No.
Not someone.
With him.
The whole experience has made me irrationally pine for Rosario. Both as my lover and as her father.
The loss aches a little more knowing that he would probably be an amazing dad. He would dote on her and love her the way she deserves.
And then there’s Chad. He showed up just as I passed the twelve-week mark and my baby bump was clearly visible. He didn't even hiccup at the fact that I was pregnant with another man's baby, which really should be applauded, but honestly, it just made me hate him even more.
I know he’s got a list of transgressions a mile long, but he was almost ambivalent about it all, and maybe it was because he had more difficulty connecting with a baby that was not physically in our arms yet. But something told me he had been kicked to the curb, and he’s now scared to be alone.
Or maybe he’s trying to pay penance for good Karma. Either way, I’m not here for it. He buys groceries, helps me clean up, but I don’t let him go anywhere near Alessia.
He doesn’t touch her, bottle feed her, or put her to bed. She is one hundred and ten percent my responsibility, and something in the back of my mind tells me that Rosario wouldn’t appreciate another man attending to his child before he’d even been given a chance to meet her. Or even after that. And for an unexplainable reason, I want to respect what I think Rosario’s wishes would be.
It makes no difference to my rationalizing that he doesn’t even know about Alessia. Because my gut tells me one day he will. It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even next week.
But if the universe could align once, I truly believe it could do it again.
Feeling brave, I wait for Alessia’s eyes to close, and with my cell in my hand, I walk out of the room and pull up the number I managed to wrangle off Liza.
I wait for the ring, but like all the other times I’ve tried, it never comes; however, instead of the recording letting me know the phone is off and the mailbox is full, the recording now informs me that this number is completely out of operation.
Crestfallen and a little defeated, I sigh into an empty house.
I didn’t really anticipate ever being a single mom, or having a one-night stand in the first place. And while I don’t necessarily have regrets about Alessia, I realize with that last phone call, I probably should have done things differently.
I probably shouldn’t have run at the crack of dawn.
Maybe I should have run but still left him my number.
Maybe we should’ve made actual plans before falling asleep, or I at least should’ve waited for him to wake up.
I should’ve given him the opportunity to have a say.
I should’ve and I could’ve and I would’ve.
So many things that I should’ve done, but now it all feels too late.
Now I have this beautiful little girl, who is nothing short of perfect with her ten fingers and ten toes and rosy red cheeks, and I don't know how to get to him.
It’s this moment that Chad walks through the door, and the sight of him turns my stomach.
What am I doing?
My daughter has a father. Correction. Our daughter has a father, and she needs her father.
Not this man. Not a replacement. Not a half-assed version of the dad I know Rosario could be.
“Hey,” Chad greets me cautiously “Are you okay?”
I shake my head at him. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Six
Rosario
When you’re always on the move, you don’t think you need anything extravagant to survive. You teach yourself how to sleep anywhere and know that everyone around you couldn’t care less when the last time you showered was.
But as I wake up after a full night’s sleep for the sixth week in a row in my own bed, I know it’s one of the many lies we tell ourselves to survive that lonely military life.
It’s been a long and agonizing ten months. Originally, I was only supposed to be gone for six, but an operation gone wrong added another four months that I wasn’t mentally prepared for.
Being a Marine wasn’t something I ever had second thoughts about. I had felt the need to serve my country for as long as I could remember, and when I was old enough to do so, there was absolutely nothing that could stop me.
What I didn’t anticipate was all the things I would have to choose between and all the things I would lose along the way.
Including my marriage.
While in hindsight I can see my military life wasn’t the sole reason it ended, it still played a very big part. Lately, I found myself both resenting it and loving the very thing that defined me. Hating the way it had stolen my wife, but grateful when it became my only consistent companion after she was gone.
The vibration of my phone against my wooden nightstand interrupts my thoughts. Reaching for it, I bring the screen closer to my face, not recognizing the number in front of me. Thanks to an accident overseas, I spent the majority of my time there without a cell phone and only able to contact my family through email.
It wasn’t too much of a hassle considering there’s usually no service for your cell anyway, and the cost to call home is only worth it in an emergency. When on base, we often get allocated Wi-Fi hours, and thankfully that allowed me to tell my parents and siblings that I was safe for the majority of the time.
But since being back home, my usual struggle with being readily available for people to contact me all the time has been amplified by the need for a new phone and distribution of my new number. The longer I’m away, the harder I always find it to connect back to my life at home. It’s something civilians have a hard time understanding, namely my family.
The phone keeps ringing, so I swipe at the screen and bring it to my ear.
“Hello,” I answer groggily.
“You’re still asleep?” Thankfully, I recognize my mother’s voice immediately and don’t have to play any guessing games about who’s on the other side of the line. “I was hoping you could come over for dinner this weekend. The whole family is coming.”
I’ll forever wonder why my mother calls to “invite” me, when the only option I have unless I’m away is to attend.
“Yeah, Ma. It should be fine.”
“What do you mean? Is it a yes or a no, Rio?”
“No,” I tease.
“So, I’ll see you Sunday for lunch then?”
A sleep infused chuckle leaves my mouth. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Okay, good. Now tell me how you’re doing. What’s new?”
I indulge my mother in conversation, talking about what’s been going on while I’ve been gone while she babbles on about setting me up with some good Italian girls.
“I’m not interested, Mom,” I argue, while simultaneously putting my mother on speakerphone and tapping away at my phone till I open the file I’m looking for.
I scroll through the photos that have graced my inbox for the last ten months and stare at the only woman I’ve been interested in since my ex-wife.
Flicking through the photos Liza sent me of Blake and me for the millionth time and wondering why the fuck she fled from the room before either of us had the chance to talk. Before we even had the chance to entertain the idea of making plans.
It’s pathetic and borderline obsessive, but that night, and the memory of being inside her, was one of the only things I clung to when I was away. I haven’t been able to shake off how strong the connection was between us.