by Vivien Vale
“Oh, what I wanted to ask, was...”
Daniel slows to a stop at a red light, and looks at me attentively.
“...what’s the reason you think we’re having dinner tonight?”
The light turns green, and the taxi behind us starts honking immediately, but Daniel keeps his attentive face right on me.
Although―now he has that big, unapologetic grin again.
“Because we’re celebrating.”
“Celebrating what?”
“Celebrating our future. Together.”
“Together? As parents?”
“Of course!”
Daniel finally drives through the light, and I feel almost weightless with elation, like the seatbelt’s the only thing holding me in place.
I do know that, but I just needed to hear it again from Daniel.
The whole damn car feels feather-light, as if we’re not even moving, even though I can see that we’re coasting downtown along Varick Street.
I start flushing with excitement—not necessarily that kind of excitement, not this time, but overall excitement with things to come.
I shake my head slowly, unable to believe it.
Daniel turns quickly and effortlessly onto Worth. He looks at me, shaking my head, and I fully expect him to laugh some more.
“It’s hard to describe, but I feel it, too,” he says sincerely. “That’s just one reason I know we’re on the right path.”
If the seatbelt weren’t fastened and if Daniel’s moonroof was open, I would float off into the stratosphere for sure.
The car glides on air to the curb, where a valet is already waiting for us.
“How are doing tonight, sir?” I hear the valet ask while I start opening the door.
Somehow, Daniel transports himself to just outside the passenger door, and he finishes the job of opening the door as I step out onto the street.
I hear animated but hushed talking behind me. People are spotting Daniel, wondering who he’s out with. I ignore it, letting it blend into the background.
If Daniel’s affected by the nearby gossip hounds, he’s not showing it. His eyes stay right on me, and they stay there as we walk into Atera and sit down at our table, and even as Daniel orders the Krug Cuvee Brut.
“We’re celebrating,” Daniel announces to the waiter as his gaze remains focused on me across the table.
The waiter leaves silently to get our champagne. For the first time since we got to the restaurant, Daniel breaks his stare as he glances at my hand resting on the table. He touches the top of my hand lightly with just his fingertips.
“Do you think people are still watching us?” I ask.
“I couldn’t care less.”
“Do you care what they’ll write on Facebook tonight? On the forums?”
“Hey, gossipers, make sure to get this down...” Daniel isn’t yelling, but he’s being loud enough that anyone who’s listening will hear. “This is official, we’re together. Write about that on your goddamn message boards!”
“Official, huh?” I feel myself blushing slightly.
“I just want them to get it right, for once.” Daniel’s back to his conversational tone.
“Since that’s the case...what next?”
I watch Daniel, waiting for his answer. The silence is punctuated by the sound of a champagne cork popping close to my ear.
“What’s next is that we’ll figure it out.”
The waiter fills both champagne flutes.
“I’ll be back with the first course,” he declares before disappearing again.
“You’re saying you’ll figure it out.” My mouth is getting strangely dry, and I take a sip of champagne.
“That’s what I’m saying. There are other doctors, specialists I can talk to. Money’s no object, and there’s no shortage of specialists in this city.”
I nod my head, staring at the bubbles rising to the surface of his champagne.
“You haven’t already been to every specialist on Earth?”
Daniel shrugs and takes the first sip of his drink. “I haven’t had this much motivation before.”
I let out a laugh, I’m not sure why, and I help myself to a hearty swallow of my own drink. “It’s hasn’t even been two months, but, as you say―it’s official.”
Daniel takes another small taste of champagne.
“I think we both want the same things, Rose. To be parents, to be with each other...I know that’s what I want.”
Daniel lets his eyes finish his thought as gazes at me, a gaze that says volumes. I gaze back, hoping that my own look carries the depth of what I’m feeling.
“I’ll be there for you, and I’ll support you, and we’ll get this figured out together,” I tell him, in case my look isn’t clear enough.
The service at Atera isn’t overbearing, but it’s fast. We get through every delicious course, and there’s still some sunlight showing through the window.
“It’s only seven-thirty, or not even,” Daniel says, checking his wristwatch.
“This was kind of an early dinner...”
“That doesn’t mean it has to be an early night.”
I flush with excitement again. This time it is that kind of excitement, partially—but I’m also excited just to spend more time with Daniel. I actually missed him at work today.
After all those tasting courses, and all that champagne, I end up leaning on Daniel while we leave Atera.
“Hey, how much champagne did you have?” I ask when I see the valet bring Daniel’s car up to the curb.
“Two sips—you had the rest.”
Both of us crack up, and we keep laughing all the way back to Daniel’s building.
I’m still leaning on Daniel when we’re in the elevator, but then he starts leaning slightly in my direction, and I start leaning harder on him, and we both just keep fucking laughing.
We’re both standing upright but still laughing gleefully when we walk into the penthouse.
Then our laughter stops.
It doesn’t peter out, but it just ends like someone lifted a needle off a record.
There’s a woman, standing right in the foyer, staring at us. She looks familiar, but the sight of her glaring at us is enough to scare away any memory I might have of her.
