Everything I Want

by MacMillan, Jerica

  Fuck, I don’t know.

  “Aaron?” Mom prompts when I don’t say anything for too long. “Did you run into her again or something?”

  “You could say that.” I drop my hand to the table, examining my fingers.

  “Are you … dating … or something?”

  For some reason that makes me laugh. A hysterical burble of laughter comes out, and I can’t stop it.

  Mom huffs in annoyance and grabs a cookie cutter, carefully smooshing it into the dough, making sure the cookies turn out great despite her irritation with me. “Is that really so ridiculous? You were head over heels for that girl. I know you didn’t want to be tied down right out of high school, and I don’t blame you, I think you both made a smart decision. But you’re both in different places now. You’re older. It’s not like you broke up because you decided you hated each other.”

  I’m laughing so hard that tears come to my eyes, and then my laughter dies, and all I’m left with is the tears in my eyes that I swipe at almost angrily. “No. It’s not ridiculous.” I wanted the same thing when I first saw her again. “But no. That’s not what I want to talk about.”

  “What then?”

  “I got Sam pregnant. The summer after graduation.” The cookie cutter clatters to the table. I look up to meet my mother’s shocked, wide eyes and spread my hands. “Congratulations, you’re a grandma again. To a four-year-old little girl named Maddie.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Aaron

  Mom sits down heavily in a nearby chair. She rubs her forehead with one hand, covering her eyes and giving herself a moment.

  Dropping her hand to her lap, she clears her throat and looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry. I think you need to start from the beginning of this story. And tell me how it is that I have a four-year-old granddaughter who I’ve never met.”

  My stomach churns with the same sick feeling I had every time I thought about telling my parents I accidentally got Sam pregnant when I was eighteen. Only now I’m twenty-three, a successful adult by all accounts. I shouldn’t be this worried about parental disapproval. It’s not like my mom’s going to kick me out. For one thing, I don’t live here. And for another, she’s not that kind of parent. Even if I’d known all along that Sam kept the baby, even if I’d told my parents at eighteen, they never would’ve disowned me.

  Still, who wants to face the disapproval of their parents?

  Not me.

  Sitting back in my chair, I clear my own throat. “When Sam and I were together, we had a … mishap. She got pregnant.”

  “Didn’t your father have the safe sex talk with all of you boys? We agreed that that was his job. From the time you were babies, the first time I got pregnant, we made a deal. He’d handle the boys. I’d handle the girls.”

  I give her a crooked grin. “You got off easy, then, since you only had boys.”

  She pins me with a glare. “You’re saying that being the mother of three boys is easy?”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “No, ma’am. I’m not saying anything of the sort.”

  “Good. Don’t change the subject. You had unprotected sex with your high school girlfriend. Continue.”

  My nostrils flare. “I did not. The condom broke.” Oh my god. I can’t believe I’m discussing broken condoms with my mother. This is part of the reason I didn’t want to talk to my parents about this at eighteen. The mortification of discussing my sex life is the worst part. And being accused of stupidity.

  Mom’s eyes widen, then resumes her poker face. “Well.” She crosses one leg over the other. “At least I know your father’s talk sunk in. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so affronted by being accused of not using a condom at all. So. The condom broke. Clearly you were aware. Did you not ask her if she was pregnant at the time?”

  I swallow. “She told me as soon as she missed her period. I was with her, waiting in the other room when she took the pregnancy test.”

  A line of tension enters Mom’s shoulders, her jaw clenching and nostrils flaring. “I’m sorry. Did you just say that you knew your girlfriend was pregnant when it happened and you’re just now telling me?”

  I hold out my hands again, this time in supplication. “I’m sorry, Ma,” I say quietly. “I was going to tell you. But Sam decided she didn’t want to keep the baby.”

  “She gave it up?” Tears come to Mom’s eyes, and she sniffs. “We never even got the chance to offer to raise it?”

