Honest Love

by Lauren K. McKellar

  “Hey, baby girl.” I shoved him out of the way, an easy smile on my face. “You’re all right. This is Uncle Mack. He won’t hurt you. Just don’t let him touch your face with those fingers, yeah? Who knows where they’ve been.”

  “Get out of it.” He pushed me back, and I balanced myself with one hand on the pram. “Let’s go grab some lunch.”

  “Done.” I stood and followed him as we walked down the promenade next to the water.

  It was a gorgeous day—the sun was shining, and people were everywhere.

  Babies were everywhere.

  And I didn’t know if they’d always been around me, if they’d been out and about in the heart of the city all this time, but now it was like I saw them, and their mothers saw me—but they didn’t recognise me. They didn’t see the victim from that day.

  Instead, they saw a father. Someone in a situation just like theirs. We nodded, silent mutual nods of understanding, respect, and I liked it. I liked that there didn’t seem to be any pity in their glances. That for once, they didn’t seem to be thinking poor Cameron but instead there’s the father of a pretty cute child. And I had to agree with them on that.

  “Pub okay?” Mack broke me from my thoughts, nodding to the beer garden where we’d spent so many Sunday lunchtimes before.

  I glanced at Piper. It was so noisy in there. Music pumped from speakers near the garden, and people squeezed past each other to get to the bar, the bathroom, other people.

  “Sure,” I hedged, my eyes falling on a small restaurant a few doors down. A waitress hovered near the door, looking as if she could fall off her four-inch heels and onto the pavement at any minute. Aside from her, the place appeared empty. “Or maybe we should try that place. Looks good.”

  “Looks like a ghost town.” Mack followed my gaze. “I’m sure there’s a reason no one’s in there, bro. Bad food.”

  “Or maybe great food, and it’s new,” I said, since I couldn’t remember ever seeing it before. Or maybe I’d just never noticed.

  “Whatever you want.” Mack gestured for me to walk first. “Lead the way.”

  The waitress seated us, and from the look on her face when we walked in, we may have been her first customers of the week. She handed us some menus and left, and I pulled out a chair, pushing Piper’s pram up to the table.

  “Are you gonna get a high chair for that?” Mack nodded toward her.

  “Piper.” I frowned. “Her name is Piper.”

  “I know, man. Take it easy.” Mack laughed.

  Loosen up. He didn’t mean anything by it. “She doesn’t need a high chair. She’s prefers being in her pram, most of the time.”

  The waitress came back and we ordered some drinks: a water for me and a beer for Mack. He raised his eyebrows, but didn’t comment on my drink choice, and when the waitress left us alone, he asked, “So how is it? Tell me everything about being a father.”

  “Well …” I paused. “It’s …”

  Hard.

  Tiring.

  Amazing.

  It was goddamn amazing.

  “It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” I surprised myself with the words. There was nothing but truth in them. “Honestly, man. It’s tough, but I … I really enjoy it.”

  “Really?” As Mack widened his eyes, a beer was placed in front of him, and he took a thirsty sip. “Wow. That’s great. Are you going to try see her more often when Giselle’s out then?”

  I baulked. When Giselle’s out.

  It was something I knew was going to happen, but hadn’t wanted to face. Something that seemed like it would occur so far in the future, but as I mentally logged the date I realised that I was more than a third of the way through my days spent as a full-time dad, and I hated that it was time I’d never get back. I hated that I’d spent the first week woodenly going through the motions, trying so hard not to care for Piper when it was coming so naturally to me now.

  And I wondered how in hell I was going to let her go when Giselle was released.

  “I … I guess so, yeah,” I stammered out.

  “How’s that gonna work?” Mack nodded to a woman in a skin-tight red dress as she walked past. She smiled appreciatively. “You head out west every second weekend and take the kid back to your apartment?”

  “Well, I guess.” God, I’d have to do so much work to it. Glass coffee tables, push-open drawers and cabinets … it’d all have to go.

