“Rosie.” Archie takes my face in his hands. “I know he’s Connor’s dad, but the guy’s a total mooncalf; sorry, not sorry. He’s never deserved your time, your body, or your heart, but you gave him all of it anyway.”
“I just wanted someone to want me.” The words are fractured and whispered, and I hate that they hurt, the way they singe the air and leave it heavy and suffocating.
“I know you did, honey. But he left you with more insecurities than you started with, and I hate him for that. You’ve got a beautiful heart. You’re so kind, so smart, and so incredibly strong. He has a way of making you forget that. I don’t know Adam, but he seems to make you remember all those things about yourself.” Archie takes my hands, a gentle squeeze that always settles my racing thoughts. “Let him build you up. And in the meantime, let’s get you some toys so you can work on taking care of yourself.”
I slap his hands away. “I don’t need a dildo.”
“There are these clit suckers too.”
“Archie, I’m not buying toys for myself.”
He winks, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder as he starts putting the dishes away. “Okay, Rosie.”
“You’re not buying me toys either.”
Another wink. “Definitely not, Rosie.”
I jab a finger into his shoulder. “Stop saying my name.”
A sneaky smirk. “Sure thing, Ro.” His chuckle chases after me as I scoop up Connor’s diaper bag. “You’d be less grumpy if you got laid.”
“Mmm,” I grunt out, tossing the bag by the door before I join Connor on the living room floor, where he’s playing with his farm animals. “Are you ready to go to the park, baby?”
He picks up the small cow, thrusting it in my face. “Cow! Moooo !” The chicken is next, bouncing along my thigh. “Cluck-cluck, cluck-cluck!”
I tap on the green tractor. “And what’s this?”
“Trac-ta ! Brum-brum!”
“Hey, monkey.” Archie leans in the doorway. “We goin’ to the park?”
Connor leaps to his feet, tossing his animals in a basket before running toward Archie on wobbly legs. “Pak ! Pak !”
I throw my arms in the air. “Doesn’t care when I suggest it.”
“’Cause I’m cool Uncle Arch.” He scoops Connor up, setting him in the wagon and nudging my shoes toward me. “You’re just Mom.”
Just Mom is trying her hardest to be cool, brave Mom, which is why I’m in my bathing suit again today for my son, chasing him around the splash pad at the park a half hour later beneath the warm summer sun.
“I’m proud of you,” Archie tells me when we break for a snack. “You’re making big strides with the water lately.”
“Connor had the best time swimming with Adam yesterday. He kept jumping in, right into Adam’s arms. He was so happy. I went in too. All the way.”
Archie stares at me, brows hiked, lips parted.
“Okay, I clung to Adam, and he promised he wouldn’t drop me. It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, once I was in there, but I’d guess that has more to do with him.”
“Did you tell him? About—”
“That I almost drowned? Yeah.”
“And your parents?”
“I told him they passed away.”
“But you didn’t tell him the two were related?” he guesses. “You nearly drowning and your parents passing?”
I shake my head, shame creeping up my throat.
“Hey.” Archie squeezes my knee. “It’s okay. There’s no rush.”
“It’s just…what if I give him too much? Too soon? Then if it doesn’t work out, I’ve lost it all again. That sounds silly, I know, but—”
“It’s not silly, Rosie, but I do wish you weren’t always expecting the worst. I get it, though. Or I try to, at least.”
“Adam was in the foster system too,” I tell him quietly.
“Really? What are the chances? Something for you two to connect over.”
“Yeah, I thought so, too, but then…” I rub my neck, guilt making my throat tight. “I didn’t tell him I was in foster care. Our experiences were different. He was four, and he was adopted in under a year.”
Archie nods. “So you feel like, rather than connecting over a shared experience, they were way too different for Adam to possibly sympathize with you.”
I drop my face, ashamed. “How awful am I? Nobody is in the system for happy reasons. But when he talked about finding his family, I was just…so jealous. And I feel dirty for feeling that way, Arch. I’m an adult now. I should be over this. I’ve got a family of my own now. I have nothing to complain about.”
“Is that how that works? Your parents die, leaving you all alone in a big, scary world, you want nothing more than to find a family who’ll choose to love you, and when you don’t find that, you’re supposed to just grow up and get over it?” Archie shakes his head. “No, your experience definitely doesn’t diminish his, but neither does his diminish yours.”
“I should’ve told him then that I was in the system too,” I argue, “but I was so focused on how different our experiences were, how we couldn’t possibly connect because of those differences, how jealous I was, that I couldn’t share it.”
“Meeting someone where they’re at isn’t always about finding a way to relate to what they’ve gone through. He shared something and you listened, which is all he could really ask for. What’s going on in your head is your own business. Your feelings are valid and you need to process them, and look at you, doing it right now. You don’t need to punish yourself because you immediately made assumptions about someone else.”
It makes sense, all of it, and Archie’s always been this person for me, the one who hears my thoughts and validates all of them before helping me through the other side. It takes me a while to get there sometimes, that’s all.
“Hey.” He cups my face, forcing my eyes to his. “You spent a long time convincing yourself you weren’t lovable because nobody chose you. You wanted to be someone’s first choice, and you weren’t. But we aren’t for everyone. There’s always been something better waiting for you.” He points to Connor. “You’re that little boy’s first and only choice. And you’ll be someone else’s first choice when it comes to love too. Maybe it’ll be Adam, maybe it won’t. But what matters most, Rosie, is that you’re your own first choice. Love yourself for exactly who you are and where you’re at, mistakes, imperfections, and all. The people who are going to choose you will love all your pieces, not just some of them.”
“Come on. Just one quick glimpse at his Instagram.”
“Absolutely not.”
Marco shakes his phone at me, the same way he’s been doing for the last hour while trying to pry Adam’s last name out of me so he and Archie can snoop his profile. “Come on. Don’t you wanna see if he’s got any pictures of his exes?”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.” The last thing I want to do is compare myself to any woman he’s dated in the past. I work hard to be happy with the way I look, and it’s not always easy. Comparison is the thief of joy.