Or is it?
Am I Lennon’s father?
13
Halle
After sending my dad off this morning with lots of waves goodbye and the sad whimpering tears from one very unhappy granddaughter, Lenni and I kept busy the rest of the day getting some chores done and exploring Vancouver.
Since we’ve been having gorgeous fall weather, we decided to check out Stanley Park.Lenni especially loved the rose gardens and walking along the Seawall, where people biked, walked, and ran around the waterfront.It was a new experience for both of us to smell the briny scent of the English Bay in the air and listen to the squawk of seagulls as they flew overhead before diving into the lapping waves to catch their food.
Bedtime came too fast by Lenni’s estimation.While she takes her evening bath, I sit perched on the edge of the old porcelain tub and watch her play with the new rubber sea lion we picked up at one of the souvenir shops.
“Mama, where do baby sea lions come from?”she asks thoughtfully, dipping the toy underneath the waterline and then letting it go to pop back up to the surface.
“From their mommies’ tummies, just like human babies.”
She turns her attention to me, water dripping down the side of her cheek.I reach over and catch the water droplet with my fingers.
“Is that where I came from?Your tummy?”
I nod.“Yep.You were right in here.”I rub my lower stomach, which had been distended to the size of a basketball while I was pregnant with her.
Lenni squints in concentration.“How did I get out?”
I consider my response, not wanting to go too far in the details and end up freaking her out.These types of things can be a bit traumatizing for little kids, not to mention adding a string of questions sure to follow.
“Well, when a baby is ready to be born, a mommy goes into what’s called labor and has to go to the hospital.”
Lenni’s mouth puckers in anO.She lifts the bath toy in the air and examines it, flipping it over in her slick hands.I’m waiting for her follow-up question when my phone pings with a message notification.
It’s probably either my dad or Carm with their daily check-in.I reach toward where it sits on the top of the bathroom vanity, where I had put it earlier so it’d be out of the way of any splashing water.
But the phone nearly slips from my fingers when I see who it’s from.I blink down at the contact name on the display.
Hockey Boy.
Son of a biscuit.That’s not who I thought I’d get a message from tonight.
What the hell does he want?
Nope.
I don’t care.
I set the phone back down on the edge of the counter and peer at Lenni to make sure she’s okay, my head whirling over what Dane could possibly want with me.
My curiosity gets the best of me, and I know it will eat away at me if I don’t read that text this instant.I grab the phone again and tap the message box displaying his name, tentatively scanning it like it’s a snake ready to strike.
Although I had blocked his number for self-preservation after he was drafted, hoping it would save me from any pregnancy hormone slip-ups, I had unblocked it when Lenni was about two.At the time, she’d fallen and we thought she had a broken arm.When we went to the hospital, I was concerned I might need to know her father’s blood type, which meant I’d have to reach out to him.
Now as I stare at the phone and message, I wonder if I should’ve blocked it again.
Hockey Boy: Hey Cherry.Is this still your number?
Lenni splashes in the water, and some of it sluices over the edge, hitting my bare feet.At the shock of both the water and the surprise text, I screech out in surprise, my attention drawn away from the additional texts that I hear ping, one after the other.I put the phone back on the counter’s edge.
“Are you okay, Mama?”Lenni asks worriedly.I raise my eyes and give her a gentle smile.