  “No, Ma. That’s not what I mean. She was going to terminate the pregnancy.”

  “Was?”

  I nod and blow out a breath. “Yeah. Was. That’s what she decided. Then, after I was gone, she changed her mind and didn’t tell me. When she refused to see me that first Christmas break, it was because she was pregnant and didn’t want me to know. That line she fed me about a new boyfriend being jealous of her meeting her ex was bullshit.”

  “Language,” she chides, but it’s automatic. I don’t respond, because she’s clearly thinking, her abstracted gaze on the forgotten cookie dough getting too warm on the table in front of her. Her eyes eventually wander back to mine. “How long have you known? When did you find out?”

  “Two weeks ago.”

  “And you didn’t think I deserved to know then?”

  “I didn’t want to tell you on the phone. I thought it was a conversation better had in person.”

  She stares at me for a long moment, then nods. “Okay. I’ll buy that. How did you find out?”

  I fill her in on everything that happened two weeks ago, passing her my phone with the pictures I asked Sam to send me the other day when I’m done.

  Mom blinks away tears again. “When can I meet her?”

  I should’ve seen that question coming. Sucking in a deep breath, I shake my head as Mom continues staring at the pictures on my phone. “I’m not sure. This is all new for all of us. We’re on break from our tour for the next two months, so I’ll be staying in town and getting to know Maddie. Sam and I have a visitation schedule worked out for the next couple of weeks. But we’re planning on taking things slow for Maddie’s benefit. I’m not even sure if she knows I’m her dad yet.”

  Mom’s gaze sharpens. “What? She hasn’t told her?”

  I shrug. “If she doesn’t know yet, she will the next time I see her.”

  “And when will that be?”

  “The day after Christmas. We decided it would be best for Maddie to have a normal Christmas since I just got back in town. And the first few visits, Sam will be coming with her until Maddie feels comfortable enough with me for us to spend time alone.”

  Mom sets my phone on the table. “Have you talked to a lawyer?”

  I nod. “Blaire got me in touch with the family lawyer that handled Danny’s case. We discussed options and strategy, but since Sam is cooperating, I’m planning on keeping it out of court. The lawyer recommended using a mediator to spell out the details of joint custody in a non-threatening situation. But she stressed that we need to put it in writing for the sake of everyone. If we all agree on the terms and conditions and it’s all spelled out in a contract, then there’s no room for misinterpretation.”

  Mom nods, but she still looks shell shocked.

  Standing, I move closer to her and drop my hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Ma.”

  She covers my hand with hers and looks up at me, then stands and pulls me down for another hug. “Oh, Aaron. Don’t be sorry. I want to meet this new granddaughter. And everyone else will too. But I’m here for you however you need. Okay?”

  At her words, the sick churning sensation calms, and my shoulders drop on my exhale. “Thanks, Ma. You’re the best.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Samantha

  Clutching the gift bag in one sweaty hand and Maddie’s hand in the other, I take a deep breath and march us to the front door of Aaron’s place. It’s nice—no big shock, since he’s a super successful rockstar now—but not ostentatious or crazy. It’s a little row house with red brick going
halfway up the first floor and tan siding completing the rest of his unit. The colors on the row alternate between tan, olive, and a reddish brown that make the whole block look sleek and interesting. It’s newer, and I idly wonder if he bought it or if he’s renting as I raise the hand holding the gift bag to ring the doorbell next to the rich wood door.

  My admiration of the door is cut short by it opening to reveal Aaron wearing worn jeans, his bare toes peeking out from the frayed hem, a faded T-shirt, and a two-day scruff like he couldn’t be bothered to shave over the holidays. He gives me a polite smile that freezes my heart and gestures us inside, closing the door behind us. I hate that we’re reduced to fake politeness when we used to be so much more. The proof of exactly how much more is holding onto my hand and squirming to get inside. She loves visiting people, and was crazy excited when I told her we were coming to visit Mommy’s friend Aaron that we met a couple of weeks ago.

