by Hayden Hunt
And this was one of them. For years now, we had struggled with having a child. We’d decided early on that we’d adopt but it’s been several years of trying to get chosen and we’d begun to grow weary.
I almost wanted to give up. I told Aaron that if it didn't happen now, I didn’t want to keep going to adoption interviews. I didn’t want to keep getting my hopes up for nothing.
And now it was actually happening.
I knew it was a little early to get excited. Our expectant mother could still technically back out and retain legal rights if she wanted to.
And yet, I wasn’t worried about any of that. I couldn’t explain it. There was just this feeling in my bones that told me this child was going to be ours. They were going to be healthy, happy, and, one day, I was going to hold them in my arms. I just knew it. And I didn’t doubt it for a second.
I had barely found out about this child, but already I loved it so much. I felt these intense emotions come over me, feelings of wanting to protect my baby no matter what. Feelings of undying love, like I would actually sacrifice my life for this baby if it came down to it.
For some reason, even though I rarely did anymore, this made me think about my mother.
My mother, who, in all these years of living in the same town as me, had never gotten in touch with me. She hadn’t called, she hadn’t dropped by, she wouldn’t even add me on social media. She had cleansed me from her life.
And I’d basically stopped trying to get in contact with her. For the first year, I’d still held out hope that my parents would come around. And when Aaaron had proposed to me, I’d written them both a letter letting them know I was getting married to him.
I’d wanted to open the door for them to be there at my wedding, if they wanted. I’d known it was a long shot, but I’d also really thought that the knowledge that I was getting married might have jolted them to their senses. Surely, they wouldn’t have wanted to miss my wedding day, right? Surely, I was still their son who they loved.
But evidently not.
I’d never understood it, but I understood it even less now. Now that I was having a child, whom I hadn’t even met yet loved unconditionally. There was nothing my baby could do to make me give up on a relationship with them. As long as I was living, I knew I’d always be there for my child.
I may have only known I was about to be a father for less than an hour, but, already, I knew I was going to be a better parent than mine had been. I would never hurt my child the way my parents had hurt me.
And it really had hurt. I’d mourned our relationship. I’d been upset that I’d had nobody to walk me down the aisle. I’d been devastated that they’d no longer wanted a relationship with me. But as I’d grown into a family with Aaron, I began to miss them less and less. And, now, I only resented them… and even that, I didn’t think about often.
Aaron was my family now. We’d been married for years now, and, even without a child, we were a family. He was my entire world. And if I had to give up my parents so that I could have him… well, it’d never been a hard choice.
I was so anxious for him to get home. He hadn’t worked today, but he’d run out to get us donuts for breakfast like he usually did on Saturdays. I loved that we had our own little routines and traditions now. Again, it was just one of those things that made us feel like a family.
I heard the door creak, and my heart started racing.
“Babe, I’m back! But they totally ran out of maple bars. I’m sorry, but I grabbed the chocolate ones so—”
He walked into the room, and his face automatically dropped when he saw me. “Baby, what’s wrong!?”
I was crying. I didn’t even know how it had started. I’d just heard his voice and thought about the fact that I was about to tell him he’d be a father, and I hadn’t been able to control my tears. They were happy tears, of course, but he didn’t know that.
I tried to explain, tried to get the words out, but I kept choking on loud sobs instead. He looked panicked, setting down the box of donuts on our dresser as he looked around the room, as if searching for what upset me.
“Baby, please, tell me what’s wrong.” He pleaded.
“I’m not upset…” I said softly. “I’m happy.”
“You’re… happy?” He asked.
I grinned at him. “The adoption agency called… we’re going to have a baby.
He went slack-jawed. “What?!”
I repeated it. “We’re going to have a baby.”
He squealed and wrapped his arms tightly around me. “We’re going to have a baby!”
Now I wasn’t the only one crying.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he laughed at me.“So, this is finally happening, we’re finally going to be parents.”
“And you can finally start painting that nursery,” I said, as I nudged him with my shoulder. We’d specifically put off painting a nursery after our first failed interview. We’d decided it’d be too depressing to have an empty baby’s room in the house before we actually had a child. And I was glad we’d thought of that, because it really would have made the process much harder.
“Yes!” he said excitedly, as he jumped up off the bed. “In fact, that’s what I’m going to do today! I’m going to get started on the nursery!”
“Seriously?” I raised an eyebrow at him. “One day, and you’re already nesting?”
“Yes!” he said eagerly. “Day one, and I’m going to nest. And I’m going to continue to nest every damn day until we have that baby.”
Again, tears welled up in my eyes. I wasn’t a big crier, but the news had me so emotional.
“You are… incredibly sweet,” I told him, “and I’m so lucky to have you.”
“You are,” he gave me a cocky grin, “and I’m lucky to have you, too.”
