by Kacey Shea
I don’t know what the future looks like, but I can’t imagine living on another continent from my child. My life is here. Hers is there. Fuck. I need to research work visas.
But those are worries for later.
Today is about staying present and giving these two people my full attention.
“Mama! Go! Up! Up!” Matty laughs and commands Alicia to hold him higher so his little arms can reach up to the top of the current exhibit we’ve been at for a good twenty minutes. A raceway with ramps connects to a climbing structure where the kids can send little wooden cars down to race each other. Of course, Matthew prefers the ramp he can’t quite reach, so Alicia is on the play structure with him while I fetch the toy cars and hand them up.
Thankfully, the museum is pretty dead. Most of the families cleared out around lunchtime but because Matthew was having so much fun we decided to stay a little longer. After a quick bite from the snack bar he was recharged and ready to go, but his lack of a nap is starting to show.
“Mama, go!” he shouts, more impatient with his demand.
“We’re going. We’re going,” she says, hoisting him up so he can drop a truck onto the ramp.
He squeals, his laughter infectious, cheering as it rolls to a stop by my feet.
I pick it up and walk back over, handing it off to his greedy little hands. “He could do this all day.” I laugh.
“Hours.” She nods, her smile a mix of pride and exhaustion. “Repetition is what this age is all about.”
“Mama! Go!” This time his scream is angry and his foot stomps when she doesn’t move to his demands.
She scoops him up and meets my gaze over his head. “I think we better wrap this up before he has a total meltdown.”
“Mama! Go!” He waves the wooden truck as if he’d like to chuck it over the edge.
“It might be too late for that.” She winces, catching his fist and the toy in her hand to draw his gaze to hers. “Matthew. This is the last one. One more time. Then we have to go.”
His face scrunches up, his features twisting with displeasure. “No. No go!”
“Hey, bud. How about we take a ride to go see more toys? You wanna take a ride?”
“Mo’ toys?” He blinks, the tension leaving his body at the idea. “Mo’ toys now?”
I have to bite back my laughter. The way he says things is too cute. “Yeah!” I nod, holding my hands out. “Let’s go find more toys and take a ride!”
He doesn’t even glance at Alicia, the truck she confiscated already forgotten as he scrambles down out of her arms and practically leaps into mine. There’s something about it. The total trust. The adoration in his wide eyes. His innocence. I’ve only known him a short time, but already this boy has my heart.
“Come on.” I lift him over my head and onto my shoulders. “Let’s go find more toys.”
“You better not be making empty promises,” Alicia teases, though there’s a bite to her words. She climbs down from the play structure, taking my hand a short moment for balance. Awareness of her skin on mine zings through my body.
I’ve always found her attractive, but after today, watching her care for our son, witnessing how patient and joyful she is with him—it stirs memories from the summer we shared. It’s a magnetism simmering just below the surface that we’re both stepping around. If I wasn’t with Julia, I probably would act on it, which only adds to the confusion between us. What are we to each other? Over time will this desire fade, or will it only grow stronger?
I think I know the answer, and frankly it doesn’t scare me as much as it should.
As we walk through the museum, I focus on clearing ceiling heights with Matthew on my shoulders. I hold on to him tightly, but as soon as he notices us walking toward the exit, he shares his thoughts on our direction.
“No go. No. Mo’ toys!”
Alicia sighs. “We’ll be lucky if we make it out of here without a full-blown tantrum.”
“He’s pretty easygoing most of the time, though?” I ask, making the assumption on his personality today. He’s busy. Curious. The kid has buckets of energy. But he’s not rude or territorial like some of the other kids we came across.
“Oh, yeah.” She nods. “But going on no nap and lots of play, it’s a matter of when, not if.”
“Then I guess I’ll have to keep my word.” I stop outside the gift shop doors, and slide Matthew off my shoulders. “Let’s go find a toy, okay?” I say before setting him on his feet. He takes off running to the first display—a table of trains.
