“Is she-?”
She shook her head. “Not here.”
I felt myself relax. I didn’t know if I could handle seeing her. Out of sight, partially out of mind was what was working for me at the moment.
“So, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be home with the pregnant wifey witch?”
We fell into step and I grinned at her. “I’m here for a pretzel actually. She had a craving.”
“God, that’s embarrassing — once the big man on campus, now the bitch’s errand boy.”
I laughed. Cammie was always good for a laugh. I held the door open for her, and the air conditioning blasted me in the face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Oh, you know me,” she sang, stopping at a rack of skirts. “I like to spend money.”
I nodded and stuck my hands in my pockets, feeling awkward.
“Actually,” she said, turning to me, “I’m looking for a dress to wear to a wedding. Help me?”
I shrugged. “Since when do you need help shopping?”
“Oh, that’s right.” She tucked her lips in and shook her head. “You have to get back to your pregnant wife. Don’t let me hold you up.” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and pulled a slinky white dress off the rack.
I scratched the back of my head. “White makes you look matronly.”
She narrowed her eyes and put the dress back, while still looking at me. “Who asked you?”
She held up a blue silk dress for me to see and I nodded. She shoved it at me and I took it.
“So, do you know what you’re having … boy … girl … seed of Chucky?”
“We’re not finding out.”
She tossed another dress my way. I re-shelved it when she turned away.
“I own a nanny agency, you know. So, when the little bundle comes along, I’m sure I can find it a new mother.”
She held up a Gucci dress and I nodded. “She’ll be fine. You know I’m traditional about those things.”
Cammie snorted. “You might be, but I highly doubt your lovely wife will be offering up the breast any time soon.”
I ground my teeth together, which she noticed right away.
“Sore subject much? Don’t worry C-Dizzle, I’ve seen this before. Tell her you’ll buy her a new set when it’s all over. That should bring her around.”
I cocked my head. That wasn’t a bad idea.
I followed her to the changing room.
“So,” I said, leaning against the wall outside. “How-”
“She’s fine.”
I nodded, looking at the floor.
“Is she-”
She burst out wearing the blue dress and spun in a circle.
“Don’t even bother trying the others on,” I said.
She made a kissy face at the mirror and nodded. “You’re right.”
The door slammed closed. A minute later, she came out dressed and carrying the garment on her arm.
“Well, that was easy.”
I walked with her to the register and watched as she plucked out her credit card. “Now a gift and shoes and I’m all set.”
“What’s the dress for again?”
She leveled her eyes on me, a wicked smile playing on her lips.
“Didn’t I tell you?” she said innocently. “This dress is for Olivia’s wedding.”
A tremor of shock passed through me. Suddenly, all of the colors around me were bleeding together, hurting my eyes. I felt sick, my chest constricting with each second that passed. Cammie’s lips were moving; she was saying something. I shook my head to clear it.
“What?”
She smirked at me and tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. Then she patted my arm sympathetically.
“Hurts, doesn’t it, motherfucker?”
“When?” I breathed.
“Uh-uh. I’m not telling you that.”
I licked my lips. “Cammie … tell me it’s not Turner.”
Her face broke into smile. “Nope.”
I felt the pressure in my chest release a little. A little. I hated Turner. I hadn’t even met the guy. It was by sight alone.
“Noah Stein,” Cammie said, grinning. “Funny story,” she said, making her eyes really big. “She met him on that little impromptu trip she took to Rome. You remember? The one where she came baring her soul, and you turned her away.”
“It didn’t happen like that.”
She cocked the corner of her mouth up and shook her head like she was disappointed in me. “You had your chance, big boy. Fate hates you guys.”
“Leah had just lost the baby and her sister tried to commit suicide. I couldn’t leave her. I was trying to do the right thing for once.”
She jerked to look at me. “Leah was…” her voice trailed off and her eyes glazed over. I cocked my head.
“Leah lost a baby?” she repeated. I saw something in her eyes that made me take a step closer.
“What are you not saying?”
She pursed her lips and shook her head at me. “When you went to Rome with Leah, were you trying to have a baby?”
Cammie was known for asking uncomfortable questions, but this was a little personal, even for her.
“No. We were just taking a break. Getting away from everything. Trying to work on-”
“Your marriage,” she finished.
“Why are you asking me this?”
She suddenly looked up from the patch of floor she’d been staring at. “Just interested, I guess. Hey, I’ve got to get out of here.”
She leaned up to kiss me on the cheek, but something wasn’t sitting right with me. Cammie was an obnoxious spitfire. When she started acting awkward, something was wrong.
“Cammie…”
“Don’t,” she said. “She’s happy. She’s getting married. Leave her alone.”
She started walking away, but I grabbed her wrist. “You said that to me once before, do you remember?”
Her face paled. She yanked her arm away.
“Just tell me when?” I pleaded. “Cammie, please…”
She swallowed. “Saturday.”
I closed my eyes and dropped my head. “Bye, Cam.”
“Bye, Caleb.”
