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Still, every family has its problems. Mine values work over everything else. Even happiness.
“Say no more. You haven’t taken a vacation in how long? How about I move all of your patients for this week? It won’t be too hard. Noelle and you can get away. I’m sure he would love a chance to see everyone one last time. Then he’ll be all mine, and he doesn’t have work as an excuse anymore.”
“Are you sure Dad’ll be okay with that?” I ask. I can’t remember the last time Fred or Mom said it was okay to rest. When Noelle and I planned a Hawaii trip last year, my stepdad complained for four months straight, saying he hadn’t taken a vacation in thirty years.
My mom rolled her eyes whenever he got on his high horse, because all she wanted was to travel. She was the one who encouraged my dental missions to Costa Rica and convinced Dad it was a good look for our practice.
“I’m getting nice in my old age,” she says. “Go somewhere. Reconnect with Noelle. Just be home by Saturday for Fred’s party.”
“Will do.” Another lie. Instead of reconnecting with Noelle, I’m taking this week to reconnect with the mother of my child.
My mother promises to apologize to my patients and let Dad know. Slipping my phone back into my pocket, I hover near the entrance.
I told her, “You know my dad left and Fred is great and all, the absolute best. Who knows where I would be without him. It’s just…”
“You want to be the father you didn’t have,” she finished my sentence.
“Exactly,” I said, looking into her eyes.
Emily knew this about me and she kept our child a secret, and I became what I hated.
I became an absentee father.
The woman I fell in love with betrayed me.
Maybe I never knew her at all.
Even though I have the best stepdad a guy could ask for, I never forgot the man I’m one-half of disappearing, not caring if I was dead or alive. My mother loved him with her whole soul, and sometimes she looks off into space, and I wonder if she’s thinking of him.
There’s a reason I don’t crack myself open. This hurts even more than keeping myself shut.
When I walk back inside, Emily looks up as I walk to her. I pull out the chair and sit down, placing the napkin across my lap.
“I’ll be staying in town for a little bit. So we have time.”
“Great. That’s wonderful.” Emily hesitates. “Do you have a place to stay tonight?”
“No. What kind of accommodations are around here?” Logistics is a safe topic. It will keep me from getting emotional.
Emily contemplates for a moment. “If you want, I have a tiny house on my property. My brother used to live there, but he recently moved out with his wife. It’s summer, so it might be tough to find a place to stay in town.”
I don’t question it. If I’m on her property, she can’t run away again. “That would be great.”
“Great.” She raises the glass again to drain it and then drops it to the table. “I’m not very hungry.”
“Me either,” I say although my stomach feels like it will turn inside out. I grabbed a breakfast burrito this morning, but after the excitement of seeing Emily and now the shock, I can’t fathom eating anything right now.
“My daughter will be there, but I’d prefer you don’t meet her until tomorrow. I want to set it up so it’s not an ambush.”
“I understand.” I lean back into the chair, staring at my drink. I look at her, and I can’t read her expression. Is she excited? Is she mad she couldn’t keep this secret forever?
Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes glassy. She smiles, but her lips drop to a downturn.
“Better late than never, right?”
“Right,” I say, my lips tight from this conversation. I crumple the napkin from my lap and throw it on my empty plate. “I’m done.”
“Are you mad?” she asks.