  She immediately insisted on coloring him a picture. Five pictures later—which are all carefully placed into the gift bag along with a few things I remember he liked when we were in high school that I picked up after we agreed to meet again the day after Christmas—I convinced her that was enough. That she could draw him more pictures later.

  “Hi,” I force out.

  Maddie jumps up and down. “Hi, Mommy’s friend!” she shouts, drawing Aaron’s attention.

  The polite smile fades, a pained expression sliding across his face before he crouches down and gives her a genuine smile. “Hey, Maddie. Did you have a good Christmas?”

  She nods enthusiastically, gray eyes wide, sandy hair flying everywhere. “Santa came and brought me Barbies and a new stable for my ponies and another pony and a pony puzzle and some books and a dollhouse.” She says dollhouse with the kind of awed reverence usually reserved for spiritual experiences.

  “Wow. Sounds like you got quite a haul.” He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “Guess what?”

  “What?” she stage whispers back, leaning closer to him.

  “There’s a present for you here too.”

  “Really?” she squeals.

  “Really. It’s right over there.” He points at an end table next to a charcoal gray sofa bearing a tiny tree in a pot with a few glass balls on it. Sitting next to the pot is a present wrapped in red paper with cartoon Santas covering it and a big gold bow in the corner.

  Maddie runs over and snatches it up, her eyes seeking mine. “Can I open it?”

  With a glance at Aaron, who shrugs, I nod. “Go ahead. Let’s see what … Aaron got you.”

  This time my glance at Aaron reveals a new stiffness in his shoulders and the muscles in his jaw clenching. With an internal sigh, I resign myself to the fact that filling Maddie in on who Aaron really is to her is next on the agenda.

  It’s not that I don’t want to tell her. I do. I just don’t know how. That’s not exactly something you can Google for tips. How to deal with tantrums? Sure. Potty training tips? Done that. How to introduce your kid to her absent dad who didn’t know she existed until a few weeks ago?

  I didn’t even know how to search that question. And then I felt stupid for even considering it. Eventually I decided to just wait until the next visit with Aaron to tell her. He should be part of the announcement, since he wants to be part of her life. This can be his induction into the world of parenting.

  Stepping out of the entryway while Maddie tears into the wrapping paper, I set the gift bag down on the light oak coffee table, then shed my coat and fold it over the arm of the couch, leaving my bag on the floor next to it that contains a just-in-case change of clothes for Maddie, a pack of wipes, and a variety of snacks because I have no idea what kind of food Aaron might have here.

  Aaron perches on the other end of the coffee table, watching Maddie open the present he got her. We didn’t discuss presents, so I’m curious what he might’ve gotten.

  With a squeal she pulls the rest of the paper off and holds up a box with a large plush unicorn sticking out of it. “Look, Mommy! Aaron got me a unicorn!”

  “Wow! That’s a big one!” But inside I’m acutely aware of the fact that look sounds like wook when Maddie says it. Normally I don’t think twice about it, but with Aaron watching us, I wonder if he thinks I’m not doing something I should be. Like getting her speech therapy, even though it’s totally normal for a four-year-old to still have the L substitution. That’s one of the last sounds for kids to master, and it’s not a concern unless she still does it when she’s six or so.

  But would Aaron know that?

  He turns his head to look at me, and I brace myself for accusation or irritation. Instead he says, “Is that okay? I wasn’t sure what she was into, but I figured even if she had a stuffed unicorn, it’d be hard to go wrong with another one.”

  “Mommy! Mommy! Open it! Open it!” Maddie demands before I have the chance to answer him and shoves the box into my hands.

  “Clearly she’s thrilled,” I say to him before turning to Maddie. “How do you ask for things?”

  “Pweeeaase, Mommy. Pwease open it for me?”

  With a smile, I drop a kiss on her forehead and sit down on the couch. “Of course. What fun is a new toy if you don’t get to play with it immediately?”