I didn’t get Leah’s pretzel. I got back in my car, drove to the beach and sat on the sand looking out at the water. Leah called me five times, but I sent the calls to voicemail. Saturday was two days away. She was probably a mess. She always was when there was a big life change on the horizon. I rubbed my chest. It felt so heavy.
I watched the couples for a long time, walking hand in hand along the water. It was too late to swim, but some kids were playing in the surf, kicking water at each other. In a few weeks, I’d have one of my own. The thought was frightening and exciting — the way you felt before getting on a roller coaster. Except this roller coaster ride would last eighteen years, and I wasn’t sure if my riding partner really wanted to be a mother. Leah tended to like the idea of things more than the actual things.
Once, when we were first married, she’d come home from work cradling a Collie puppy in her arms. “I saw him in a pet shop window and I couldn’t resist,” she’d said. “We can take him on walks together and get him one of those collars with his name on it.”
Despite my skepticism about the duration of the dog’s stay in my house, I’d smiled and helped her pick out a name — Teddy. The following day I’d come home from work to find the house filled with dog supplies — squeaking hamburgers, stuffed toys and tiny, florescent tennis balls. Aren’t dogs colorblind? I remember thinking, picking one up and examining it. Teddy had a fluffy bed, a rhinestone studded collar and a retractable leash. He even had food and water bowls with his name on them. I studied this all with a sense of dread and watched Leah measure out half cups of food into his dog bowl. For two days she bought things for our new puppy, yet I never once remember seeing her so much as touch him. By day four, Teddy was gone. Given to a neighbor along with his florescent balls.
??
?Too much mess,” Leah said. “I couldn’t housetrain him.”
I didn’t bother to tell her that it took longer than three days to housebreak a puppy. And so Teddy was gone before we could ever go on a walk with him. Please God, don’t let a baby be another puppy to Leah.
I stood up, dusting the sand off my jeans. I had to get home — to my wife. That was the life I chose, or what was chosen for me. I didn’t even know anymore where my choices started and ended.
Saturday. I told Leah that I had errands to run. I set out early, stopping at the liquor store for a bottle of scotch I knew I’d need later. Tossing it in the trunk, I drove the twenty minutes to my mother’s house. My parents lived in Ft. Lauderdale. They bought their house from a pro golfer in the nineties, something which my mother still bragged about to her friends. When Robert Norrocks owned this house…
She opened the door before I could knock.
“What’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
I pulled a face, shook my head. She made a show of looking relieved. I wondered who taught her to make a performance of every emotion she felt. Both my grandparents had been pretty stoic people. As I walked past her into the foyer, her hand fluttered to her neck where her fingers absently found the locket she wore. It was a nervous habit I’d always found endearing. Not today.
I walked into the living room and sat down, waiting for her to follow.
“What is it, Caleb? You’re scaring me.”
“I need to talk to you about something,” I tried again. “I need to talk to my mother about something. Can you do that without being…”
“Bitchy?” she offered.
I nodded.
“Should I be afraid?”
I stood up and walked to the window, looking out at her precious roses. She had every shade of pink and red. It was a mess of thorns and color. I didn’t like roses. They reminded me of the women in my life; beautiful and bright, but if you touched them they made you bleed.
“Olivia is getting married today. I need you to talk me out of going to the church and stopping her.”
The only indication that she’d heard me was the slight expansion of white around her irises.
She opened her mouth and then abruptly closed it.
“I’ll take that as your blessing.” I strode toward the door. My mother jumped up and blocked me. She was pretty stealthy in heels.
“Caleb, honey … nothing good can come out of that. You and Olivia are-”
“Don’t say it.”
“Over,” she finished. “That was my non-bitchy version.”
I grimaced. “It’s not over for me.”
“It’s obviously over for her. She’s getting married.”
She reached up and cupped my face in her hands. “I’m so sorry you’re hurting.”
I didn’t say anything. She sighed and pulled me down on the couch to sit next to her. “I’m going to put aside my extreme dislike for that girl and tell you something that you might find useful.”
I listened. If she was putting aside her dislike, I potentially had mind-blowing advice coming my way.
“Three things,” she said, patting my hand. “It’s okay that you love her. Don’t stop. If you turn your feelings off for her, you might turn everything off. That’s not good. Second, don’t wait for her. You have to live your life — you have a baby on the way.” She smiled at me sadly as I waited for the grand finale. “And finally … wait for her.”
She laughed at the confused expression on my face. “Life does not accommodate you, it shatters you. Love is mean, but it’s good. It keeps us alive. If you need her, then wait. But, right now she’s getting married. It’s her day and you can’t ruin it.”
Love is mean.
I loved my mom — especially when she wasn’t being a bitch.
I jogged down the stairs to my car. She watched me from the doorway, tugging on her locket. Maybe she was right. I wanted Olivia to be happy. To have the things that were taken from her as a child. I couldn’t give her those things because I was giving them to someone else.
