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I paused, stumped. What came after that? If she was my daughter, should I force my way into their life? I had no intention of disappearing, but I also had no idea how we would go forward.
I threw myself onto the bed. I thought for a second, and then decided, if I couldn't do anything about Deira, then I'd do something about the other woman who had betrayed me.
Michelle picked up after the second ring.
"Cassius? I've been calling, I..."
"I changed my mind," I interrupted her. "I want you out by tomorrow."
"What? But I..."
"It's my house, isn't it?" I asked.
She paused. I could hear her breathing the way she does when she's annoyed.
"Yes," she finally answered.
"And I pay the mortgage, right? You never contributed a cent."
"A mistake I won't be making in future relationships, so thanks for that lesson," she retorted.
"You're welcome. Out by tomorrow," I said.
"Fine!" she replied, and hung up.
I only felt mildly better at the thought of getting back into my own home, but at least it was something.
The next day I returned home after work and, true to her word, Michelle and all her things were gone. I didn't really feel like sleeping in our old bedroom, so I set up shop in one of the guest bedrooms. Mostly, I was happy to have my home office and my private gym back.
After a week, I had settled, more or less, back into my old routine. And yet, something felt off. It wasn't just that I was avoiding the bedroom. I now felt acutely aware of how big the house felt. What had I even been thinking, buying a house like this for just two people? Michelle and I hadn't even broached the marriage topic, let alone kids. Now I regretted it, because the whole place just seemed sparse and empty.
One afternoon, I found myself daydreaming about how one of the spare bedrooms could easily be turned into a kid's bedroom. It would be kind of fun, wouldn't it? Kids like fun stuff. Scott and Emily were always planning for when they'd have kids. They talked a lot about paint colors. I should let Makayla pick whatever paint color she wanted, right? That would make her like me more, I figured.
I suddenly caught myself, and shook my head. I didn't even know for sure that she was mine, and here I was, planning some sort of future for her, for us, together.
I told myself that I just wasn't used to having the whole house to myself, and that she was on my mind because the whole issue remained unresolved. It wasn't helpful to sit here imagining any sort of future, though.
I decided what I needed was a good workout. I changed my clothes and went to the gym. I started with a run on the treadmill and then a stint on the rowing machine, but I kept finding my mind drawn back to Makayla and Deira. I needed something with a little more impact, so I pulled on my boxing gloves and squared up opposite my punching bag.
I closed my eyes, centered myself, and tried to only think about the punch I was about to throw.
I opened my eyes and threw it. The punch landed on the bag with a satisfying smack.
I hit the bag again, and again, getting into a rhythm. It felt good, but not as good as usual. I couldn't lose myself in it like I usually did. I kept at it for another ten minutes or so, but it was no use. I finally tore off my gloves and threw them away. I stumbled to the wall and leaned against it, breathing hard. I was almost out of breath, drenched in sweat, and yet I hadn't been able to exorcise the turmoil of emotions inside me. The confusion at my whole life being turned on its head with this one piece of information, the anger at Deira for having hid it from me, the frustration at not being able to find her... and on top of all that, the sense of shame that I had somehow let down this daughter that I hadn't even known existed.
If she would have told me, I thought,I would have made their lives so much easier.
Maybe she couldn't find you to tell you,a more rational part of my mind responded.
"Well, she should have tried harder," I said out loud to the empty gym.
Maybe she didn't want to find you.
This was the thought I kept trying to bury, but it kept working its way to the surface.
She had no reason to think I'd be a bad father. But then again, she had no reason to think I'd be a good father. I had no reason to think I'd be a good father, after all. My own father had been distant and largely absent; my mother, judgmental and repressed. I'd removed myself from their care as soon as possible, and told myself I'd never have a family like that.
And yet, that was just what had happened, and I had been powerless to stop it because I hadn't even known. I felt another hot surge of anger towards Deira. I knew that it was illogical to demand that she have been able to find me, when I had been unable to find her. All I had wanted was to reconnect after our night together. What she had to tell me was far more important!