“You’re going to spoil him, aren’t you?” she asks, but she doesn’t seem terribly upset. If anything, more amused.
“I have a few years to make up for.” The second the words leave my lips, I regret them.
Alicia’s smile falters and she turns away, tucking her chin so I can’t see her face.
“Alicia.” I want to explain. I didn’t mean to make her feel bad, not after this perfect day. But I can’t because Matthew races away from the trains, over to a wall of stuffed animals, and begins pulling them down like it’s an Olympic sport.
“I’ll meet you outside,” she says without a backward glance, then pushes out of the store.
“Hey, buddy.” I make my way to Matthew, scoop him up, and balance him on my hip as I return the toys to their spot on the shelf. “How about we find one toy to take home? Only one. That sound good?”
“Good.” He nods. “Yes.”
I have no idea whether he understands, but his quick agreement brings a smile to my lips. We walk through the aisles and he entertains me by allowing me to hold him as we discuss a few options. Of course, the conversation is one-sided. Or rather, it is until we find our winner.
“Truck! Me!” he shouts, pointing at the mini monster truck. It’s lifted, with a tailgate that opens and shuts. I can already picture him playing with it in the dirt.
“You want this?” I pick it up and hand it to him.
His smile is wide and his little fingers curl around the toy as he hugs it to his chest.
It’s then I notice a mini fire truck tucked back on the same shelf. “Oh! Look at this.” I pull it out, pressing the button to make the lights flash and the siren sound. “Do you want this truck instead?”
Matthew hugs his monster truck tighter. Ouch. Not a fan of firefighters. That stings a little.
I set the red engine down and ruffle his hair. “That’s okay. We’ll work on you. The real rigs are more impressive anyway.” After I pay for the toy, we meet Alicia outside by my truck. I unlock the doors, and while I open the door to buckle Matthew in his seat, she settles into the passenger seat.
She doesn’t appear upset, but the fact she’s not said a word makes me feel as though I fucked up. I want to make it better but I don’t know how. I’m not entirely sure I’ve done anything wrong.
It takes less than two minutes into the drive before Matthew passes out from exhaustion. I nod at the rear mirror. “That didn’t take long.”
Alicia turns to look back, a soft laugh leaving her lips. “He always falls asleep in the car. Trains too.”
“I was like that when I was his age,” I say, reminded of stories my dad would tell.
Alicia is quiet, staring out her window so I can’t quite read her face.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I ask.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Hey.” I reach out and touch her arm. “Only truths, remember?” It’s something we promised a long time ago, and yes, she doesn’t owe me anything, but I want an open and honest relationship with the mother of my child. We both have work to do to rebuild that trust.
“You never came after me,” she whispers.
The accusation hits worse than an actual punch to the gut. “You told me not to.”
She turns in her seat, meeting my gaze at the next stop light. “I never expected you to listen.”
Damn. “That’s not fair.”
“It’s not. You’re right.” Her brows furrow
and she blows out a shaky breath. “I thought if you stayed sober, you’d want to be with me, that you’d find a way to show me.”
“Why did you assume I wasn’t?” It hurts because she never even gave me a chance. Someone honks their horn, and I wince at my distracted state before hitting the gas to rejoin the traffic. This isn’t the best time to have a conversation, but I’m worried she won’t want to if I wait. “So, you expected me to fail?”
“No, that’s not it. Maybe a little.” She rubs at her temples. “I’m sorry, okay. I should have asked more questions after I left, but whenever I checked in with Jill or Callie and your name came up, it seemed things were still rough for you.”
I think of her friends. How hurt they were when she stopped calling and answering their texts. “You broke their hearts too, you know?”
“I know.”
