. “That’s how I feel as well, sometimes.”
“You do?” She puts her palm on my face.
“Yes,” I say. “Sometimes it’s good to be a little bit nervous. But it’s important to talk about how you’re feeling.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she says, and I’m eighty-five percent sure she didn’t compute what I just said.
“And you and Mommy are going to decorate your new bedroom.”
“And you’re going to live here all the time,” she says, her eyes bright and her smile wide.
I glance around at the place I’m going to get to call home full-time from August 16th. “Yeah,” I say. “That’s going to be a change for Daddy.”
“I’ll know exactly where you are when you’re not with me. It’s good,” Willow says.
I chuckle at the idea that my daughter wants to keep track of me, but I can also see how it’s actually comforting to know that I’m okay without her. Maybe Gabby has a point.
“Maybe we should do a bit of decorating,” I say to Willow, but she’s off with her favorite doll, Lily. She’s not listening.
But maybe I’ll make some changes around here. I could move back into the primary bedroom, which is bigger than the one I’m currently in. But I’d redecorate first. Maybe even change the sofa in the living room area, which I’ve always hated.
I stand and walk around the space, and I start to see things with fresh eyes.