She has strawberry blonde hair and kind of a loopy expression and…shit, there’s a child standing right in front of her.
He can’t be more than six at most. The woman’s hands are on the boy’s shoulders, and he looks almost as confused as I am.
Okay, don’t freak out, just figure out what the fuck is going on first.
Where do I even begin? I try opening my mouth to ask a question, like Who are they?, but I can’t.
“Daniel.” The woman’s voice breaks the nervous silence, and the sound of her saying Daniel’s name incites a wave of nausea. “We need to talk.”
The woman walks over to Daniel with one arm over the boy’s shoulders. She’s looking at him with laser focus.
I feel paralyzed. Daniel looks at me.
“Rose…” Daniel says softly.
“Daniel, this is Darren. He’s your son.”
Amazingly, Daniel’s expression doesn’t change, and he’s still looking at me.
The nausea’s gone, and so is every other feeling.
I just feel numb.
The only thing I can feel are fresh tears streaming down my cheeks.
“Daniel, did you hear me?” The woman’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a long tunnel.
Daniel’s arm starts shaking slightly, and I realize it’s because I’m shaking. I hear myself let out a plaintive sob.
“Rose, don’t listen to her. We need to talk about this.”
Daniel’s voice is level and assured. I don’t know how to respond, but it doesn’t matter, because I don’t think I can, anyway.
“Daniel?” The woman’s voice sounds clearer this time, and with some effort, I stop shaking.
“I think you should talk to her f
irst,” I hear myself say.
I back away from Daniel, letting his hand fall from my shoulder.
“Rose...”
I walk to the door and open it, hearing Daniel say my name several more times, pleadingly, as I leave.
Daniel
Rose is walking out the door, but I wait for her to be out of hearing range before spinning around to lash out at Maggie―which I’m sure won’t end well for either party.
I hate the fact that the last picture I have in my mind of Rose from tonight is a face contorted with confusion and eyes that were swelling with tears.
She is right, though.
I need to discuss the pressing issue at hand, the elephant in the room. Maggie and I have some catching up to do, however unconventional and hostile it’s going to be for us.
I need to clear up the bitter resentment that I’m sure Rose is undoubtedly feeling right now, but it begins with a step in the right direction and a battle with Maggie.
Turning back to face her, I shrug, not knowing exactly how to pursue this argument. Maggie stands in front of me with the little boy looking quizzically between the two of us.
Her hands are on her hips, defiant, and neither one of us has even spoken a word yet to each other since Rose left.
“Okay, Maggie,” I sigh with exasperation. I don’t want to get the little boy involved, but she leaves me no choice because he’s standing right there, witnessing everything. “What is this really about?”
Maggie scoffs and pulls her son close to her, reeling him in by the shoulder. “What this is about, Daniel, is the fact that you have a son and you need to show him some respect.”
I glance at the boy named Darren and flash him a pearly white smile. It’s not the kid’s fault he has a crazy mother. I don’t want to inflict any further psychological damage on the poor kid by getting him caught up in a grown-up problem.
He glances at me with furrowed brows. He looks like he wants to trust me, but on the other hand, has a shy quality that’s not allowing him to part ways with his suspicions.
“How old are you, little man?” I attempt to engage him in friendly banter.
My efforts are ended in vain, because Maggie speaks up for him. “He’s five years old,” she jeers. “That’s something I guess you would already know if you took any effort in his life.”
“Maggie,” I begin and point a lecturing finger at her. “How the hell…” I trail off, sheepishly remembering that the kid is in the room before starting my argument over. “How in the world would I know about him if you never told me?”
Maggie rolls her eyes and breathes out a frustrated puff of air. “I’ve tried to contact you.”
“Uh…that’s news to me,” I retort, dripping with sarcasm.
“I found out I was pregnant with him shortly after we broke up.” Maggie’s tone softens as she glances at her offspring with a nostalgia that I can’t relate to.
Suddenly, I remember something that I can use as an ace up my sleeve. Maggie is bluffing, and I can prove it.
“Is there any way that we can speak privately?” I lean in and whisper in her ear.
“No.” Maggie shakes her head with antagonism. “He’s not leaving my side.”
“Fine,” I say and shift my weight. I already have enough to argue about with Maggie, I don’t need to add more things to the already leaning tower.
“I don’t think he’s my kid,” I tell her and cross my arms insolently.
Maggie laughs like a shrieking hound dog, then glances from her son and then directly back to me. “Are you kidding? He looks exactly like you, spitting image.”
I scrutinize the boy’s features for a minute or two, then shake my head. “I’m unconvinced, Maggie. First of all, you were on birth control pills when we broke up.”
“I stopped taking them,” Maggie blurts out as if she’s pulling the most outlandish excuses out of a hat.
“I know that’s not true,” I say and give her a knowing look. “You were always adamant you didn’t want kids and took the pill religiously. Remember? You always talked about how you weren’t ready for a family yet because you were diligently trying to pursue your modeling career?”
I raise an eyebrow and stare at Maggie, daring her to argue my exceedingly valid set of points. She’s not going to derail me to a plummet of burning flames just yet.
