Everything I Want

by MacMillan, Jerica

  “Look, Kami—”

  But she cuts me off. “I get it.” Holding her hands up, palms out, she stands and moves away from my desk. “I know Maddie’s dad isn’t a subject you like to talk about. But given the fact that it’s affecting your mood enough that the doctors have been commenting about it, I think you need to exorcise some demons. You pick the venue, but you’re not getting out of this chat.”

  My mouth goes dry. “What have they said?”

  “Nothing serious. Just wondering if I know if everything’s okay with you. You’re normally so even and friendly with everyone, even the worst patients. But your patience is thin, and it’s noticeable. We all care about you, Samantha. We just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  Sighing, I pull myself to the desk. “I’m okay.” Mostly.

  She pats my shoulder. “We can talk more after you’re done. Come and get me when you’re ready to go.”

  A half hour later, I file the rest of my paperwork, grab my jacket and purse, and head to the little closet that Kami calls an office. I could duck her. She’d be hurt, probably, but she’d get over it. Especially if I said that I needed to pick up Maddie and my parents have plans tonight so they can’t keep her longer. She’d never know I was lying.

  But if the doctors are commenting about me, asking her about me, then she’s right. I need to talk this out.

  Because even though I told Kyle everything when it first happened, I’ve been mostly avoiding talking to him since then. He’ll text or call on the weekends and ask how I’m doing, or he’ll check in with me at work, but I’ve been keeping all our conversations surface level, focusing on work or something cute Maddie did. He’s always easy to distract with a good Maddie story. The fact that she’s the cutest kid ever doesn’t hurt.

  “Hey, girlie,” she says when I come into view. “You ready to go?” At my nod, she grabs her things and skips around the desk, leading the way to the door. “Where to?”

  I hesitate. “I’m not sure.”

  With her hand on the door, she turns to look at me, examining my face. “My place or yours? I have ice cream.”

  “Rocky road?”

  “You know it.”

  “Let’s go.”

  We take our separate cars, and I park in the visitor spot closest to her apartment, following her up the steps and inside once she’s unlocked her door. I make myself at home on her couch while she bustles into the kitchen for the promised ice cream.

  We chat about the day, waiting until she’s settled on the couch next to me, both of us with bowls of chocolate ice cream laced with marshmallow and chocolate-covered nuts. “Alright,” she says around her first mouthful of ice cream. “Tell me how we’re feeling about the reappearance of Maddie’s dad. What’s his name, by the way? Why hasn’t he been around all this time? Are you pissed?”

  Sighing, I take a bite and shake my head. “Where do you want me to start? That’s a lot of questions. And none of them are really related.”

  She shakes her head at my poor attempt at deflection. “Fine. Name?”

  “Aaron.” I don’t give her more than that. It’s not relevant to the conversation and will only send us off into the weeds. Or into a screaming fit for her. I don’t have the patience right now to deal with her freaking out about my daughter being the love child of a famous person. Man, I really am edgy. Normally I find Kami’s antics amusing.

  “Okay. How did you guys meet?”

  “In high school. He was my boyfriend senior year.”

  “Did he know you got pregnant?”

  I nod, scooping up another bite. “Yeah. We were both pretty freaked out, to be honest. We were careful, used protection, and one time the condom broke. Apparently it was at the right time because …”

  “Right. So what happened? He just bailed?” Her tone is laced with disgust.

  “No.” I shake my head. “No, he didn’t bail. We talked about it. I said I wanted an abortion. He hugged me and said that he’d be there for me no matter what I chose.”

  “But …?” Kami prompts quietly. “Obviously you didn’t get an abortion. Did your parents forbid it or something? I know you said they’re religious. Or used to be. Or something.”

  God, I hate talking about this so much. “No, nothing like that. It was me. I changed my mind. I just … I couldn’t do it. I grew up hearing how wrong it was, and even though I didn’t necessarily buy into all the beliefs I was raised with anymore and I didn’t want to have a baby, wasn’t ready by any stretch, I couldn’t bring myself to go through with it. I just … couldn’t.”

  “Did he get mad when he found out you changed your mind? Is that why he bailed?”

