by Nikki Ash
Placing her in her bassinet, I press the button that allows it to sway, knowing it will eventually lull her to sleep.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I watch her in awe and think of Rosario, my earlier conversation with Evie returning him to the front of my mind.
I don’t know how other single parents have felt, but it’s moments like this when I feel so lonely. I mean, parenting is hard, but that’s to be expected and it doesn’t impact or effect the way I feel about her.
What it does do, though, is make me wish I could share these moments with someone.
No.
Not someone.
With him.
The whole experience has made me irrationally pine for Rosario. Both as my lover and as her father.
The loss aches a little more knowing that he would probably be an amazing dad. He would dote on her and love her the way she deserves.
And then there’s Chad. He showed up just as I passed the twelve-week mark and my baby bump was clearly visible. He didn't even hiccup at the fact that I was pregnant with another man's baby, which really should be applauded, but honestly, it just made me hate him even more.
I know he’s got a list of transgressions a mile long, but he was almost ambivalent about it all, and maybe it was because he had more difficulty connecting with a baby that was not physically in our arms yet. But something told me he had been kicked to the curb, and he’s now scared to be alone.
Or maybe he’s trying to pay penance for good Karma. Either way, I’m not here for it. He buys groceries, helps me clean up, but I don’t let him go anywhere near Alessia.
He doesn’t touch her, bottle feed her, or put her to bed. She is one hundred and ten percent my responsibility, and something in the back of my mind tells me that Rosario wouldn’t appreciate another man attending to his child before he’d even been given a chance to meet her. Or even after that. And for an unexplainable reason, I want to respect what I think Rosario’s wishes would be.
It makes no difference to my rationalizing that he doesn’t even know about Alessia. Because my gut tells me one day he will. It might not be today, or tomorrow, or even next week.
But if the universe could align once, I truly believe it could do it again.
Feeling brave, I wait for Alessia’s eyes to close, and with my cell in my hand, I walk out of the room and pull up the number I managed to wrangle off Liza.
I wait for the ring, but like all the other times I’ve tried, it never comes; however, instead of the recording letting me know the phone is off and the mailbox is full, the recording now informs me that this number is completely out of operation.
Crestfallen and a little defeated, I sigh into an empty house.
I didn’t really anticipate ever being a single mom, or having a one-night stand in the first place. And while I don’t necessarily have regrets about Alessia, I realize with that last phone call, I probably should have done things differently.
I probably shouldn’t have run at the crack of dawn.
Maybe I should have run but still left him my number.
Maybe we should’ve made actual plans before falling asleep, or I at least should’ve waited for him to wake up.
I should’ve given him the opportunity to have a say.
I should’ve and I could’ve and I would’ve.
So many things that I should’ve done, but now it all feels too late.
Now I have this beautiful little girl, who is nothing short of perfect with her ten fingers and ten toes and rosy red cheeks, and I don't know how to get to him.
It’s this moment that Chad walks through the door, and the sight of him turns my stomach.
What am I doing?
My daughter has a father. Correction. Our daughter has a father, and she needs her father.
Not this man. Not a replacement. Not a half-assed version of the dad I know Rosario could be.
“Hey,” Chad greets me cautiously “Are you okay?”
I shake my head at him. “We need to talk.”
Chapter Six
Rosario
When you’re always on the move, you don’t think you need anything extravagant to survive. You teach yourself how to sleep anywhere and know that everyone around you couldn’t care less when the last time you showered was.
But as I wake up after a full night’s sleep for the sixth week in a row in my own bed, I know it’s one of the many lies we tell ourselves to survive that lonely military life.
It’s been a long and agonizing ten months. Originally, I was only supposed to be gone for six, but an operation gone wrong added another four months that I wasn’t mentally prepared for.
Being a Marine wasn’t something I ever had second thoughts about. I had felt the need to serve my country for as long as I could remember, and when I was old enough to do so, there was absolutely nothing that could stop me.
What I didn’t anticipate was all the things I would have to choose between and all the things I would lose along the way.
Including my marriage.
While in hindsight I can see my military life wasn’t the sole reason it ended, it still played a very big part. Lately, I found myself both resenting it and loving the very thing that defined me. Hating the way it had stolen my wife, but grateful when it became my only consistent companion after she was gone.
The vibration of my phone against my wooden nightstand interrupts my thoughts. Reaching for it, I bring the screen closer to my face, not recognizing the number in front of me. Thanks to an accident overseas, I spent the majority of my time there without a cell phone and only able to contact my family through email.
It wasn’t too much of a hassle considering there’s usually no service for your cell anyway, and the cost to call home is only worth it in an emergency. When on base, we often get allocated Wi-Fi hours, and thankfully that allowed me to tell my parents and siblings that I was safe for the majority of the time.
But since being back home, my usual struggle with being readily available for people to contact me all the time has been amplified by the need for a new phone and distribution of my new number. The longer I’m away, the harder I always find it to connect back to my life at home. It’s something civilians have a hard time understanding, namely my family.