  “Or d’you need me to talk to my olds about setting up a more permanent arrangement with their rental?” Mack slapped the table as he laughed. My water slipped over the lip of the glass. “Can you imagine? You living in a small town like that …” His laughter died as he shook his head at me. “You’re not laughing.”

  “I … no. I’m not.” Why wasn’t I laughing? I loved the city. I loved living here, in an apartment, not a three-bedder with a lawn in the middle of suburbia. I loved going downstairs at ten o’clock at night and having a variety of places to go out, grab a drink, get a meal. I loved the noise of cars, of people, of life instead of the quiet and steady hum of the ocean or lonely, still silence.

  Didn’t I?

  “Let’s talk about something else.” I took Piper’s bottle from the dad bag and prepped it. “How’s work?”

  “Good, bro. Real good,” Mack launched into a story about Davo taking on too much work, and all the overtime he’d had to do, and I stared at the little girl drinking away from her bottle, holding it high with both hands.

  When Giselle’s back. Damnit, what would I do then?

  Come down and see Piper whenever I could, obviously. And maybe I could sell the apartment. Get something else with a separate room for Piper, a space of her own. Sure, she wouldn’t mind what it looked like now, but when she was bigger, she’d probably want to decorate it with pink. Or blue. Who knew what she’d like? At the moment, her favourite toys were a stuffed unicorn and my sunglasses.

  As if she knew what I was thinking, she pulled her bottle from her mouth and looked up at me, her eyes going straight to the glasses pushed on my head.

  She smiled.

  She goddamn smiled.

  And it hit me, right in the chest. I smiled back, staring into those beautiful eyes, and she was still smiling, and I was still smiling, and damn, but it felt right. It felt good. It felt like everything coming together.

  “Hello? Earth to Cameron?” Mack waved a hand in between Piper and me, and I pulled back, shaking my head.

  “Sorry, man. What’s up?”

  He narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down. “I could ask the same thing. You passed on the pub. The whole walk here, you’ve been making eyes at other babies as if you’re in some secret mummy club. And now I’ve told you about a huge restructure at work and you’re too busy makin’ eyes at your baby to care.”

  “I’m sorry. What’s happening? Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. It’s just a few shift cuts, that’s all. But this isn’t about me. This is about you.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder, looking me in the eyes. There were years of friendship in that gaze—years of being there for each other through thick and thin. “Are you okay?”

  “I am.” I paused, looking at Piper again. Straight away, she pulled the bottle down and smiled. I smiled back. “I’m fine. Just … different. Things with me are different.”

  And for the first time since this whole situation started, I was realising that different might not be such a bad thing after all.

  Chapter 16

  The conversation with Mack was on my mind as I pulled into the drive at the little beach shack, taking a sleeping Piper and putting her in her crib. I had to change my life. I needed things to be different, but how? How did you juggle being a parent who only got to see your child half of the time?

  And the thing was, I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to ask Everly what she thought I should do, if she had an opinion on it all.

  I sunk down onto the couch, pausing with my thumb in mid-air. Should I ask her advice as me
or as Giselle?

  Me, I decided, my thumb landing on the text message icon. Honesty was important to her. I should put my masquerading-as-Giselle days to bed.

  Cameron: How’s the garden?

  She didn’t reply right away, so I turned on the TV, settling on some reality television show where a group of guys fought for the attention of one woman. But my focus wasn’t on who got the rose. Instead, I found myself scrolling through photos I’d taken ever since the day I picked Piper up. Piper. Piper playing. Piper smiling. Piper looking sad. Thoughtful. Somehow, I’d captured it all, and I wondered when I stopped treating her as a chore and when she became a child. My child.

  An hour later and I still didn’t have a reply from Everly, so I decided to send her a message from Giselle. Purely because I wanted her professional opinion.

  Giselle: Hey, are you around?

