I needed a day off from feeling and thinking. But now it just seems like a day wasted. I was sort of prepared to confirm that she was right. To explain to her that what I have is an actual condition, and not some made up crap. Knowing her, though, she’s figured everything out. She may have possibly been willing to stay with me; it wasn’t like I couldn’t get a divorce. I’m not even sure this marriage is even legitimate. I’m sure the girl―Lauren―I have to stop calling her the girl―she’s not some random woman, after all. I’m sure Lauren would’ve agreed to sever ties after realizing I’m not the man she loves.
But a kid, knowing that I have a child with someone else, that’s something I don’t think Jenna will accept, and I can’t blame her. I’d just like to hold onto the memory of me being happily engaged to the woman I chose, and thinking what our kids would look like a little longer.
Well, there wouldn’t have been any kids until she finished law school, passed the bar, and established herself with a firm, but that’s irrelevant now. After I brush my teeth and throw on my clothes, I head to the kitchen. My stomach is already craving the bacon and eggs my mom is frying up. She glances back at me as I sit down at the table. She already has a plate fixed for me. She sits down at the table across from me and pours orange juice in our glasses. I start to dig into my plate, and she clears her throat. I roll my eyes as she takes my hand.
“Lord, we thank you for this food you blessed us to receive, and for our bodies to be healthy enough to receive it. Amen,” she says, and I grunt an “amen” before shoving a spoonful of eggs in my mouth. I’m trying to count the few things I have to be thankful for this morning. But as of right now, I’m not in a thankful mood.
Someone’s screwed up my life, and if God planned my life like this, I’m pretty pissed at Him right now. But since my mom is still here, when she came so close to being gone, I won't voice that opinion to her.
“Is Dad out back already?” I ask, noticing she’s not set plate for him.
She nods. “He wanted an early start,” she says after finishing her juice.
“How are you feeling?” she asks, and I’m not sure if she’s referring to my mental state or the hangover from yesterday. I glance up at her a second before my eyes land back on my plate.
“I don’t know,” I admit honestly. Today, I’m kind of numb. I don’t how to feel or think, but it’s better than being furious or hopeless, so I’ll take it.
“Lauren is going to come here tomorrow,” she says quietly, her voice normal, though the statement is anything but. I let out a deep breath.
“Yeah?” I say. I’m in a daze. Lauren, my wife, Cal’s wife—at this point, whose wife she is doesn’t matter. It’s definitely my DNA in her kid. My mom gets up from the table, opens the drawer, and then sits back down.
“I didn’t get a chance to show you this. You left so abruptly that day,” she says, sliding a picture across the table. Her lips are pressed tightly together, but curved in a smile. I pick up the picture and let out a deep sigh. It’s a little girl, maybe a year old, if that. She has big green eyes and dark curly hair all over her head. Two deep dimples. I involuntarily let out a sigh. She looks just like my baby pictures, only she’s a girl.
“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” my mom says, not hiding her smile any longer.
Wow. I really have a daughter, and she looks just like me. I never thought my first time seeing my child would be in a picture when she’s been in the world a―I don’t even know how old she is.
“What’s her name?” I ask, resting my forehead in my hand.
“Caylen,” she says quietly. I let out a huff.
“She named her after him, didn’t she?” I say with an angry laugh.
“I—I know this isn’t the best situation, and we never imagined things happening this way for you, but this doesn’t have to be all bad,” my mom says, grabbing my hand and squeezing it. I shake my head.
“I—I’ve missed her first birthday, first word, and first steps. I don’t even know how old she is,” I say.
“We missed yours, too, but that doesn’t make us love you any less. If we’d been there, would that make you love us any more?” she asks with a sincere smile. She’s right. Things could be a lot worse. I have to stop feeling sorry for myself; whether I like it or not, I’m a dad. I’ve always wanted kids. I grew up the only child, and if it wasn’t for Lisa, it would have been pretty lonely.
If it were up to me, I’d have enough kids to start a little league team. Jenna made it clear that wasn’t happening whenever we did start a family. She doesn’t really want kids, but said she’d have one for me. Now she’s probably not going to speak to me again, let alone have my child. I can’t see any woman taking me seriously with something like this. Hi, my name is Chris, and I might turn into a jerk-off any minute, literally. So, this is probably the only kid I’ll ever have.
“Is she going to bring her...Caylen with her tomorrow?” I correct myself.
“No. I believe she’s back in Chicago,” my mom says, taking a drink of her coffee. Chicago. That’s at least a three to four hour drive. I’ve only been there, or remember being there, for a trip during high school. I let out a sigh. How am I supposed to be a parent four hours away?
“How much do you know about her?” I ask.
“Well, not much, Christopher. Dexter told us she graduated from Chicago University a few years ago, and that she was an artist, I’m not sure what kind. She’s originally from Michigan.” She sighs and folds her hands. “He told us that she was a good person.” Dexter’s definition of a good person doesn’t hold much weight with me. “He also said that…that Cal really loved her,” her eyes briefly find mine before glancing at the table. Loved her? He didn’t love her enough to tell her the truth, but my parents didn’t tell me the truth either.
I let out another deep sigh. She’s coming here, and I don’t even want to think about what she’s going to say to me. I have the face of the guy who abandoned her, who left her with a kid. But even with all that, she looked at me with anything but resentment or hatred. Well, that is until I told her I didn’t know who she was.
You can’t get married. You already are married.
I fold my hands together. It’s more like I’ve been sitting on them. Today I need to start to figure this out, with Jenna and Lauren. The woman who should or would have been my wife, who can’t now, because I’m married to a woman I have a child with—a woman I didn’t even know existed before this week.
“What do I tell Jenna, Mom? How do I tell her this?” I look at the little girl in the picture again, trying to get my brain to connect that this is my daughter.
“You can only tell her the truth, and hope that she understands,” my mom says weakly, as if even she doesn’t believe Jenna will understand this.
“And Lauren. I don’t know what she wants from me,” I trail off. “Will she understand that?” I sigh. I don’t even know what I expect her to understand―that I’m not the guy that married her and knocked her up. But I am. I’m still trying to wrap my own head around this.