“That was it for me, you know? I took that distance as a sign that you were done with all of us. That you had this new, exciting life in London and you wanted to move on. That maybe I built up our summer in my mind. That our time together meant more to me than it did to you.” My pulse races. My heart beats as though it’s about to come out of my chest, but I keep my tone even and voice low because the last thing I want to do is wake Matthew. “I get it. You never wanted to be with someone like me. I know the stats aren’t on our side.”
The silence stretches between us, the minutes passing painfully slow with each mile. Our truths settle like dust after an explosion. The realization that her absence for the last three years was all for nothing.
“I left a piece of my soul when I decided to leave,” she says softly as we pull onto her parents’ drive.
“Because this is your home?”
She waits until I pull to a stop. “Because I left it with you.”
I swallow hard, glancing in the rearview mirror at our sleeping child. “And you took a piece of me with you.”
Her sigh fills up the cab, sucking away the air. “I don’t know what to do here.”
“That makes two of us.” I meet her gaze, and the pain I find reflects my own. “He’s a really great kid.” I can only imagine how hard today was for her. He might have half my DNA but she’s been his sole parent for his entire life. I don’t know where we go from here. Or how I fit into the picture. I only know I want the opportunity to be his father—the present, loving, affectionate parent I never had.
“We have a lot to figure out.” She glances down at her lap.
“Yeah.”
“I promise we’ll make this work. I am not interested in keeping him from knowing you. That’s never what this was about.”
It was about survival. About preservation. Staying sober and protecting Matthew. I get that now, but it still hurts. The idea of them going back to London causes physical tightness in my chest. We have some hard conversations ahead. But they’re necessary, and for now I hold on to the hope that we might just be able to figure this out.
21
Alicia
I made a mistake.
Only, it’s not coming back to my hometown. No, it was leaving in the first place. It was staying away so long. It was keeping Chase from our son.
Watching him today with Matthew, it broke my heart. Because he’s a great dad. Of course he is. He’s attentive, fun, and kind. The bond between them was as instant as my regret. I don’t know how Chase doesn’t hate me. I worry one day when Matty is old enough to learn the truth, he’ll hate me too.
Chase glances in the back seat where Matthew is still passed out. “Will he stay asleep?”
“Yeah.” I hop out of my door, then pull open the back to get Matthew. I peel his chubby little fingers from where they’re still holding tight to the toy truck. “Can you bring in the car seat for me?”
“Of course.” Chase gets out and walks around the front of the truck to meet me on my side.
I remove Matthew from his restraints and lift him into my arms. He’s so exhausted, he doesn’t even open his eyes in the transition. Chase reaches out, steadying my arm as I get down from the truck. His touch sends a quiver of awareness throughout my body, the way it has all day. Any time he stood close, or stared too long, it lit up. I try to ignore the attraction. He’s unavailable. We aren’t meant to be together. But the connection we share is there—at least for me—and it doesn’t give a flying fuck that he’s with someone else. Which makes me a horrible person.
I thought maybe today would provide some closure. Be the affirmation I need to remember why I left in the first place. But no. If anything, it did the opposite.
My footsteps may be slow and measured as I make my way to the front door, but my pulse is racing. My heart feels as if it’s been split open. But I’m too worn down to pretend it’s not. “I love you, sweet boy,” I whisper against Matty’s cheek. “I’m sorry.” For keeping you from your dad. For waiting so long to come back home.
“Where do you want this?” Chase says softly, stepping around us to open the door.
“Just there is fine.” I point to the floor inside the entry. I let my purse fall to the floor on top of the car seat once Chase sets it down.
“Okay, well.” He slides his hands into his pockets. He doesn’t move to leave and I can’t tell whether it’s because he wants to stay, or because he thinks he should.
I could invite him in. Show him more of my ugly secrets. Mom’s probably passed out around here somewhere, and Daddy, well, he’s stuck in his bed. But I reach for the easy out. “I’ll call you.” I force a bright smile onto my lips. I doubt it’s convincing but Chase doesn’t call me out.