I’d been discontent for so long. In high school, it’d been because I couldn’t admit my feelings for Aaron. After high school, it’d been because I hadn’t had him in my life. And even after our marriage, I’d struggled with the fact that I couldn’t have kids like I’d so desperately wanted to.
But now? Now there was nothing to be upset about. There was no discontentment. I was completely, finally happy with my life. In absolutely every aspect, it was perfect, thanks to Aaron and the life we’d forged together.
I was finally, completely, blissfully happy.
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15
Daniel
“Thank you!” I said cheerfully to the taxi cab driver as I handed him cash.
“No problem, Happy Thanksgiving!”
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too!” I said as I grabbed my suitcase out of the backseat and started walking toward my parents’ front door.
I had this weird mix of excitement and nervousness going. But I needed to do this, it had been a long time coming. I hadn't been home for Thanksgiving in six years.
To be fair, that wasn’t all my fault. My rocky relationship with my parents was a two-way street. I may have not done much to mend our relationship, but neither had they. And they were the adults in the relationship.
But I was an adult now too. Well, technically I’d been an adult since 18, but everyone knows you’re still essentially a child at that point. I matured slowly over the past several years. I finally felt like I was at a point where I could take the first step in improving our relationship.
I was their only child after all. I had no siblings, nobody else to call my family. And, admittedly, I was pretty lonely because of this.
I guess that was the whole reason I decided to come out here in the first place. I made the decision three weeks ago when I overheard my coworkers discussing going back home for the holidays. We had a very generous chunk of time off for Thanksgiving and most people to
ok advantage of that by traveling to their home towns.
I usually just used the extra time to lounge around my apartment, binge watching TV shows and eating Chinese food leftovers on Thanksgiving day. Which never bothered me before. In fact, I enjoyed not having to fight with my family over the holidays.
But I guess as I’d grown up and started to think about settling down with my own family one day, it made me reflect on how shitty things were with my own. And I didn’t want to continue down this path with them.
The first few years I missed Thanksgiving with them, they asked what my plans were or if I planned on coming home. But after a few years of rejecting their offers, they stopped asking. They didn’t even mention it this year.
But that was perfect because it gave me the opportunity to drop in on them by surprise. It made me a little nervous just showing up at their house after so many years of not coming home, but I was their son. I knew as soon as my mom opened the door, she was going to be thrilled I took the initiative to come here.
At least, I hoped she was. I hoped they both were.
I started pulling my suitcase up the rocky gravel of their driveway. They desperately needed it repaved. The whole house was slowly falling into disarray. The grass was way too long and dying in some spots, and paint was chipping off the wood panels.
It was an old house, but I was kind of surprised to see this. My father was pretty good with his hands and he used to be meticulous about keeping the lawn nice and green. But maybe as they’d gotten older, he hadn’t been able to keep up with it as much. He did work a lot. I was always amazed he was able to find time to do anything around the house honestly.
I rang the doorbell once, my heart racing as I waited for my mom to come to the door. Undoubtedly, my father would be on the couch glued to whatever football game was on television.
But minutes passed, and nobody came to the door. I rang it once more, starting to tap my foot with nervousness.
Still, nobody answered. This was weird—where else would they be at this time on Thanksgiving? They didn’t know I was coming but I very specifically asked them if they’d be home on Thanksgiving for this reason. They had told me they would be, that they would just be cooking at home like usual.
I tried to peek in through the blinds of the window to see if any lights were on inside, but I couldn’t see anything. I rang the doorbell once more and then decided I would give my mom a call.
I didn’t want to do that; I really wanted the surprise to be in person. But what else was there to do at this point?
“Hello?” she answered, sounding surprised to hear me call on Thanksgiving.
“Hey, Mom, where are you?” I asked.
“I’m at home, sitting at the kitchen table. Why do you ask?”
“You haven’t heard the doorbell ring?” I asked, hoping to somehow still preserve the surprise.
“No, we don’t have one.”
I was completely confused and starting to think she wasn’t hearing me right.
“Mom, no, the doorbell,” I emphasized. “Have you heard the doorbell?”
“I told you, we don’t have one.”
“Don’t have one what?”
“A doorbell.”
I started to get a little scared at this point. We’d had a doorbell the entire time I lived here. This was the only house I grew up in. Was something wrong with her? My mind immediately went to early Alzheimer’s or dementia or something. How could she forget we had a doorbell?
“What are you talking about, Mom? Of course there is a doorbell! There’s always been a doorbell at our house.”
“At our old house, you mean?” she asked.
My heart sank.
“What do you mean, old house?”
“I mean, the house we lived in when you were growing up. It had a doorbell. Our new house doesn’t.”
“Your new house?” I gasped. “You moved?”
“Well, yeah, two years ago.”
“Two years ago? And you never bothered to tell me this?”
“I guess not,” she said nonchalantly. “I don’t know why we would. It’s not as though you ever come to visit us.”
“Uh, how about the fact that I’m your son? And I haven’t even known where you’ve been living?”