  Immediately, dots bounced across the screen as she typed out a reply.

  Everly: Sure. What’s up?

  Wow. Well, that sure made things clear. She really was avoiding me.

  Maybe my confession at the park had been too much. She’d seemed okay at the time, but maybe she wasn’t ready to hear all those stories about my past. Perhaps now that she knew I hadn’t planned for Piper in my life, she didn’t want me to be in hers. All she’d wanted was a child, and I’d stumbled into parenthood on a whiskey and a promise.

  Still, I typed out my question. It was like I was addicted. I needed her in my life.

  Giselle: I was wondering if you had any thoughts on custody arrangements with kids. Do you think spending time split between two parents is bad for a child’s sense of stability?

  More dots bounced across the screen, and I pictured her, her brow furrowed in concentration as she bit that plump bottom lip of hers. That lip I kissed a little more than a week ago. That sweet taste of berries and mint in my mouth.

  I wanted to kiss her again.

  I hated that I wanted to kiss her again.

  It’s not going to happen, I told myself. Clearly, she was avoiding me. And why wouldn’t she? Kiss a girl. Introduce her to your father while he’s having an episode. Confess how much you still love your dead wife, and tell her that you had a child born from one night of pain.

  I scrubbed a hand over my jaw. What was I thinking? That wasn’t just fast—that was the sort of speed Superman would need to blink twice to follow.

  I needed to fix things with her. Make things right.

  The problem was, I didn’t know what “right” was. Here I was, trying to help my father make sense of life in the present when I couldn’t even seem to do so myself.

  My phone buzzed with a preview of a new message.

  Wayne: Hey, babe. You got a new FB account?

  I frowned. Must have been one of Giselle’s friends.

  I didn’t click through and open the message. Figured it was better leaving it marked as unread. Who Giselle spoke to and what she did in her own time was entirely up to her.

  I really should close the account down. I’d gotten through the first hard part of getting used to life with Piper. Any problems I had now, I could usually find solutions for on Google and take a logical guess as to which answer seemed right.

  Except Everly.

  She remained a mystery I just couldn’t unravel.

  My phone buzzed with another message, and this time, I clicked through.

  Everly: I know it’s hard when you’re trying to work custody out, but you love your little girl. I can tell from the way you research, and ask questions in the group like you do. I think that with the right parents, both committed to a good life for the child, split custody can work really well. You want to be in your baby’s life—you deserve to be in her life. As long as her father is on side, I don’t see it being a problem at all.

  Even though she didn’t know it was me, even though she was clueless as to my real identity, her words sent warmth buoying through my chest. Damn it, I wanted to be a good parent. I wanted to be someone Piper could count on, who’d take care of her no matter the circumstance.

  Because I didn’t know when, but at some point during this crazy roller-coaster, at some point after I took her under my care, I discovered that there was more to this. More to the everyday. More to life.

  I wanted to be there for Piper.

  I wanted to be there for Everly.

  Chapter 17

  The gardens were still. Quiet. Peaceful.

  The complete opposite of the wild and wondrous ocean we left this morning when I took Piper on this adventure.

  Eight days after Dad’s episode, and I knew I had to go back soon, but first, I needed something to calm my mind. I needed something to soothe my soul.

  I needed something to entertain Piper.

  And that was why I squatted on a bridge, my arms either side of Piper as she clung to a rail, staring wide-eyed at the fishes in the water below.

  I’d discovered it in one of my many Google searches—things to do with your less-than-one-year-old child. Apparently, they loved fish and aquariums.

  Only, there weren’t any aquariums nearby, so I took her to the next best thing.

  “And we throw the fish food into the water.” I took a handful of grey pellets from the paper bag I’d bought at reception and scattered them into the water below. Tens of hungry Koi surged to the surface, colourful, slimy bodies muscling each other out of the way as they vied for their prize.

  The ducks seemed to like it too. Two speed-swam from the reeds in the distance, carving a path through the Koi who give way to their beaks and webbed feet.