I drove aimlessly for a while before eventually pulling into a random strip mall. Florida was a maze of peach-colored strip malls. Each one bragged a fast food chain front and center like the mast on a ship. Flanking the token McDonalds or Burger King was always a nail place. I pulled into a spot in front of Nail Happy. The shop was empty except for the workers. When I got out instead of a woman, they looked disappointed. I pulled out my phone, leaning against the door. It was cool outside — not cool enough for a jacket — but Florida cool. My thumbs lingered over the keyboard.
I love you
Delete
If you leave him, I’ll leave her
Delete
Can we talk?
Delete
Peter Pan
Delete
I pocketed my phone. Punched a tree. Drove home with bloody knuckles. Love was fucking mean.
The day after I barged into Leah’s, she got a restraining order. If I go anywhere near my daughter, I’ll get arrested. I was almost arrested that night. The cops had me handcuffed when my brother showed up. He spoke quietly to Leah for a few minutes before coming over and taking off my cuffs.
“She’s not going to press charges, little brother, but she’s going to have us file a report, and tomorrow she’s going to get a restraining order.”
“Was that your idea?”
He smirked at me. We didn’t exchange any more words. I just got in my car and drove away. Leah filed a report. She claims that I kicked down the door, threatened her life and woke Estella up in the middle of the night —drunk. She is also back to claiming that I am not Estella’s father. I wonder if she lied to Olivia to torment me. I don’t know what goes on in that woman’s head. Or what went on in my head for so many years. Either way, Leah’s woken the beast. Olivia directs me to an attorney that deals primarily with twisted family issues like mine. She says she’s the best in the business. Her name is Moira Lynda. Ariom — I like that one. After listening to me speak for ten minutes, Moira holds up her hand to stop me. She has a tattoo on her hand, on the skin between her thumb and pointer finger. It looks like a four-leaf clover.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she says. “The woman finds out that you want a divorce and tells you that the child you’ve been raising for six months isn’t yours — and you believe her? Just like that?”
“I didn’t have any reason not to. She didn’t want a divorce. At that point, it would have only benefited her to let me believe Estella was mine.”
“Oh, Caleb.” She puts a hand to her forehead. “Didn’t you see what was happening? You came out and dropped a couple bombs on her, and at some point in that conversation she decided that she didn’t want you, she wanted revenge. And that’s exactly what’s happening.”
I stare out her window at the traffic below and know it’s true. But, why hadn’t I had the sight to see it? If someone other than myself were telling me this story, I’d laugh at their stupidity. Why do humans have such a hard time seeing their own shit clearly?
“She has you by the balls here, Caleb. There is no proof of what happened that night. But, there is proof that for the last three years of that child’s life you haven’t seen her, paid child support or fought for custody. Leah has you at abandonment. And now that she knows that, she’s come back to let you know that Estella is yours, and she has the power.”
God.
“What do I do?”
“You get a court-ordered paternity test. That’s going to take some time. Then we ask for visitation. It’ll be supervised at first, but as long as you comply with the rules and show up to see Estella, we can push for joint custody.”
“I want full.”
“Yeah well, I want to be a swimsuit model. That doesn’t change the fact that I’m chubby and ate a cheeseburger for dinner last night.”
“Okay,” I say. “Do what you need to do. I’m in it. Whatever it is. Is there a way for me to see Estella?”
It??
?s such a stupid question, but I had to ask. There is no way Leah is going to let me anywhere near my daughter. I have no proof, but I’m already thinking of her as my daughter again. Have I ever stopped?
Moira laughs at me.
“No way. Just sit tight and let me do my thing. We’ll have you back in her life soon enough, but it’s going to be a bit of a fight to get there.”
I nod.
I leave her office and go right to Olivia’s. She’s in shorts and a tank top when I get there, mopping the floors and looking annoyed. I lean against the wall and tell her what Moira said while she works. She’s cleaning with gusto, and when that happens I know she’s trying to distract herself. There is also a bowl of Doritos on the table, and she keeps walking over to it and pushing chips into her mouth. Something’s up, but I know even if I ask, she won’t tell me.
“Do whatever she says,” is all Olivia tells me. There are a few minutes where we don’t speak. Her crunching dominates the room.
“She didn’t seem sorry,” Olivia says, finally. “It was the strangest thing. She just showed up at my office to tell me all of that. She knew I’d tell you. Seems sinister.”
“She’s up to something,” I agree.
“Maybe she’s out of money and she figures she needs to hit you up for child support.”
I shake my head. “Her father built an empire. That company was a small portion of what he was dipping his interest into. Leah doesn’t need money.”
“Then she’s out for revenge, Moira is right. What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “Fight for Estella. Even if she wasn’t mine I’d want to fight for her.”
She stops mopping. A piece of her hair has slipped from the messy pile on her head. She tugs on it then slides it behind her ear.
“Don’t make me love you more,” she says. “My clock is ticking and you’re talking baby.”
I grind my teeth to keep from smiling.
“Let’s make one,” I say, taking a step toward her.
The whites of her eyes explode around her pupils. She hides behind her mop.