by S. L. Finlay
"Um, just a coffee?" He said, half asking.
"He'll have a flat white." I told the barrister before there was a chance to ask which coffee Zac was after. I did this because, having been here a lot, I knew the proper name that they used in Melbourne for what Zac wanted. I smiled at the thought of how I could now translate the thoughts of my marine ex fiance into Australian coffee speak. I only allowed myself to do that for a short moment, then we got to talking. It was like he had no time to hear the answers to his questions.
"Why did you leave?" He asked, "was it because you were pregnant?"
The truth was that yes, I did leave because I was pregnant, but no at the same time. I left because I was pregnant and I didn't want my child to be raised by a man who could not honor his commitments. But I took a breath before I gave him the gentler version of the answer.
"I left because I knew there was someone else, and I couldn't put up with that." I told him, my eyes meeting his as I told him what I couldn't put up with. It felt aggressive, but I didn't care. I had been so angry, I should allow him to see a little bit of that anger at least. I should allow it to touch him like flames licking his skin. Hot and painful, something he could escape from less than I could. He wasn't impressed though.
Zac stared at me for a long moment, obviously trying to remember something, then he asked me, "you mean the girl in those photos online?" There was very little patience in his voice, like I had been the one to do something wrong. I took a breath though as I continued to stare into his eyes and gave one quick nod.
"Sweetheart, that's deployment." He told me, and my eyes grew wide with fury.
"Oh, so that's just normal to you? You just expect me to put up with that? To teach my daughter that that's okay, that she should just put up with that too? How would I ever teach my daughter about respect when her father doesn't respect her mother?" I asked, frustrated and angry.
Just then, Zac's coffee arrived in a mug. He thanked the barrister who sensing the tension quickly made himself scarce. I would have disappeared too if I was a barrister and saw this kind of anger bubbling between two people.
"What are you talking about?" Zac asked me.
I was so angry, that he had implied that I was not seeing his behavior as normal as he felt it should be, then that he was behaving like I was being irrational in my anger. Of course, a woman is always told how irrational her anger is! Of course people around her never accept that anger as justified when clearly it is! Of course this man was going to make my life hard, because he had done the wrong thing. And even after all this time and losing me and his daughter, he still couldn't see what he had done as wrong.
I didn't answer his question. Instead I just stared at him. I stared at him long and hard, without saying a single word. I just stared, and had the odd sip of coffee.
There was nothing to be said to a man who refused to see his behavior for what it was. There was nothing to be said to a man who couldn't see what was wrong with cheating on his pregnant partner who he claimed to love.
After a long silence Zac told me, "so, you don't like that I was deployed with female marines, is that it?"
My eyes grew wide, just who did he think he was?
"It wasn't who you were deployed with, Zac." I said, my tone measured, I wasn't going to break down and cry now. I wasn't going to get mad. I was just going to deliver the facts. "I was angry because you had cheated on me when you had been deployed. You had cheated on me when I was carrying your child."
There was a long silence, and a lot of confusion on Zac's face as I stared him down. How dare he!
Then, very quietly, and after a few moments of silence Zac told me, "I never cheated on you. Ever. With anyone."
That was enough to tip me over the edge. "I saw the photo's Zac! The jig is up!" I half-shouted at him, the cafe, which had been half-full with enough noise from the people sitting around us and the coffee machine grinding coffee beans nearby to sound like it was completely full, fell silent.
Zac, conscious of the sudden silence, looked around us, and, as people saw him looking at them - the big burly marine - they quickly looked away and started talking to their neighbors again, only, this time much more quietly than they had before, quiet enough that they could still hear whatever we were saying. The problems of small town living - that people would always want to know what their neighbors were doing, especially when it had nothing at all to do with them.
"I am telling you the truth." He told me. "There had never been anyone while we were together, and there really wasn't anyone since."
We looked at one another for a long moment, me disbelieving. How could he have not cheated? I had seen how chummy he was with that other girl in the photo. I had heard it from other army wives.
We stared at one another for a long moment, then, exhausted under the weight of everything that was happening and under the weight of what he was telling me, I broke down and cried. I cried for what felt like a long time.
There I was, sitting in a coffee house crying, and Zac was trying to offer me comfort.
When I had started crying, Zac had moved over to my side of the table with his chair and was giving me a big cuddle to comfort me through my tears.
After a while, perhaps two or three minutes of him comforting me, Zac told me quietly, "finish your coffee, and we'll get out of here."
Nodding my head, I agreed. Zac went up to pay for the coffee and I downed what was left of my luke warm coffee before standing to throw my coat on.
Zac was back quickly, and taking me by the hand - just as he had done thousands of times before when we were together - he led me out of the coffee shop.
Taking the imitative, Zac started to lead me towards his car, but I took him in the other direction, "I live near here, we can walk. Come with me."
Zac followed and within no time at all, we were on my couch, Zac holding me while I cried. I was mourning, not just the loss of our relationship, but also the loss of Zac's relationship with his daughter. He would never get those years back. He would never get all of those firsts: first steps, first words, first day of school.
