5. Michael #2
“Well, I’m a new parent. Rachel and I… It’s new.”
“Oh.” Diana’s lips part, eyes locked with mine. Damn, she’s got beautiful lips. “Is that why she calls you Michael, then?”
I swallow once. “I—Yeah. That’s why. She’s been with me for a year, but we’re…
We’re still adapting. It’s just Rachel and me.
And every time I feel like we’re making progress, something happens and just…
” I release a breath, not realizing how tense I’d been feeling.
“Anyway. It… It hasn’t been easy. It’s been amazing,” I correct quickly when her expression shifts just a bit, “but it hasn’t been easy. ”
Diana’s stance relaxes and her features grow softer. Something resembling hope starts to build inside me. Could it be that me and the shrew have finally found some common fucking ground?
“I’m not new to parenthood, but definitely new to single parenthood, and… Yeah, it’s been crazy. I get it. I guess you could say that’s why I’ve been a bit tense about things.”
I snort, feeling a wide smile spread across my face. “A bit?”
She rolls her eyes at me with a soft laugh. “Fine. A lot.” Her eyes are apologetic when she meets my gaze. “And I guess I can now see why what I said the other night bothered you so much. You’re learning how to be a parent. Everything must feel impossible.”
Before she can go back to chopping the damn cucumber, I pull the cutting board away from her and take her pathetic paring knife from her hand.
“Hey! I was—”
I cut her off. “You’re going to end up chopping your fingers off. This knife is too dull. And yes, sometimes I barely recognize myself. Sometimes I feel so lost I pray someone invents Google Maps for life or something. But Rachel’s amazing. I don’t regret becoming her dad.”
She leans against the counter, small smile on her face as she keeps her gaze locked on my quick-moving hand. In no time, I’m done cubing the damn cucumber, despite the sad excuse for a blade.
“What else you need me to chop?”
With a laugh, she pushes three carrots toward me, and I get back to work, feeling something unwind between the two of us.
“I get what you mean, though. About feeling a little lost,” she adds quietly.
I look up from my work to catch her staring out the kitchen window, swallowing hard once.
“You’re divorced, though, right? So at least you had help in the beginning with the girls? You’re not completely a fish out of water besides just learning to manage it mostly on your own.” It’s an odd and backhanded way of finding out more about Camila and Emiliana’s dad, I’ll admit.
“Yes, I’m divorced. But to be honest, Rodrigo never really did much.
So the cooking, the driving them to school and homework and stuff—I always did that pretty much on my own.
But I guess just knowing there was someone there—useless as he was—still helped with some peace of mind.
It’s just, now that I have to support the three of us, I have to do all this additional schooling and training and work and…
My point is, it would’ve been nice to have someone around to help while I do all this.
But he never really helped in a big way, so… ” She shrugs.
“Nothing? He didn’t help with anything?” There’s no hiding the disbelief or anger in my voice.
She shrugs once, crosses her arms defensively in front of her chest. “Of course he did the easy things. The fun things. But never the… the more difficult ones. Disciplining, taking responsibility, doctor’s appointments…
Would even forget they went to them. Hasn’t asked once about how Emi’s been doing since her diagnosis. ”
“Jesus. Some people.” I shake my head angrily and keep chopping, with a little more force this time. But who am I to judge? Sure, I had parents just like Rodrigo, if not worse. But I’m no better, am I? Until recently, I was only ever the fun uncle.
“Yeah. It is what it is, right? You can’t change who people are.”
Her words are like a knife in my chest because I want to change.
I don’t want to be the same guy I used to be.
But I know that even though I feel that determination deep in my gut, my first instinct is always to think about myself.
To think about how something will affect me.
To choose what I want and not what I should do.
“I sure hope you’re wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re saying people can’t change. But we just talked about new single parenthood and having to adapt to a whole new life. And there’s just no way I can allow myself to go back to who I was before Rachel and I became a family.” I don’t want to be that guy again.
Diana shoots me a soft smile. “It isn’t the same. We all had lives before our kids. But you chose Rachel. You wanted this. You wouldn’t have adopted a kid if you didn’t want this life.”
Fuck.
There’s no hiding the shame I feel, I’m sure. Because I did flat out reject it at one point in my life. And I certainly didn’t ask for it the second time the opportunity to become a parent presented itself.
“I didn’t adopt Rachel. I mean, I did. But she’s my biological daughter. She just… wasn’t my daughter before.”
Diana’s nose scrunches. “I’m confused.”
I wince. “Rachel is my biological daughter. But I only recently became her father when her mother passed and left her to me. I wasn’t a part of Rachel’s life in that way before.”
Diana brings her hands to her mouth, quietly murmuring, “Oh, you didn’t know she existed,” behind them.
“No.” I shift in my seat, wishing I were anywhere but here, having to explain what a shit person I was. Am? Honestly, who knows anymore? “No, I mean, I knew she existed. She and I just never had a parent-child relationship. I had always been more the fun uncle type.”
I feel it happen almost immediately. There’s no missing the way my words shift the energy between us.
We didn’t like each other much before, sure.
But I felt like she was finally loosening up as we talked.
I felt like there was something akin to an understanding or camaraderie between parents building—a burgeoning something.
But as soon as she processes my words, Diana shuts down.
“Oh,” is all I get from her.
“Oh?”
Her lips thin, barely-there smile straightens, and she avoids any and all eye contact with me. “I get it. You weren’t there for her. You decided not to be in the picture.”
“I… I didn’t say that,” I stutter, suddenly frazzled beyond comprehension. Though she’s not wrong. I did decide not to take on such a huge responsibility.
“But it’s what happened, isn’t it? You chose the selfish route. Left her alone with her mother.”
“Yes—I mean, no. Yes, I decided not to be her father, but—”
“You abandoned Rachel. You chose to abandon her mother, too. And now, what? You’re suddenly a changed man, and here to be a parent?” There’s a vicious bite and venom to her words, the kind that kills you before you have a chance to make it to a hospital.
“Hey,” I bite back, getting up from my stool. “That’s not what this is at all. You don’t even know me, or the situa—”