The phone keeps ringing, so I swipe at the screen and bring it to my ear.
“Hello,” I answer groggily.
“You’re still asleep?” Thankfully, I recognize my mother’s voice immediately and don’t have to play any guessing games about who’s on the other side of the line. “I was hoping you could come over for dinner this weekend. The whole family is coming.”
I’ll forever wonder why my mother calls to “invite” me, when the only option I have unless I’m away is to attend.
“Yeah, Ma. It should be fine.”
“What do you mean? Is it a yes or a no, Rio?”
“No,” I tease.
“So, I’ll see you Sunday for lunch then?”
A sleep infused chuckle leaves my mouth. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Okay, good. Now tell me how you’re doing. What’s new?”
I indulge my mother in conversation, talking about what’s been going on while I’ve been gone while she babbles on about setting me up with some good Italian girls.
“I’m not interested, Mom,” I argue, while simultaneously putting my mother on speakerphone and tapping away at my phone till I open the file I’m looking for.
I scroll through the photos that have graced my inbox for the last ten months and stare at the only woman I’ve been interested in since my ex-wife.
Flicking through the photos Liza sent me of Blake and me for the millionth time and wondering why the fuck she fled from the room before either of us had the chance to talk. Before we even had the chance to entertain the idea of making plans.
It’s pathetic and borderline obsessive, but that night, and the memory of being inside her, was one of the only things I clung to when I was away. I haven’t been ab
le to shake off how strong the connection was between us.
I’ve toyed with the idea of possibly looking for her, but doubt is a motherfucker, reminding me she left for a reason, and I still have a whole host of baggage I need to deal with before I pursue something with Blake.
She doesn’t know I’m in the military, and a small niggling voice in the back of my head worries that she changed her mind and she looked for me, only to come up empty-handed. Another reason how being a Marine has failed me.
My mind returns to my mother’s voice, leaving behind the pros and cons list I seem to always spend too much time making when it comes to Blake.
The sobering truth is that she probably walked out of that room and didn’t even give what we shared a second thought.
You know that’s not true.
Ignoring the thought, I wrap up the call with my mom, telling her I’ll be there on Sunday with bells on.
I continue to fuck around on my phone after she’s gone, deleting the majority of emails that accumulated while I was asleep and filing others away for another time. My eyes catch on an email from Liza, the subject reading “Alessia.” Since the photo shoot, Liza has kept my email on her database, constantly sending specials and any exciting news she thinks is relevant to her clientele.
Call me crazy, but I’ve never had the heart to unsubscribe. It takes me back to that moment, just confirming that it wasn’t a figment of my imagination.
But something about the subject of this email hits a little differently. It’s basically a variation of my middle name. Did she mean to send it to me?
Clicking on it, my eyes scan the email, and I feel my whole world tilt on its axis.
Is this for real?
Blake,
Here are the newborn photos of Alessia, tell me which ones you want to keep, and I’ll bundle them up in a digital package for you, with one large print.
Thanks for letting me photograph her, she’s gorgeous.
Liza.
I read the email again and again, before it registers that there are actual photos attached to the email. My hand freezes, hovering over the screen, wanting to scroll down but scared to see. And suddenly I feel like I can’t breathe. Like my skin is on fire and my lungs are so full they’re going to explode.
Blake had a baby? And named her Alessia? After me?
Overwhelmed by a plethora of unanswered questions, I toss my phone onto the mattress and pace around my room, wearing a hole in the carpet. I close my eyes and try to count my breaths before I send myself into a panic attack. Thoughtfully, I count to one hundred and then try to count backward. Working on inhaling and exhaling slowly.
How did this happen?
“Okay. You can do this. You need to do this,” I tell the empty room. “You’re a Marine for fuck’s sake. Get your fucking shit together.”
Reaching my bed, I stretch for my cell, grabbing it and going straight back into the email. I sit down, and my leg bounces in anticipation. Scrolling, I press on one of the attachments and wait for the first photo to load.
I don’t know what I expected, but a baby that is so obviously mine wasn’t it. I cover my mouth with my hand and stifle the strained sob threatening to escape. She’s a replica of every baby photo I’ve ever seen of myself, with her olive coloring and full head of brown hair that’s decorated with an adorable looking headband. She’s wrapped in a waffle blanket and sleeping so peacefully in what looks like a tin wash bucket.
She’s everything.
Sliding my finger across the screen, I get lost in the hoard of photos Liza has sent, my heart aching from how much I feel from just simply looking at her. Tears born of fear and anxiety stream down my face.
I say a prayer to myself. Over and over, hoping this is going to be as simple as me finding them and the three of us just being a family.
Because that’s all I want. Everything else will work itself out.
It has to, because she’s it for me.
They both are.
