I take a deep breath and text him the address of my favorite brunch place.
“Hey… Pumpkin.” Jeremy stands up as I approach and gives me a tentative hug.
“Pumpkin?”
He slides back into the booth. “I’m trying new nicknames. Since someone doesn’t like the old ones.”
I don’t sit down. I haven’t decided whether or not I’m staying. If it’s gonna be like this, there’s no point. I don’t need to feel shame for not liking the nicknames he gave me.
“Sorry,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That didn’t come out right. Please sit.”
His face is earnest, and there’s a slight curve to his shoulders that isn’t normal for him. He’s clean-shaven and just as put together as always, but there are dark circles under his eyes.
I sit down, deciding to hear him out, but I keep my purse on my shoulder, the weight calming.
Jeremy straightens his silverware, then reaches for mine to do the same before stopping himself. He wraps both hands around the empty diner coffee mug. “I want to apologize. It was pretty clear the last time we talked that I’d misread our entire relationship. I knew you were angry, but I thought it was just about the affair.”
“It’s notnotabout the affair.” I cringe at my use of the double negative.
“I know. And I’ll get to that.” He lets go of the mug and folds his hands on the table. “They don’t hand out manuals when you have a kid, you know?” His chuckle dies out abruptly. “I thought being a dad meant certain things. Making sure your kids behaved in certain ways. Helping them when they needed help. Toughening them up for sending them out into the world. I didn’t know?—”
“Sorry about the wait. Coffee?” A bubbly waitress comes over, holding a coffee pot. I turn my cup over and wait for her to fill it. Jeremy does the same. After pouring our coffee, she looks between the two of us. “So, what can I get you?”
“We’ll split the—” Jeremy cuts himself off, wrinkling the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Uh, sorry. I should have asked what you wanted.” He looks back at the waitress with a tight smile. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
Once she walks away, I tear a piece of the napkin and roll it into a ball between my fingers. Jeremy takes a drink of ice water. The bell over the door chimes as a family walks in, laughing together about something. Dishes clatter in the kitchen, the smell of bacon grease and coffee perfuming the air.
“I’m used to a certain power dynamic,” Jeremy says, “as I’m sure you know. People at work listen to me. They defer to me. I assumed parenting was like managing employees. I approached the whole parenting thing like a mentorship of sorts, like you were an apprentice I had to toughen up.”
I tear off another chunk of napkin and roll a second tight ball.
“Parenting isn’t like that, though,” he continues. “I should have realized that sooner. Treating you like a subordinate didn’t make you stronger, baby girl. It made you doubt yourself. I made you doubt yourself.”
I really didn’t want to cry today, but it’s too late now. I wipe my cheeks with the back of my hand, sniffle, and take a hasty sip of coffee.
The waitress eases up to our table, like she doesn’t want to interrupt, but she’s too impatient to wait longer. “You figure out your orders?”
“I’ll have the egg white omelet.” Jeremy holds his hand out in my direction, signaling me to order for myself.
I’m feeling so many conflicting emotions at once, I’m not sure I want to stay through a meal. But Jeremy is waiting. So is the waitress.
“A side of sourdough toast,” I say, the words rough against the tightness in my throat.
“Coming right up.” She spins on her toes and heads toward the kitchen.
We’re both quiet as we watch her leave. I’m not really sure what to say.
“There’s something more.” Jeremy straightens his already straight silverware again. “I wasn’t very good at handling your emotions, but I also wasn’t very good at handling my own. I said I didn’t divorce your mom when,” he swallows, “I started seeing Mary because I didn’t want to hurt you and wanted you to grow up in a stable fam?—”
“Lying isn’t stability.”
“I know. I know.” He takes a sip of water and wipes the condensation with his napkin. “But that’s not the whole truth of why I kept up both relationships. I’ve always hated conflict. I handle it by taking control so completely that there’s no arguing, or by holding things back, not being completely honest.”
This admission shocks me more than the others because I understand it. I’ve never thought I had anything in common with Jeremy, but he’s as much of a people-pleaser as I am.
I keep myself hidden and avoid showing people the whole mess of me, because I don’t want to get hurt or face the inevitable conflict. I turn silent.
He becomes charming and hides behind a perfect image. One I regularly broke.