Zac would never get any of that, but not because he hadn't wanted to be involved, but because I hadn't allowed him that privilege in his daughters life.
That stung the worst. That I hadn't let him have any of that, because I had assumed the worst of him. Because I had given in to my fears, as I had sat alone in our home.
But then something else occurred to me, something that would stop us getting back together, like I could feel we would once we worked though everything. I felt the familiarity of him again, the missing him, the desire to be with him. All those feelings were as strong as they'd been before I'd seen those photos on social media. They were there as they had always been. I wondered about the Southern Belle, but assumed that Zac was right, that this girl wasn't anything. She wasn't his, and he wasn't hers. Perhaps the were just dating. If he could tell me that there hadn't been anyone since me - not really - I knew that there could be no love between them. I knew Zac well enough to know that.
"What about the girl from the supermarket?" I asked, speaking to my thoghts of the Southern Belle who had been cooking his meals and accompanying him to the supermarket.
Zac shook his head and held his face blank for a long moment before he answered, "Oh. Right. Her."
"Yes, her." I told Zac, "what about her?" I asked, as if I had the trump card of all the trumpiest trump cards. The card that said, 'I know what you've been doing!' Even though we both knew there wasn't anything there. Or, at least I knew that now. I still had to go through the motions. We both did.
"What about her?" Zac asked me, his tone even. It was a genuine question.
"Well, what about her, like, you're together. And it's not fair, and -" I started to tell him but Zac cut me off.
"You're a journalist, did you find any brides in your searches?" He asked me. He did know me, and knew that I would have done some research before showing up at the base.
&
nbsp; I shook my head, because honestly I had never found anyone, and that had always seemed a little strange to me if I was honest.
"No. I didn't find anyone." I told him, "but, she could be something else..."
Zac was shaking his head at me. "She is nothing else."
"What - why-?" I had a question, a million questions, but none of them were coming out.
Zac had a small smile on his face, he was shaking his head at me. "No, she is no-one. She is a friend of one of the guys on the base who he wanted to set me up with from years ago. I didn't want anyone, because I was still hung up over you, and then when we met I found out she is a lesbian. She's in the closet." He told me.
"In the - closet?" I asked, slowly, as if saying these words slowly would make them make sense. I was an editor, I saw stories about openly gay people all the time, there were openly gay people on my staff, in my friendship circles. I knew that being in the closet was still a thing in a big way, but hearing about someone who actually was in the closet did seem strange to me.
"Yes." Zac told me, "I have been hung up on you and needed someone to pretend we were together so everyone would get off my back about meeting someone, and because of some inheritance, she has to pretend to be straight. I'm as much her fake boyfriend as she is my fake girlfriend." He told me.
"Oh." I said, thinking of how the Southern Belle had been in the supermarket - making herself scarce when she realized something was going on. Also, how friendly she'd been when she knew I was his ex, both of these things seemed somehow strange to me.
Zac was breathing out a sigh of exasperation as he told me, "I looked for you for ages after I came back. But no-one would tell me where you were. You moved on from your job, and I couldn't find you online anywhere. Weird for a journalist."
I let out a small, involuntary laugh. "I am not a journalist anymore." I told him, "I am an editor."
With a small nod, Zac let out a little laugh, "an editor! Of course you moved up!"
I was very proud of this career achievement, but didn't have long to bask in Zac's praise. I nodded at his comment, let the smile that was in my heart shine through on to my lips, then let out a little giggle. "Yes!"
That was before I checked the time, "it's almost time to pick up Charlotte from school." I told him.
Zac's face lit up, "you called her Charlotte!" He told me.
I gave him a little nod, "I knew you liked the name, and since you couldn't be here..."
Zac's face was sad, "I missed a lot, didn't I? She's six?"
Shaking my head I told him, "no. She's five. Pregnancy takes nine months."
"Oh." He managed.
We had been sitting side-by-side on my couch, and in a small voice, hoping that it would be some sort of reconciliation for the time that he had missed, I asked Zac, "do you want to come with me to pick her up?"
Zac gave a little nod and a smile bigger than the sun, "I'd love to." He told me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
It felt so good to be with him. So familiar, even after there had been an absence, it was like no time at all had passed. When we climbed into my car - he offered to drive, but I told him I always drove and that was non-negotiable - we were laughing the whole way there. Just like we had in old times.
That was, of course, after I had cleaned myself up from all the crying I had been doing before we went to pick her up. My daughter couldn't know I had been upset, there would be too many questions, and too much explaining. I didn't want all of her focus to be on me, but rather, wanting to give Zac a chance to talk to his daughter properly for the first time.
It was funny, how I had built up all of these walls, as I so often had in the past, and all Zac had to do to break them down was tell me that no, I wasn't allowed to be upset here, because it was all bullshit I had gotten upset about. All he had to do was tell me that I was taking all of this a little too seriously and that now was the time to chill out.