  “No. He didn’t bail. I didn’t tell him.”

  “What? Sam. Please tell me you’re joking.”

  I look up from my bowl and meet her eyes. “He was already gone to New York City, to Juilliard. He had a life ahead of him. A career. A plan. I was supposed to leave for Virginia the next week, actually. But I didn’t. I thought I was doing the right thing, letting him keep his plan. Letting him go off to live his amazing life. He didn’t find out about Maddie until I saw him a few weeks ago.” I bite my lip, debating with myself. I didn’t necessarily want to tell her who Aaron is tonight. But if I don’t …

  Well, she’ll find out eventually. Either I’ll have to tell her, or she’ll see something about Aaron having a kid in the entertainment news. She follows Cataclysm religiously …

  Straightening my spine, I inhale and hold the air in my lungs for a beat before letting it go. “Actually, it was the night you took me out for my birthday that I ran into him again.”

  Kami’s brows pull together in confusion. “What? When? Where?”

  My fingers turn white as I clench the bowl, forcing myself to continue. “Backstage. Well, onstage, then backstage. He’s the one who got me the passes.”

  Her eyes dart around, her lips parted as she puts two and two together. “Aaron. Maddie’s dad’s name is Aaron. Aaron Ellison? The keyboard player for Cataclysm?” Her voice is almost a shriek. “Aaron Ellison is your baby daddy?”

  With a mouth full of ice cream so I don’t have to talk, I nod.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Wincing at her volume, I swallow and gesture at her with my spoon. “For the record, only like three people know. Well, I guess more now since I’ve actually told Aaron.” I shake my head. “That’s not the point. The point is, I didn’t tell anyone. I never planned on telling him, so why spread the news around? No good could come of it.”

  She chews on that for a second, relaxing slightly as she stares at me, her tone still disgruntled when she speaks. “Fine. Why tell me now then?”

  Shrugging, I poke my ice cream with my spoon. “I wanted you to find out from me, not a tabloid or on TV or something.” Taking another deep breath, I decide to get the conversation back on track. “You asked if he was mad when he found out. The answer is yes, he was, but not because I changed my mind. It was because I’d kept that fact from him for almost five years. I told him after the concert, and now that he knows about Maddie, he wants to be involved.”

  “Wow,” Kami breathes. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

  “There’s not much to say. I made a choice, and now I’m dealing with the consequences. That’s the way life works. No one knows that better than me.”

  Kami’s still as she stares at me. “What are you going to do?”

  “Wait for him to get in touch. That’s what I’ve been doing.”

  “Do you think he’s going to try to get custody?”

  My heart turns into a lump of ice, and I don’t know how it keeps beating. I set the bowl of mostly melted ice cream on the coffee table, no longer interested in eating the rest. “I don’t know. Maybe? He asked for a confirmation DNA test. I sent in the swab last week. I don’t know how long those things take. I’m not worried about the results, though. She’s his. There’s no doubt about it.” A prick of anger melts some of my fear. “There
shouldn’t be for him, either, honestly. But he said his …” I trail off, wishing I had the ice cream bowl again to shove a bite in my mouth for an excuse to stop talking. Instead, I clear my throat. “He said he’d get a court order for one if I didn’t do it voluntarily. Maybe that’s why he’s waiting. Maybe he wants the results first.”

  And I feel sick again. Because I thought after all we had together, especially since he knew I got pregnant in the first place, that he’d believe me. If nothing else, that he’d take one look at her and see enough of him to recognize that she’s his. I see his face in hers every day. His nose. His eyes. Some of her expressions. She’s his daughter, through and through, even if she has my hair color instead of his. Asking for the DNA sample threw me for a loop, and it still makes my throat burn with acid when I think about it.

  I made it a game, using a regular Q-tip to swab my cheek. Then letting her swab my cheek. Then using the one from the kit to swab hers.

  The problem is, she thought it was hilarious. And she’s asked to play the Q-tip game several times since then. And it kills me every time. I try to find excuses not to, or distract her with something else that she likes, like PlayDough or watercolors. Things I don’t like to get out often because they’re messy and I’m not always up for the cleanup.

