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Before we knew it, the barista was approaching us, letting us know the café was closing in fifteen minutes. We had been, by this point, fully immersed in our conversation, and not ready to end our encounter just then.
“You’re more than welcome to come to my place,” I invited, without pausing to consider whether I was being overly forward.
But she shook her head politely. “I would, but… I have to get home already.”
She didn’t offer any further elaboration, but I pressed no further. “I understand. Well, at least let me give you a ride to your place, as a humble display of my forgiveness.”
She blushed, contemplating the proposal. “Well… I suppose that would be nice. Thank you, I appreciate it a lot.” She smiled at me, and I smiled in return. Then we left the café together, so close our shoulders were almost touching.
She insisted her apartment wasn’t too far from the café, and, with her vocal guidance, we arrived ten minutes later.
“Thanks again,” Natalie said, turning to face me. She seemed slightly on edge, but maybe I was just reading into things.
“My pleasure,” I responded. Just then there was a comfortable silence, a silence so comfortable I thought it might be an invitation to lean in and kiss her, but I waited a few moments longer, just to make sure I wasn’t misreading.
“Mommy!” came an eager shout from somewhere outside the car.
Instinctually I jolted back; Natalie was sitting upright in her seat, mortified.
“Sophie, get back in here!” came another shout, presumably from an adult woman, from somewhere farther away.
I turned to Natalie, hoping she might explain the scene at hand, but as I rotated, I found she was stepping out of the car. She swooped down, out of my line of sight, before re-emerging over the lip of the car door to reveal she was carrying what appeared to be a young girl, whose hair was dirty blonde and whose eyes were blue like Natalie’s.
“Sorry about that, Nat—” came the earlier voice. Then, in a more subdued tone, “Is that the guy?”
I stepped out of the car, suddenly beholding the entire scene: Natalie, with a child in her arms, turned toward another woman who was around her age. Natalie turned suddenly, looking at me as if in a panic. Words failed her just then.
“Nice to meet you—I’m Alejandra,” offered the other woman, breaking the silence. “I was just helping Natalie out with Sophie.”
I turned wordlessly toward Natalie. “Is she—”
“Yes,” interrupted Natalie. “Lucas, this is my daughter, Sophie.”
“Hello, mister!” yelled Sophie.
“H—hello,” I stammered. I felt blindsided, unsure of how to continue.
“Here, I’ll take Sophie in…” offered Alejandra, scooping Sophie into her arms before Natalie could protest and retreating toward the apartment behind them, where the door remained ajar.
“So, is the dad… in the picture at all?” I asked, choosing my words carefully.
Natalie shook her head. “Nope. Never has been, never will.” She turned back, looking wistfully at the apartment. “It’s just the two of us.”
I nodded, unsure still of what to say. “You’re strong,” I finally managed, although I regretted it the moment I said it—it sounded so cliché, and she deserved better than that. And so I continued. “It may not feel like it, but you need to remember you are. Single mothers are among the strongest of us all, carrying the weight of a family on their backs, without complaint or contempt. They keep going,youkeep going, with the understanding that at the end of the day, your child’s future is something worth fighting for. And that’s a beautiful thing.”
She was silent, then, after a moment said, “Thank you,” she responded. “I hope this doesn’t change things between us.”
I looked up at her, returning from my distracted state. “Of course not, no, not at all.” I squeezed her shoulder. “Promise.”
She looked at me, and it felt as if something clicked. Suddenly her eyes were clear, as though a fog had lifted and I was seeing her, and she was seeing me, more clearly than ever. “Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate you, Lucas, really. And thanks for the ride.”
“Don’t mention it,” I said, and then I waited silently for a beat, to see if she would move in to kiss me again, but she didn’t, and so I returned to the driver’s seat and, within a matter of seconds, was driving away, my head full of thoughts.
A single mother? It was something I just couldn’t wrap my head around—not that the demographic was so anomalous, but there had been no mention of any man at any point during our hours-long conversation. She’d touched on an ex, briefly, but from the way she declared the father’s absence so resolutely, it seemed unlikely the father was someone with whom she’d had any recent contact. And yet, the more I thought about it, the less sense it made. Who was this mystery man, who could be so foolish as to leave a woman like Natalie? And to leave behind not only Natalie, but a young girl as happy and healthy as Sophie appeared to be? Sophie was Natalie’s daughter, no doubt—she had the same hair color and eyes. Had she been the product of a one-night stand, a fling-gone-wrong? Did the father evenknowhe had a daughter? Impossible to say. The more questions I asked, the more emerged, until the only thing I knew for sure was that I knew nothing of the situation.
And did it change things? Of course—it had to. But not for the reasons one might think. As I’d told Natalie, I respected single mothers, and was myself rather fond of kids. I’d always wanted some of my own, one day, if ever I found the right person. But paternity was, I thought, not unlike a yo-yo; just as easily as a father could leave the picture, he could return to it, laying his claim to the child as if not a second had passed and he were entirely in the right. I’d seen it happen a few times—not with family or friends, but with family friends, friends of friends—men who were fathers by biology alone, who had stepped out on their wives and children only to return years later, having made up their mind that they were ready to accept the responsibility. And yet, what if no such thing occurred? What if the father was, much like Natalie had declared, totally out of the picture, with no intention of re-joining it? What would that mean for the two of us—would I step into their lives, not only as a lover, but as a father as well? The very thought scared as well as excited me. I was old enough to assume both roles, after all, and though I didn’t know Natalie as well as I’d like, there was an unspoken sensation alerting me to the fact that she was as special as I suspected, perhaps more.
And so, I would take Natalie at her word, and let down my guard some. I would make myself comfortable around Sophie, seeing her as she truly was, not as a reminder of a long-lost lover, but as an extension of Natalie, oh, Natalie, whom I so cherished and adored.