“Well, I…” Maggie grasps for straws, stuttering and falling over words.
“Then,” I remind her and point my finger in her direction, wagging it while another memory in my favor comes to me. “Then you left me. Do you remember that part, Maggie?” I slice through her confidence like it’s day-old bread.
“We grew apart,” Maggie counters with another sizable portion of pure bullshit.
I erupt into laughter like a wailing hyena. The boy stares at me with perplexity, and Maggie covers his ears.
“Maggie, you sound ridiculous right now. You do realize that, don’t you?”
“I’m not,” Maggie protests defensively.
“You left me for a celebrity and shattered my heart into a million pieces that I’m still trying to pick up to this day,” I confess and then immediately regret it.
Shit, I wish I could take that one back. I just admitted to a vulnerability that’s been absent ever since Rose came into my life, but is now coming screaming back, thanks to Maggie stirring up settled dust.
I glance at the floor, afraid to make eye contact with her. We’re silent for a few pauses while we both digest that information.
Then another issue dawns on me.
It was around the exact same time that Maggie left me that I started becoming aloof. That the condom issue surfaced.
This new realization rears its ugly head, but I have no choice but to cling onto control of the situation.
Maggie is staring down at her little boy, who also says nothing.
“Maggie.” My voice slices the air and startles all of us. “There’s only one surefire way to determine whether he is my son or not.” I point to the kid who’s shuffling his feet and glancing at the ground, looking uncomfortable.
“Oh yeah?” Maggie sneers. If we were in middle school I’m sure she’d be sticking her tongue out at me, because that’s how immaturely she’s behaving right now.
“Yeah.” I nod my head adamantly, ready to throw her kryptonite in her face. “Get a DNA test,” I demand of my ex.
“We don’t need a DNA test,” Maggie retorts. “He’s your son. I wasn’t with anyone else at the time―and besides, he looks just like you.”
Maggie appears smitten with her argument, thinking that I’ll just throw in the towel and grovel for forgiveness at her feet.
She probably expects me to cut her a fat check on her way out soon. Well, unfortunately for Maggie, she has sadly underestimated me.
“Maggie.” I try to enlist reasonable compromise into her brain. “I want the DNA test.”
“What, you’re a scientist now?” Maggie laughs, degrading me, which is apparently one of her favorite hobbies. “The truth will come out,” she adds, a quality of darkness moving across her features.
There’s a part of me that really prays this kid isn’t mine. I feel like I’ve been hit with an enormous life hurdle that I’m going to have to jump across in order to come out stronger on the other side.
I’m ready to build a family with Rose, and Maggie is certainly throwing an unwanted wrench in those plans.
Determined not to derail from what’s supremely important to me, I continue to forcefully persuade Maggie on the DNA testing idea.
I try to look at the bright side. Even if this little boy staring up at me with huge, confused saucer eyes—I think that even if it’s determined that he is my son after all—at least I’ll know that there’s a way to potentially conquer my coming problem.
Believe me, nobody wants a solution to my psychological issues more than I do. Well, maybe Rose is high up there on the list, too…but I need to have hope that I can father more children when the ne
ed presents itself.
Finally, I get Maggie to conform to the DNA testing. She’s hell-bent on making sure she keeps a tight grip on me in the meantime, and she’s proving to not go down without a fight.
“Fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest and gives me a sullen-child-type of look. “We can get the DNA test.”
“What’s the catch?” I ask with annoyance because I’m not a fucking idiot. I know that Maggie will want a favor in return.
“I’m going to stay here with you at your penthouse,” she says firmly, as if there is no reason for me to debate with her.
“That’s an absurd demand, Maggie,” I growl.
Maggie shrugs, as if my comfort is the least of her worries. I hate the idea of sharing a living space with Maggie again, but what if Darren really is my son?
“Take it or leave it,” she says.
I don’t want to scream and fight with her until I’m blue in the face. I want to leave a favorable impression on the poor kid.
I shake my head, and my knees involuntarily buckle under me. Good thing the couch is nearby, and I collapse into a heap on top of it, trying to get my head on straight.
I place my head in my hands and rub my throbbing temples. I have no choice but to agree to Maggie’s demands.
“Okay.” I nod, appeasing her as she looks at me with a smug smile. “You can stay,” I tell her, “But only until the results come through.”
I decide that I’ll place the confrontation with Rose on the back burner. It’s only fair―she doesn’t need to be involved in the never-ending drama unfolding in my life. Once everything is clear and out in the open, we can hopefully resume right where we left off.
Rose
I guess taxi drivers are used to seeing people cry in the backseat.
If I had decided on an Uber Pool instead, or if I decided to hoof it all the way down to my apartment, I may have had to deal with concerned looks, or people uncomfortably trying to not look at me at all.
Instead, the seasoned pro of a cabbie has no discernable reaction to my puffy, red eyes or my tear-strewn cheeks when I climbed in. Even though I’m barely able to verbalize my address through the sobs, he repeats it back perfectly before calmly starting the drive down to the Battery Park City area.