As the familiar charter bus pulled in and the children climbed from the bus, I got to be one of the mothers who stood beside the father at long last. We stood together and he held my hand. I was sure there would be plenty of gossiping among the parents about this new development, but I couldn't have my daughter see it before I was ready, so I dropped my hand as the children started climbing off the bus.
When my daughter appeared, she was happy to see me. A big smile shone across her face as she told me, "you should have seen what I did today!" Then launched into a story about how great she was getting at gymnastics. It didn't take much for me to get excited for her, or for her to babble for ages about this new, exciting development.
Zac stood back and watched us interact all the way back to the car as she told me her stories. Before we got into the car though, I made her stop for long enough - both stop moving, and stop jabbering - to introduce her to Zac.
"I know who you are!" She declared as I introduced her and my heart stopped before she went on, "you're the guy who tried to help me when I was lost! But ma found me!"
I let out a small laugh, which came more from a place of relief than anywhere else. I wanted her to meet him and him to meet her, but I wasn't ready quite yet for my daughter to know what Zac was her father. That was too much, especially when I considered that just this morning, I had been so sure that Zac had a partner now and that he'd had an affair when we were together.
When he spoke to me though, I could see his sincerity. I could see his honesty and that he hadn't been lying when he said there was no-one else.
If only we had had this discussion years ago. But, years ago I was too scared. Years ago I was on the run.
Letting out a deep sigh, I told my daughter that he was indeed that man, and that this evening we were going to have some pizza together. I hadn't run the pizza by Zac, but felt sure he'd be cool with it. He had liked pizza when we were together. Actually, he liked pizza almost as much as his daughter did I remembered as I watched my daughter jumping about excited over the pending pizza date.
We all climbed into my car then and Zac snuck a little smile at me when he saw his daughters love for pizza. He evidently thought it was the cutest thing ever, which made me smile pretty big.
Together we headed for the pizza place two towns over. It was better than our local place, and I knew they would both enjoy it more. Also, the longer drive gave us all more of a chance to chat.
Zac was interested in hearing about his daughters achievements both in gymnastics and in the classroom. He seemed pleasantly surprised to hear about how bright she was and how well she was doing in school.
That was quickly followed by Zac telling her a little about him, and how he was a soldier. Of course Charlotte wanted to know all about that, so he told her a little. But none of the gory stuff. He mostly talked about the day-to-day stuff, about life on base, about how strong he had to keep himself to keep the job. He drew parallels between his fitness regiment and hers, pointing out that she too was a strong little soldier. This seemed pretty lost on her.
"Are you married? Is your wife in the army?" Our daughter asked her father, while not knowing he was her father.
With her question, Zac looked over at me and answered, "I am not married. I was going to get married once, but it didn't work out."
"I'm sorry!" My daughter declared, "was she pretty at least?" She asked, her innocent question making me suppress a giggle in the front seat. Zac was still looking at me, and I didn't want him to see me as immodest, even though I kind of was.
"She was the prettiest!" Zac declared, "I have never seen a woman more beautiful in all of my life!" He told her, while looking at me. His eyes soft in that way that lovers always look to one another.
Charlotte, not missing an opportunity to talk about herself and her family told him, "well, she must have looked like my ma then!"
"Sorry?" I asked my daughter, feeling a little more on edge than I would like to admit, as if this girl who had been raised to believe that she didn't have a father would suddenly work it out that this man w
as her father.
But she wasn't working it out, in answer to my question my daughter told me matter-of-factly, "well, she has to look like you. You are the most beautiful woman in the whole wide world!" My daughter told me in her usual sweet tones.
I let out a short laugh, which was both nervous and relieved, then a sigh. Of course, she was flattering! Like father, like daughter.
A short while later, we pulled up outside my daughter's favorite pizza place and without anything said, she was rushing out of the car to try and get into the pizza place first. As if her rushing in would mean she would get to eat more quickly.
Together, the three of us chatted as we waited for our pizzas - ordered quickly because my daughter was dying to have hers ASAP - the conversation was an easy one, as if we had this sort of thing happen all the time. As if perhaps we were like every other normal family, not like I had kept this man at arms length for the lifetime of our shared child.
After our pizza, it was time for my daughter to go home to bed. Together, still playing happy families, despite the fact that my daughter had no idea who this man was, we left the restaurant after Zac - who had never changed from this old habit - had paid the bill.
Arriving home, my daughter started getting herself ready for bed, and when it was time I tucked her in, I told Zac that he could say goodnight, but that I would like to read her her bed time story as I always had in private, just as I always did. I wasn't going to let go of this little tradition just because someone else was in the house, after all.
Happily for me, Zac obliged. Letting me read the story as he loitered around the house awkwardly, waiting for his opportunity to say goodnight to our child.
When it was time to say goodnight, he poked his head in her door, wished her a good night and sweet dreams and offered to chase any monsters away for her.
My daughter seemed to think this charming stranger was funny as she laughed and told him that was my job, to chase the monsters away. That seemed to wound Zac a little, but he was determined to put on a strong front for our daughter. He said that was good, that I had obviously done a good job and told her that if she needed a second monster-chaser, he was always there.