“Well, I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t think it mattered much. I still am not sure why you’re so upset over this.”
I tried to take a deep breath in. This was all a reminder of why we had a falling out in the first place. God, she could be so clueless and so selfish. How did neither of them think to contact me about moving houses?
I was their son, for crying out loud! This was how it’d always been, though. I always felt like an unimportant third wheel in my own household.
But I wasn’t going to get mad. This was probably still salvageable. I could just get a cab over to their new house and surprise them that way. I didn’t think she even suspected yet that I came home for the holiday.
“So what street are you living on now?” I asked.
“The street?” she said, confused.
“Yeah, what street are you at?”
“Well, Daniel, I don’t think you’re going to recognize the street name or anything.”
I laughed. “Mom, I know it’s been a few years, but I grew up here. I still remember every street, trust me.”
“You didn’t grow up here. You grew up in Greenton.”
“Yes, I… Wait! Are you saying you moved out of Greenton?”
“Well, yeah, we moved out of the state.”
“Out of the state?” I nearly shouted.
Oh my God, this was so much worse than I thought. I was pissed when I thought they had just moved houses without me. But they had moved out of the God damn state?
“You know we used to always talk about moving down to Florida.” She said casually.
“Florida? No, you never mentioned Florida to me in my entire life! I… I cannot fucking believe this.”
“You can’t possibly be mad about this!” she said, beginning to get defensive. “You rarely ever call us! It’s not as if you’ve been a big part of our lives or anything.”
“Big part of your lives? Mom, I’m your fucking son. Your only son. I should matter enough that you can tell me when you move out of the fucking state.”
“Don’t use that language with me! You have no right to be mad. Besides, now you know, so no harm done.”
“Uh, yes, harm done, Mom! I’m in Greenton!”
“What?” she asked.
“I was going to surprise you guys and come down for Thanksgiving. I’m in Greenton, in front of my childhood home, as we speak.”
“Well, that is pretty unfortunate,” she said, as if I’d just told her I forgot to grab milk at the grocery store.
“Yeah! A little unfortunate! What the hell am I supposed to do now?”
“I don’t know, Daniel. You could have called. We would have told you we moved out of Greenton.”
“Right, I could have booked a flight to Florida instead,” I said in an exasperated tone.
“Well, no, probably not. We live in a small condo. It’s no place for visitors, anyway.”
“Wait…” I began slowly. “You’re not saying what I think you’re saying, right?”
“This is why you need to call, Daniel.”
“So you’re saying even if I had asked, you wouldn’t let me visit you on Thanksgiving?”
She gave an annoyed groan. “We just don’t have the room, Daniel. It’s nothing personal.”
I had to literally laugh at that. “No, you’re right, it is nothing personal. That’s kind of the issue, right? I’m not a personal member of this family. We don’t have a personal relationship and we never have.”
“Well whose fault is that?” she snapped. “You never wanted to visit before. You never tried to call. You’re not innocent in this!”
“You are my mother!” I argued. “You two are my parents. You were supposed to make me feel loved and care
d for and all of that nurturing shit. Instead, you guys pushed me away as far as you possibly could. You kept your distance until I was eighteen and then you couldn’t have been happier to have me out of your life, right?”
She sighed. “Look, Daniel, I must go. I’m baking a few pies for tomorrow and—”
“Oh, sorry Mom, am I ruining your Thanksgiving weekend with all my issues?’
“Frankly, Daniel, you are kind of putting a damper on the day. I’d like to enjoy my Thanksgiving.”
I nearly threw my phone at the concrete.
“Really, Mom, do you? Do you want to enjoy your Thanksgiving? Because so do I! But now I’m stranded in Greenton with no place to go and no family to see!”
“That’s not my fault, Daniel! You should have called! And you’re fully capable of getting a flight out of Greenton.”
“Great, so you know I’ll just spend tonight in a hotel and spend my Thanksgiving waiting for a damn flight!”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to find one fairly easily. Nobody flies on Thanksgiving day.”
I was seeing red. “That’s not the fucking point, Mom! The point is you don’t even bother to tell your only son that you have moved out of fucking town and now I can’t even see you. But, oh, wait, even if you had told me that you moved I wouldn’t be able to see you because you don’t give enough of a flying fuck about me to let me stay in your damned condo!”
“That is enough!” she snapped. “I will not be spoken to like this. I hope you get a fast flight home, but I am ending this conversation now. Bye, Daniel.”
She hung up the phone.
I went from seething mad to incredibly depressed. It took all I had not to crumble on the floor and start bawling right then.
It was the same vulnerability that I always felt as a kid. I hated that it was all coming back to me now. All those nights I spent crying under the covers in my room, wondering why I couldn’t get my parents to care about stuff like parent teacher night or my soccer games. Wondering why they always brushed me off and ignored my questions about their day when they came home from work.
