The problem is his profession and his ability to stick around for Lenni.The demanding job of a professional hockey player creates issues around stability and doesn’t really support healthy relationships.How can it when players are on the road more than nine months out of every year?
I experienced that as a kid with my own father, who was rarely at home.It was my mom who kept our family together, and after she died, that responsibility fell to me.
I’ve never wanted that for my daughter.It’s not fair to Lennon or, frankly, to me.
I blink down at the screen, noticing it shake in my hand.My stomach is in knots and the pizza we ate for dinner is threatening to come back up.
I’m scared to read his next words.
I’m terrified of the consequences that the truth will create in our lives.
The text finally appears, and I want to climb into my bed and bury my head under the covers, ignore his question like it’s a pile of dirty laundry.
Hockey Boy: Is Lennon my daughter?
I stare down at those four words for what feels like forever, lost in the situation that has finally been realized and come to light.The fork in the road that clearly delineates a turning point in our lives.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s figured it out.It doesn’t take a detective to see they share a similarity in features and must be related in some way or another.Although I’ve never seen baby photos from Dane’s childhood, I’d venture to guess Lenni is a mirror image of him at this age.
How do I respond and begin this conversation that will inevitably change all our lives?
I flick my gaze over my shoulder and watch Lenni, who is now sitting with her knees bent, her toy perched at the top of her skinny legs as she makes it swan-dive into the water below.
My heart clenches at the realization that whatever I say, there will be consequences.Consequences that will be everlasting and change the course of Lenni’s life forever.
I lean over and place a kiss on top of her wet head, breathing in the sweet scent of baby shampoo, seeking some kind of solace before I open up Pandora’s box.
And then I type out my response.
14
Dane
“Bruh, what’s up with you today?”
I sit up from the workout bench, where I’ve just done an exhausting set of chest presses, and reach for my plastic water bottle, squirting some in my mouth.Costa, who is my spotter today, grabs the bottle from my hand and douses me with a deluge across my pecs.
“Fuck me, what’s that for, you douche?”I wipe the mess away with the towel that’s slung around my neck and give him a dirty look.
With our stretch of games at home this week, today is a strength and conditioning day.The next game is coming up on Thursday night.
“You’re acting weird lately,” he observes—rather correctly—nudging my head with his fist.“Weirder than usual.And if I didn’t know how careful you are when you hook up, I’d think maybe you’d just learned you knocked somebody up.”
I start coughing and sputtering wildly, the water I just sucked down spilling from the corners of my mouth and dribbling down my chin.
Jesus, is he a mind reader?Are my thoughts written all over my face?
Although technically, I’m still in the dark on the whole situation.Halle’s response had been vague.The only thing I know with absolute certainty is that she will give me the story when we meet up at lunch today.
Cherry: Yes, we should chat.But not now.
Cherry: Lunch tomorrow.Meet me at the Ale House.12:30 p.m.
I don’t know what I expected when I so blatantly asked if I’m Lennon’s dad in a text.It wasn’t exactly the most tactful approach to pose the question.I suppose, if I put myself in her shoes, answering yes or no right then wasn’t really an option.I’m sure there’s more to the story and I do feel bad for putting her on the spot like that.
But it was driving me batshit crazy wondering if I somehow got Halle pregnant five years ago.
We were careful during sex.I knew back then I didn’t want to have a kid when I was so young myself.I had too much going for me to have that additional responsibility.And like Costa said, I’ve always been vigilant with protection when hooking up.