The surprising thing about trying to locate Blake was realizing we’d been under one another’s noses the whole time. Living less than forty minutes away, it’s no time at all to mentally try and prepare myself for every possible scenario between us.
I’ve been sitting on this information, wanting to discuss everything with her before I tell a single soul, and it’s been eating me alive not being able to tell anyone about Alessia.
I’ve cleared my schedule, and I found a little motel close by that I can crash at if I need to.
While there’s no denying I want to spend every moment with them, I don’t want to overwhelm them with my presence to the point that Blake then feels the need to push me away.
I’m still a stranger, after all.
Once I’d processed that Blake and I had a daughter, I called Liza and reminded her who I was. Surprisingly, she said she never forgot about Blake and me and was sad to see we hadn’t reconnected.
When I told her she sent me Alessia’s photos, she blanched. Cursing and apologizing for the mistake, unknowingly confirming that the baby photos were in fact of my daughter.
I didn’t tiptoe around the bullshit and flat out asked her for Blake’s number.
Initially, she hesitated, but something eventually made her give it to me and I’d never been more grateful in my entire life.
Instead of calling, I gave the number to a friend of mine who was able to locate her exact address. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have over the phone, and I didn’t want to risk being stood up, especially after what happened the night we were together.
I didn’t know her headspace then, and I was certain I didn’t know it now. But I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t want to trap her, but I also don’t want her to run.
When I reach her block of apartments, it takes me a while to find street parking. When the car is parked and turned off, I just sit there like a weirdo, second guessing everything I’ve done up until this point.
Rubbing my hands together, I tug the sun visor down and take a quick look at myself in the mirror. Not really sure what I’m expecting, I give myself a little shrug, flip it back up, and exit the car.
It’s now or never.
I open up the notes app on my phone and make sure I have the right place. When I’m on the third floor, I head for her door and quickly knock before I lose my nerve. A whole minute passes, and I can feel the panic rising up in my chest.
Feeling antsy, I make the decision to stay for one more minute before returning to my car. I look down at my watch, and just as the digital number changes, the door finally opens.
I raise my head, and I’m met with a very different, but equally distracting, version of the woman I met all those months ago.
She looks freshly showered with her rosy cheeks and wet hair. She’s wearing a loose button-up shirt that swallows her delectable frame and leggings that are like a second skin covering her shapely legs. Even dressed down, Blake is breathtaking.
“Hey,” I say cautiously.
Her eyes widen, and I prepare myself for some kind of backlash, but when she throws herself at me, I don’t even hide the relief that washes over me as I wrap my arms around her, bringing her close to me.
With her head buried in my chest, her body shudders against mine in one huge sob, and there isn’t a single part of me that doesn’t want to make whatever it is better.
“Shhh,” I soothe, running my fingers through her damp hair. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, you’re okay.”
Not wanting to stand in the middle of the public hallway, I bend at the knees and lift her up in my arms, carrying her in a fireman’s hold into her apartment.
Finding the nearest couch, I gently place her down, then go back and close the apartment door.
As soon as the lock clicks, a loud wail fills the room. Blake’s body stiffens and worry is written all over her face as she watches for my reaction.
I don’t give anything away, even though every fiber of my being is being pulled toward
the sound. I stare at her, waiting to see what she does or what she’s going to say.
Instead, she rises to her feet and leaves me alone in the middle of the room. The way the hum of her voice immediately soothes the crying baby has me following her footsteps, no longer willing to just be a spectator. I walk toward the sound and step into a beautifully decorated nursery.
My heart tugs two ways, grateful that there’s nothing my daughter doesn’t have, but pained that I wasn’t the one to provide for her.
Blake turns to face me, Alessia over her shoulder while she comfortingly rubs at her back.
“You know, don’t you,” she deadpans. “What took you so long?”
I nod, my eyes darting between the two people who, in a matter of days, have become the most important people in my life.
“What took you so long?” she asks again.
My face scrunches up in confusion. Excuse me? “What do you mean what took me so long? I only found out three days ago.”
She cocks her head to the side. “So you didn’t get my email?”
A little irritated that we can’t seem to find common ground, I step closer. “Can we talk about this later?” My gaze moves down to Alessia. “Can I hold her?”
Blake’s face softens, and the mood between us shifts. She glances down at the calm baby and then back at me. “Yes. Of course.”
With her hand supporting the back of Alessia’s neck, she lifts her off her shoulder and cradles her in her arms. I mirror the action and she places her across my forearms.
Emotion clogs my throat while my heart grows infinitely bigger for the small baby in my arms.
“Rosario,” Blake whispers. “I’d like you to meet Alessia Rosario.”
My head snaps up at her full name, my eyes filling with tears. “You named her after me?”
A beautiful, blinding smile spreads across Blake’s face. “Of course. She’s yours.”
Chapter Seven
Blake
I don’t know what brought him to my front door, or how he found out about Alessia, but watching him as he reverently watches his daughter for the first time irrevocably changes me.