  My phone, sitting on the couch next to me, vibrates against my thigh. Absently I reach for it, assuming it’s my mom checking in. But my breath catches. Because as though my thoughts have conjured him, it’s Aaron.

  I’m back in town. Let’s figure out a visitation schedule.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aaron

  Coming home always feels wrong. It has ever since my dad died of a heart attack my sophomore year at Juilliard.

  I still haven’t gotten over the suddenness of his loss. He was an active guy, worked his whole career for the Forest Service. And then one day, like a bolt of lightning, his heart stopped. I was in class when it happened, and I didn’t find out for almost an hour because my phone was on silent in my bag with my mom and my brothers alternating calling over and over until I pulled my phone out at the end of class and saw the thirty-seven missed calls.

  A corner of the foundation of my world crumbled and fell apart that day. And I’ve felt off-balance ever since. Coming home highlights that fact more than anything. That no matter how much I pretend I’m okay, even going so far as to memorialize my dad in permanent ink on my skin, I still haven’t really processed his death. The tattoo of a forest scene that circles my forearm with small silhouettes of a man and boy hand in hand on the soft skin of my inner wrist, was intended as both memorial and reminder. A way to force myself to confront the fact that he’s gone. But after a while, the story became separate from the artwork. And I almost don’t even notice it anymore.

  I’ve rented an apartment while I’m here. Partly so that Maddie can come to my place and not be bombarded by other people, especially since Sam and I have figured out a tentative schedule. For now. But also because I can’t stomach the thought of staying in my old room. I’ve only done it a few times since the funeral. When Cataclysm put out the auditions for a new keyboard player, I jumped at the chance. I was floundering at school, losing my focus, and Mom was struggling with the bills while waiting for the insurance company to stop dicking her around and pay out on Dad’s life insurance policy. Cataclysm had already signed with a label. Had studio time booked. Had a complete album of songs, a killer EP, and a tour lined up. It was a risk, but at least it had the opportunity for income. Staying at Juilliard just meant racking up more bills, more debt, and much as Mom tried to hide it, I knew it stressed her out.

  My older brothers made sure I knew how much, because Mom wouldn’t talk to me about it.

  They also like to tell me how much of an asshole I am for missing Christmases the last few years. I came home those first two Christmases when I was still in school. I didn’t join Cataclysm till the spring of sophomore year. But since then I’ve made excuses.

  Until now.

  Yet another way that Maddie’s existence changes everything.

  Parking on the street in front of my childhood home, I stare at the house for a long moment. It still looks the same. Dormer windows on the second story. Medium brown siding. Peeling hunter green trim. Our old tire swing dangles from a forlorn rope hanging from a thick branch on the leafless maple, shifting to and fro in the breeze. Like a ghost child playing in the yard.

  Maddie would probably have fun on that. She should’ve been having fun on it all this time, playing with her cousins who are younger than she is. My niece and nephew, who I’ve only seen once since I’ve made it my job to stay away. They’re two and three, respectively. I guess Mom should be happy to find out all her sons have managed to procreate?

  I’ve been dreading this conversation. Which is why I’ve shown up early, before my brothers and their families get here for the Christmas Eve celebrations tonight. I want the chance to talk to Mom alone. Let her know that she’s a grandma again. Has been for longer than any of us realized.

  I have no idea how she’s going to react.

  Only one way to find out.

  Dragging myself up the front walk, I tap on the front door as I open it and walk inside. “Hey, Mom. It’s me.”

  She comes out of the kitchen, beaming, a few more lines creasing around her eyes than there were the last time I saw her. “Aaron! You’re early! I’m so glad you decided to come home for Christmas this year. I don’t even care why you had such a sudden change of plans or that it was so last minute. I’m just glad you’re here.” She wraps her arms around me, and a pang of guilt rings through my chest as I return her hug. Maybe my brothers are right and I am an asshole for staying away. Paying off the house and making sure she’s set isn’t the same as being here.

  Maybe Mom’ll be thrilled to learn I won’t be staying away so much anymore. Not with Maddie here.

