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“I didn’t tell you about Knox—not because I didn’t think you would want her but because I didn’t intend on keeping her. I never wanted to be a mother. I didn’t think I would be any good at it,” I confess, afraid to see his reaction. I’m not sure my timing is right in telling him that I had intended on giving his daughter to another family without his knowing, but in the spirit of honesty, I feel like it needed to be said. What’s the worst that could happen? He’s already angry with me.
He looks at me, his blue eyes transitioning from calm to anger. I regret saying it now. I enjoyed the calm.
“You weren’t going to keep her?” His jaw is stiff.
“I had it all lined up. The adoption. I had picked this amazing family.” I have no idea why I’m giving him more details. It’s obvious he’s angry, and I don’t think he wants to know all of the thought that I put behind giving our daughter away.
“I can’t believe you would even consider doing that, Rach. She wasn’t just yours to give away.” He’s accusing. Disappointed. I don’t blame him, but I think he’s missing the point.
“I didn’t do it, J.R.,” I say defensively. “As soon as she was born—the moment she entered the world—when I heard her crying, I knew she was mine. I knew that I couldn’t just give her to someone else.”
J.R. sits up a little straighter, and he slides his hands through his hair. “I haven’t even decided if I can forgive you for keeping her from me all of these years, but now to know you were actually going to give her away? Rach, did I even know you?”
“Don’t say that,” I whisper, sitting up. “You knew me. You know me.”
“You just left. No note. Nothing. If your clothes hadn’t been gone, I would have thought you had been abducted. You find out you're pregnant with my kid, and you don’t give me a single thought. You don’t even give me a choice. Now, I find out you were just going to give my kid to another family.”
“I thought I was doing the right thing, J.R. I’ve already explained this to you. I was messed up!” I exclaim.
“You didn’t trust me, Rach.”
I trusted him. It was me I didn’t trust. I could talk myself into being content all day long, but then, out of nowhere, my mother’s voice, disguised as the voice of reason, would whisper to me,He’s never going to marry you because you’re not worth marrying.
“It had nothing to do with you,” I tell him. “Absolutely nothing.”
“But it did!” he argues back. “We were together. We had a life together. You carried my baby for nine months and never once tried to contact me. You didn’t trust me.”
Not all of that is accurate. I did call him once. On her first birthday. I had intended on telling him about Knox then, but I had lost my nerve.
“I’m here now,” I say softly. “You said that yourself, just a while ago. I know that I made terrible choices, but I am here now.”
J.R. glares at me. His mouth is gaping. He’s frustrated. Maybe he’s wondering why I don’t get it. I do get it, but what can I do about it now? He looks away from me and then sighs. “You did make some terrible choices, but the unforgivable would have been giving our daughter away.”
I nod in agreement, and I move closer to him. “I’m sorry, J.R. For everything. I just…I knew that I would never love anyone the way that I love you. I couldn’t stand the thought of you walking out on me one day.”
“I never gave you a reason to believe that I would leave you.”
“You didn’t. You were perfect. It was me, J.R. All me.” My voice is soft and calm. I tilt my head to look at him. His eyes, blue and velvety, are on me. “Knox is a good kid. Not because of me, though. She’s good because of you.”
There’s a moment between us. It’s soft, gentle, slightly electrifying. Like a fire being rekindled. Like a gentle wind coming from some place unseen, reaching into the ashes, and breathing new life into the dead flames. It’s a brief moment, but it’s a moment. It’s enough to leave my heart with a slight flutter of hope. Maybe we aren’t completely broken.
“I’m going to bed,” J.R. says softly. He doesn’t move, though. He keeps looking at me, his eyes a black pool of emotions.
“Okay.” I'm not moving either. I can’t. I won’t.
“Okay,” he echoes. There are a few more moments of hesitation, but then he forces himself up from the couch.
I watch him leave me, walking down the hall and disappearing out of sight. The bedroom door clicks closed, and I relax back into the couch, releasing a sigh of disappointment and longing.
19
September 2007
“Hello?”
It had been so long since I had heard his voice. I had almost forgotten what he sounded like. It was such a funny thing. A person can have every attribute of someone memorized—the color of their eyes, the freckles on their skin, the different expressions of their face—but when time and distance come between them, all of those things fade away. The sound of their voice is the first to go.
I listened to him quietly on the other end of the phone. He repeated himself. “Hello? Hello? Hello?”