  She claps her hands while I try to wrestle my way into the box. But it’s taped with industrial strength tape I can’t undo. “Do you have scissors or a knife or something?”

  Aaron gets me a kitchen knife, and I manage to extract the unicorn and hand it over to Maddie.

  She immediately hugs it, then starts bouncing it off all the furniture in the room. I hand the knife back to Aaron and start gathering up the trash while he puts it away.

  “You don’t have to do that,” he says when I get back, grabbing up the last few stray bits of wrapping paper from the floor and taking the wadded-up ball from my hand.

  “I’m used to cleaning up after her. It’s no big deal.”

  When he comes back from the kitchen again, now empty-handed, we stare at each other for a long moment. “I was waiting for you to come back to tell her,” I blurt out.

  Surprise flashes on his face before he closes it down and nods, looking at Maddie again. “Okay.”

  I don’t know what I was hoping for, but I guess it was more than a one word answer that tells me nothing. Is that just an acknowledgment of my statement? Does that mean he’s okay with me waiting? Is he mad? Why is he surprised? That I want him here to tell her who he is?

  But he’s the only one who can answer those questions, and the distance between us is too vast for me to be able to ask them, even though he’s only standing a few feet away.

  He watches Maddie talking to and playing with her new toy for a minute before looking back at me. “Can we tell her now?”

  Biting my lip, I nod. I’m dreading this, because I have no idea how Maddie will react. But at the same time, I really just want to get it over with.

  “Come here for a second, Maddie,” I say, sitting down on the couch.

  She stops playing and looks at me. “What?”

  I gesture her closer. “Come here. Aaron and I have something we want to tell you.”

  She eyes us both suspiciously. Then hopefully. “Are there more presents?”

  Aaron chuckles softly, and I shake my head. “No. No more presents right now. But you can give Aaron the present we brought for him in a minute. Would you like that?”

  A smile brightens her face and she nods, detouring to get it from the coffee table on her way to me.

  I take it from her and set it back down. “First we need to tell you something.” I take a deep breath and look at Aaron, who seems to be content to let me run this show. Greeeaat.

  I can’t exactly blame him, though. I’m the one with the parenting experience here. I’m the one who actually knows Maddie. He’s spent like an hour in the same room as her. He shouldn’t be expected to tell her anything.

  Facing Maddie again, I force a bright smile on my face. “You know how Papa
is my daddy?” Maddie nods, her face open and accepting. “Well, Aaron is your daddy.” I say it with all the confidence I can muster, firmly, but also like it’s an everyday occurrence to learn a stranger is your dad. No big deal. Totally normal.

  Her brows draw together, and she looks over at Aaron who’s perched on the arm of the couch. “Aaron’s my daddy? But I don’t have a daddy. My daddy’s gone.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat, forcing the sick feeling down along with it. “Your daddy was gone,” I tell her, emphasizing the was. “But he’s back now. Aaron’s your daddy,” I gesture in his direction, “and he wants to start seeing you more.”

  She looks at him again, her brows still drawn as she looks him over. “You’re my daddy?”

  He scoots down onto the end of the couch and nods. “Yup.” His voice is gravel. He clears his throat. “I didn’t”—his eyes dart to me and back to Maddie—“I couldn’t see you before. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m here now. And I’d like to see you regularly.”

  “See me?” He nods again. “What for?” she asks.

  “He wants to get to know you,” I tell her. “Play with you.”

  Her face brightens. “You want to play with me?”

  At his nod, she reaches for his hand and starts tugging. “Come on! Let’s play!”

  Aaron gives me a bewildered look, and I offer him a smile in return. She drags him to my bag on the end of the couch and unzips it to get out her ponies, handing one to Aaron and keeping the other two for herself, the unicorn from Aaron tucked under her arm as she heads back to the middle of the living room, setting up on the coffee table as their play space.