“Okay, yeah.” He nods, his gaze bouncing from my face to Matthew’s. “Thank you. For today. It was . . . everything.”
My heart cracks a little with those words. I nod because I can’t say anything to change the past. Watching as Chase turns and walks out the door, regret settles heavy on my chest, almost too much to bear.
Instead of heading for the stairs, I walk down the hallway toward my dad’s room. Outside the door I pause to brush the locks from Matthew’s face, taking in the soft lines of his cheeks, his sun-kissed skin, the even breaths that leave his mouth.
I should have done this the day we landed. I shouldn’t have let fear lead, because it only added heartache to an already impossible situation. But I’m done with that.
Without overthinking, I carry Matthew into my dad’s room, knocking softly as we push inside. “Hey,” I whisper.
Theresa lifts her hand in greeting, a smile playing on her lips at the sight of my sleeping boy. She’s changing out my father’s IV, and makes it look easy. It probably is for her, she’s done it countless times.
I walk to the foot of the bed. “How is he today?”
“His congestion isn’t improving,” she says matter of factly. “His doctor is ordering X-rays to make sure his lungs stay clear.”
“Is that something we should worry about?” Alarm kicks up my pulse.
“Not yet.” Theresa jots a few notes onto the tablet by my father’s bed. He’s resting, and I don’t want to wake him, especially because sometimes he gets so agitated. “But we are monitoring any changes. I promise.”
My appreciation grows for this woman and the other nurses who provide him with the best of care. “Thank you.”
“Would you like some time alone?” She offers a kind smile. It’s almost enough to make me cry.
“Yeah.” I nod, moving closer. “I want my dad to meet his grandson.”
“Here.” She moves one of the chairs closer to the bed and motions for me to come sit. Theresa leaves the room quietly, the door clicking shut with her exit.
I settle into the seat, grounded by my son’s steady breaths, and reach for my father’s hand. He probably can’t hear me. His eyes are closed. My words are wasted. But a part of me wants for this moment to have some semblance of normalcy. “Daddy?” I squeeze his hand. “Daddy, I want you to meet the most important person in my life.”
Gently, I lift his hand and rest it on Matth
ew’s back. We’re connected by touch, the three living generations of Martins. I bet my father never imagined it’d be his daughter passing on the family name. The thought brings a somber smile to my lips. I’m incredibly thankful for this moment, but it’s tainted by sorrow too.
“This is your grandson.” I inhale a shaky breath in a vain attempt to calm the storm of emotion inside my chest. “I hope he gets all the good pieces of me, and you, too. I hope I can raise him to be a good man. But I wish I had your help.” My eyes sting and tears threaten to fall. “I’m sorry I didn’t come home sooner. I’m sorry for so many things. For not spending more time with you. For all the things I’ve done wrong.” Tears leak from the corners of my eyes and stream down my cheek. “I hope you know how much I love you. How much I miss you.” My voice cracks, a sob breaking free.
My father coughs, the throaty rough sound startling. His eyelids fly open but he doesn’t look around or make eye contact. Instead, he stares at the wall, coughing again, this time harder.
Matthew stirs, his body warm against my chest. His eyes blink open, disoriented as he pulls himself upright on my lap. He rubs the sleep from his face, smiling when our eyes meet. “Mama.”
“Yeah.” I smile through my tears and the lump in my throat. “I’m here.” I move my father’s hand back onto the bed.
Matthew’s gaze follows my movement. “Papa.” His eyes widen with recognition. “Papa!”
“Yes.” More tears fall, but they’re happy ones. Because my son recognizes his grandpa. We video chat with Dad’s nurses, but it’s so one-sided and I never imagined he’d be so happy.
“Papa! Papa, hi!” Matthew leans off of my lap, trying to catch his grandpa’s attention. “Papa. Hi, Papa.” Each time he repeats the words it opens up a fresh wave of sadness inside me. Because my dad can’t acknowledge or greet his own grandson.
