“I think she kicked,” she whispers.
My chest tightens as a sea of mixed emotions washes over me. On one hand, I’m happy to be on the phone with her while she experiences our baby moving inside of her. On the other, I’m devastated I’m not there to witness her face as it happens.
“Oh my God,” she murmurs. “Blackie, I feel her. I actually feel her.”
I close my eyes and a tear slips from the corner as her laugh fills my ears once more.
“It feels like butterflies.”
Forcing my eyes open, I swallow the lump in my throat and try to find my voice.
“I’ve never felt her before,” she cries. “It’s like she waited for you.”
“Put the phone on speaker and close to your belly,” I rasp.
“Okay…it’s on my belly.”
“It’s Daddy…” The words get stuck in my throat and I lose it. I bow my head as tears fall from my eyes. My knuckles turn white around the phone and I try to compose myself. “I know you don’t recognize my voice…I’ll make it up to you. I swear, I’ll make it up to you and your mother. Until then, go easy on her and…know...know I love you and I can’t wait to finally meet you.”
Holding the phone away from me, I turn my head, pressing my mouth to my bicep, muffling the anguished cry that erupts from my throat…from my fucking soul.
“Blackie?”
Biting my lip, I bring the phone back to my ear.
“Yeah.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I just…”
I can’t take any more.
“My time is up,” I lie, roughly pushing my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she whispers.
“Can I call you again?” I ask my voice cracks with every word.
“Yes.”
“Okay…I’ll…um…we’ll talk soon.”
Desperate for the pain to fade and for the gaping hole in my heart to close, I hastily hang up the phone.
Without saying goodbye.
Without telling her I love her.
I drop my head into my hands and I fucking cry.
I cry for the woman I love.
For the baby growing inside of her.
And for a fleeting second, I want to escape.
I want to drown my sorrows in a bottle of booze.
I want to tie a tourniquet around my arm and shoot my veins to kingdom come.
But more than anything, I just want to go home.
I don’t want to be an addict anymore.
I want to be the man worthy of their love.
I want to kiss my wife and hold my daughter in my arms.
For her to know my voice and how much I fucking love her.
Pushing myself out of the chair, I stride towards the door and pull it open. I make my way out of the main building and trek across the grounds to the dormitory. When I finally reach my room, I lock myself inside and sit in front of the computer. I create two email accounts. One for my wife and one for my daughter, deciding I’ll give the password to her on her eighteenth birthday.
Chapter Fifty-Two
Lacey
“Are you nervous, is that it?” my mother questions. She tosses the magazine she’s been pretending to read on the table and twists in her chair to face me. “And, don’t you dare tell me nothing is bothering you. I can see it all over your face.”
Feeling transparent, I look away from her. Either I’m losing my touch at hiding my feelings or I’ve been fooling myself into thinking everyone buys my bullshit.
“Is it because Blackie isn’t here?” she presses. “I know the last few months have been rough and every time you come here it’s worse--”
“I spoke to him,” I blurt, finally meeting her gaze. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, nearly reaching her hairline. “When?”
“About two weeks ago,” I reply.
I’ve been replaying those few moments we shared over the phone on a loop inside my head since he ended the call. Hearing his voice was just what I need to quiet my mind and restore my faith in us. It surprised me how much he sounded like the man I fell in love with and for those few minutes I believed he loved me. I could sense the change in him and noted every difference…every sign of growth…of recovery. Blackie was making strides in rehab and still called me. He wanted to hear my voice. That was something my maker couldn’t take from me.
Every word we uttered…mine.
Every tear we cried…mine.
All beautiful and all mine.
Feeling our child move inside of me…mine.
Sharing that moment with Blackie…mine.
All beautiful and all mine.
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. What did he say? How did he sound? Your father told me he’s doing great,” my mother rambles, pulling my attention back to her.
“I think he is,” I murmur. “He sounded well. It was strange to hear his voice at first, but we fell into a conversation easily. He asked for the baby and told me a little about his treatment and his counselor. Then I felt the baby kick for the first time,” I pause, smiling at the memory. “He made me put the phone to my stomach, and he started talking to her.”
“Oh my God,” she gasps. Her hand flies to her mouth as everyone in the waiting room turns to her. “Sorry,” she grimaces. “That was loud, wasn’t it?”
“And a bit overdramatic.”
She swats my shoulder playfully and inches closer.
“What happened next?”
That’s the part that stings the most and the reason my mask has slipped.
“He got weird after that and ended the call,” I reveal, leaving out the part where he didn’t tell me he loved me. Although, I deserved that after not telling him I loved him when he was in the hospital. Still, it hurts and leaves me questioning us.
“I haven’t heard from him since,” I add. “I was hoping he would call before today’s appointment. He doesn’t know we’re finding out the sex.”
“You can’t be mad at him for hanging up, Lacey,” she says.
I’m not mad at him but I’m curious as to why she thinks I shouldn’t be.
“And you can’t be mad at him for not calling either.”
Okay, so I’m a little mad about that. Especially since he asked if he could call me again before he hung up.
“Why is that?”
“Because you’re not in his shoes,” she points out. “What he’s doing isn’t easy. If it were, he would’ve done it a long time ago. He’s going to have his bad days and there are things he’s going to need to work out for himself. Things he might not want to share with you. You have to trust the process and remind yourself, it’s all for a good cause.”
She makes sense and I find myself wondering where her insight stems from.
“Okay, where is this coming from?”
“Your father and I were already separated when he decided to get help,” she reveals. “But I couldn’t turn my back on him. Our marriage might’ve been over, but I still loved him, and I wanted to see him well. I wanted to see him be the father he never got to be with Junior.”