  “And here come the ducks, hungry for some fish food,” I narrated for Piper, since that was what all the websites told you to do. Speak to the baby. It’d help with speech development. Even though Piper seemed light years away from any real words. She could gurgle, but that was about it.

  Piper watched, entranced, then looked at me open-mouthed. “Gah,” she said, pointing at the birds, then looking back up at me. “Gah.”

  “Duck!” Holy shit. Did she just …? “Duck.” I pointed to the bird.

  “Gah.”

  She said duck. She flipping said duck! “Duck, yes. That’s right. You’re so clever. Duck.”

  “Gah,” she said in this cute-as-shit, matter-of-fact tone, and I swept her up in my arms, pressing her to my chest as I plastered a kiss to her forehead. “Duck, duck, duck, duck.” I laughed, rolling to my back. She squealed with delight, and I held her high above my head. “Duck.”

  “Gah!”

  “Duck!”

  I couldn’t stop laughing. Couldn’t stop smiling. She said duck, damn it, or near close enough, and, hell, yeah. This was awesome. This feeling—it was better than anything I’d ever experienced. Better than that time Mack and I went to Europe, eating foreign delicacies and meeting foreign women.

  This was better than—

  Bella.

  But I didn’t want to chase the thought away with images of my wife. I didn’t want to wallow in misery, throwing myself into sadness just because it was where I felt I belonged. Just because I felt I had some sick penance to pay for surviving, for being in the right place at the right time.

  And I didn’t know if it was Piper, or Everly, or perhaps this whole crazy situation that’d helped me get there, but there I was, and damn it, I was okay with that.

  “Come on.” I rolled back to sitting and shuffled to my feet. A group of tourists on the other side of the lake stared at me, talking and laughing behind their hands, and I gave a wave as I hoisted Piper higher on my hip. They erupted into a sea of giggles, and their mirth was infectious because I started laughing, too. This day—it was perfect. Everything about it was so perfect.

  So perfect that I just wanted to share it with someone.

  Someone who cared.

  Someone like Everly.

  Of course, I didn’t go to Everly’s place.

  I couldn’t. Not when she’d so clearly backed away from me.

  And even though I wa
nted to start another letter to Bella, to tell her about this life-changing moment, something about that didn’t feel right eithers.

  Instead, I went to visit Giselle.

  Just like last time, I found a park with ease in the lot outside the prison. It seemed as if not too many people spent their Sundays visiting felons, family or no.

  The woman at the reception desk slid the form across to me, and I filled it in while Piper clung to my chest, her eyes wide as she took in the thick walls, the lack of light. I wanted to shield her from it. I wanted to take her away from this place and never let her return, but I knew it wasn’t my decision to make. As much as I might hate what she’d done, what she’d put this child through, Giselle was still Piper’s mother.

  And if I wanted to stand any chance of keeping Piper around when Giselle got out, I had to respect that.

  We were escorted to the visiting room, where four other inmates were meeting with their loved ones. I stood by a table in the corner, waiting for Giselle to enter.

  Finally, she did. Her eyes were cool, her expression fierce as she was led into the room, looking around at the visitors, the other inmates, like she was expecting judgment.

  Then she saw us.

  The look that took over her face when her eyes landed on Piper—it was like a child at Christmas. She flew across the room, knocking a chair in her path. She grabbed her daughter straight from my arms and jerked her close to her chest. Her eyes closed, her head resting against Piper’s, and her shoulders shook as emotion took the stiff-lipped, stoic woman and ripped her in two.

  I pulled out a chair, settling down into the hard metal, and watched this moment between the two of them. It was as if finally, I got it. I got now why she was like this. Why she was so over-the-top for this little person. I got it all.

  I just didn’t get why she hadn’t told me the truth about Piper before she needed me to act as a full-time carer. And I didn’t get why she’d risk all that love on one stupid drug deal.