“D-Dexter never told us you were pregnant. We never knew anything about this,” he says, his tone cold but his expression softening.
“According to you, her father’s not this Chris person. Her father is the monster that you want to get rid of!” I say harshly.
“What’s her name?” Mrs. Scott says, so softly I have to strain to make it out. A smile spreads across her face, and her eyes water as she looks into the picture. “She looks just like him.” Her voice breaks, and she covers her mouth.
“You have a daughter with Chris?” he says sullenly.
It’s funny that now I have a baby with Chris, when a minute ago I was married to Cal.
“Look at her, William. She’s beautiful,” she says earnestly and tries to show the picture to her husband.
He glances at it for a moment then scowls again angrily. “It’s bad enough he took it upon himself to marry this woman, but to have a child? I didn’t think even he’d sink that low.” He walks back over to the window and hits the window frame.
“William, calm down.”
“How could he do this? Why wouldn’t Dexter tell us about this?”
“William, we have a grandchild!” she says, trying to focus on the one positive thing in the room.
“That’s Cal’s daughter! Not Chris’s. There’s a difference!” he yells at her.
Her smile fades, and she scowls at him, takes the picture, and puts it close to his face. “Whose eyes are these? Whose smile is this? It’s Chris’s. I see my grandchild, William!”
“I can’t believe this!” he roars.
“Someone should have told me!” I screech, tired of being ignored. “Secrets aren’t okay when you’re the one on the other end, are they?”
They look down, guilt on their faces.
“No one bothered to tell me that the man I fell in love with, the man I married and have a child with, has a personality disorder? I guess once he came back home, you all were a happy family again, never mind the family he left back in Chicago. It would be too much of an inconvenience to inform me of what was going on! Caylen and I were too much of a liability to your perfect little life!” I shout, feeling my entire body shaking.
“We had no idea that you were having a child. Dexter never told us you were pregnant!” Mrs. Scott tries to explain.
“And if I wasn’t? You were just going to let me sulk in the dark, having no clue about him. What’s in the past is just forgotten, huh? You may not think of Cal as a real person, but he’s real to me, and at the very least I’m real! I’m flesh and bones, and I have feelings. I fell in love with him, a man, not a figment of my imagination or this monster that you claim him to be. When he left me, it hurt more than anything. I cried every night. Every part of me ached. You love your son! I love my husband! Each moment you were happy with him, I was alone, wondering where my husband was! I had no idea if he was hurt or if he was even alive, but you had the comfort of knowing your son was safe each time he disappeared!” I say, feeling the tears well up from years of being held back. “So now that you know that I have a child with Cal, or Chris, or whatever he wants to call himself, what now? Am I just supposed to disappear and take care of her on my own? Leave this Chris person to live his perfect life with his fiancée?”
Mr. Scott just looks as if he sees through me.
“W-we—of course not. We’re going to tell him. He has a beautiful little girl,” she says, looking at the picture.
Mr. Scott frowns at her and me. “I’m going to call Dexter about this,” he growls and leaves the room.
“I am so sorry, Lauren,” Mrs. Scott says, tears continuing to fall from her eyes. “We had no idea. I know we were wrong for not telling you. But if we knew you had a child, we would have told Chris. I am so sorry.” Her voice gives in, and she then takes time to compose herself.
I look at her and almost want to hug her. She seems genuinely sorry, and her presence is so warm. In a different situation, she would have been a wonderful mother-in-law. I put my purse back on my shoulder and take a deep breath. It’s been more than a long day. I walk over to her and hold my hand out for my phone.
“Do you… do you mind—could you send me one of these?” she asks, reluctantly handing me back my phone.
I reach into my purse and pull out the one wallet-size picture I have, which is of both Caylen and me, and write my number on the back of it. “Her name is Caylen. This is my number.” I turn and head toward the door.
She follows me to see me out. “Where… where are you staying?” Mrs. Scott asks with a sniff, trying to recover from what just happened as much as I am.
“I don’t know yet. It’ll be somewhere close,” I tell her, opening the door.
She looks behind her and looks as if she wants to say something but doesn’t. “Ritter Inn is a really nice place—not too far away, affordable. Good people work there.” She gives me a forced smile.
“I’m still not sure if I believe all of what you’ve told me. I mean, no one has been exactly honest with me up until this point.” She opens her mouth to say something, but I stop her. “I know you did what you did to protect your son because you love him. Just as you understand that I love my daughter, and she’s not going to grow up without a father. If it were just me, I’d walk away from this. After all, Cal kept me in the dark just as much as everyone else.” I stop, not wanting to shed any more tears. “But she deserves a father, whether it’s Cal, or Chris, or if he decides to call himself Bob. One of them had a part in making her.”
I try to soften my tone. “Tell your husband I am not going to disappear. You have three days to tell him whatever you haven’t, because when I see him, I’m telling him everything. But I think he’d prefer to hear it from you rather than me. I think we’ll have enough to talk about without me having to tell him everything you won’t.”
She nods, eyes wide. I exit the house and hurry down the front steps. When I reach my car, I look back and see that she’s still watching me. I get in and quickly pull off. So much of what they said could be true… but is all of it honest? I’ll have to judge for myself. The meaning of honesty seems blurry.
April 1st, 2011
It’s been three days since Cal got back from his last trip. Working. It’s funny—well, not really. His out-of-town trips have become more frequent, and not only that, but impromptu. Apparently, they can happen in the middle of the night, with little notice, as I’ve come to learn. I wake in the morning to not find my husband next to me. It isn’t too bad. I try to think of it as exciting, not knowing if he’ll be home or not, kind of like a game. There’s nothing strange or disrespectful about it at all—according to Cal.
I think back three months to our first fight about his lack of communication. How it was out of character compared to the trips he took before we were married. Well, as it turns out, communicating with me like a normal person… that was actually out of character for him.
The only thing he’s retained from that little verbal spat is to send text messages. Oh, how lucky I am to get those. Usually two words; if I’m lucky, three. “Made it.” “Be home soon.” “Don’t be mad.” He probably has them auto-typed.