  “It’s good to see you too, Mom.” I can’t say I’m glad to be here, because every time I’m here, I keep expecting Dad to come down the stairs or be sitting in his recliner in front of the TV or come in from the backyard. Like he’s just stepped out for a minute and will be right back. Maybe spending more time here will cure me of that, but in the meantime it’s torture. Reopening the wound, fresh grief spilling out all over again.

  But it is good to see my mom, despite the pain.

  She motions me toward the kitchen with a nod of her head, her light brown bob swinging. “I’m just finishing up a batch of cookies for the kids to frost later. They need plenty of time to cool down so the frosting doesn’t just melt and slide off. And then they can leave them out for Santa tonight.”

  I swallow a grimace at the fact that Maddie will be left out of that tradition. I’m sure she’ll be doing whatever fun thing she usually does with her mom and her other grandparents. But now that I know she exists, I want her to be part of my life. I still don’t even know if she knows I’m her dad. Sam and I haven’t discussed that beyond my statement when I saw her last that I want Maddie to know the truth the next time I see her. Did Sam take that to mean she should tell her before I see them again? Or does she want me to tell her? Or does she want me there so we can both tell her? Do I even want to be there for that conversation?

  Fuuuck.

  This is all such a mess.

  I force my jaw to relax, both so I don’t grind my molars into dust and so Mom doesn’t pick up on my inner turmoil. I want to tell her about Maddie. But I don’t really want to tell her about the whole mess surrounding Maddie. Not if I can help it.

  I sit myself down at the kitchen table while Mom bustles around the stove, sliding sugar cookies in the shape of stars and trees and bells from a cookie sheet to a cooling rack. “There’s more dough in the fridge,” she says, gesturing at the appliance with her spatula. “Feel free to make yourself useful and roll it out for me.”

  Grinning, I stand and pull out a disk of cookie dough covered in plastic wrap.

  “Don’t forget to wash you
r hands,” Mom singsongs without looking at me.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I mutter, pushing up my sleeves and turning on the kitchen sink. She hums Christmas music to herself as I wash and dry my hands, then unwrap the dough and grab the rolling pin. It’s been ages since I’ve done this, and it shows when I smash the pin into the dough and squash it, leaving a big dent in the middle instead of smoothly flattening it. Oops.

  Mom tsks behind me. “Here. Let me.”

  I set the pin down and step aside, leaving her to it. Rubbing my hand over my face, I debate telling her while she’s working—it might be easier to get it all out if her attention is divided—or waiting until she’s done. Waiting is probably the more thoughtful choice.

  But she takes the choice from me. “Spit it out, Aaron.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. “What?”

  She gives me a long-suffering look. “I can hear the gears in your brain turning from here. Just tell me what’s on your mind. You obviously want to or you wouldn’t have shown up almost two hours before dinner.” She points at me with the wooden rolling pin. “Especially you. Joey or Eric might’ve shown up early just to scam extra cookies—at least when they were single. But you’ve made a point to not be here, going so far as renting your own place while you’re here.”

  “Ma …” I protest, but trail off when she shakes her head and resumes rolling the dough to the perfect thickness for cookies.

  “I’m not chastising. I know my boys. And I know that you being here now means you want to talk about something. So talk.” She sets aside the pin and holds my gaze, her eyes clear and blue and intelligent as ever.

  With a sigh, I lean my head in my hands, unable to look her in the eye while I break the news. “Remember Samantha Barnes? My high school girlfriend?”

  “Yes, Aaron,” Mom says dryly. “You dated her for a year. She was over here almost daily during that time. I’m not likely to forget her. What about her?”

  I scrub my hands over my face. I never told my parents about the pregnancy scare when it happened. I was waiting. And then Sam said she was going to terminate. And then what was there to tell? Hey, Mom and Dad. I got my girlfriend pregnant on accident. But don’t worry, she’s getting an abortion, so no biggie. Riiiight. That would not have gone over well. My parents are lapsed Catholics, and while they’re pretty open minded about a lot of things, I think abortion is still a sticky subject for them. Or it was. Or maybe it still is for my mom.