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“Something about a daughter a few years ago, and a restraining order.” She very carefully set the lid of the washingmachine down so it wouldn't slam, and somehow, it was worse than if she’d let it bang shut.
“Andrew, please, fill me in. I’m sure I don’t know both sides here.” She refused to look me in the eye, instead folding the freshly dried clothes right there on top of the dryer.
I summarized the story as best I could. “Ruth lied. She told me she was single, and she never told me she was pregnant. She showed up on my doorstep after she’d been kicked out.
“She moved in with me… she was an addict, Maria. High off her ass all the damn time. I took time off work to take care of her and the kid, but I came back from the grocery store one day and she was gone.
“I’ve been looking for them for years. Hired a PI, tried to call the cops up there… they said they’d arrest me if I kept snooping around and trying to find her. She changed her name and disappeared. My PI can’t find them.”
She was quiet, staring at the shirt in front of her, and then she shook it out, snapping it to pull the wrinkles out.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “That does make me feel better about what I heard.”
I waited, my throat still thick, my blood rushing in my ears. She didn’t say anything else, she just took the folded clothes and the shirts on the hanger and snuck past me, heading to my room to set the clothes on my bed, before taking hers to her bedroom.
She was still planning to leave, then.
What else was I supposed to do? What else could I have done?I wanted to shout. But Maria’s face had turned to stone, and she wouldn't look me in the eye.
“You’re… leaving?”
“I have to.”
I followed her into her bedroom, standing outside the door.
“Why?”
“My mom is leaving my dad.”
“…I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He has another family with another woman.”
“That must have been a lot to take in.”
She closed her eyes, halting her chores and steadying herself before she continued. “We both need jobs and a place to stay, so we’re going to live together. She already found a place that will work. We can get out of your hair.”
So this isn’t about me? Or it is?
“You’re welcome to come visit the boys, if you want to.” There was a harshness in her voice that cut me to the core.
I didn’t know what else to say or do, so I went back to my room, took a shower, and climbed into bed. Maybe when I woke up, all this would be a bad dream, and I’d wake up to find her in my bed with me.
The next day, Maria was quiet. Civil, polite, but quiet. She didn’t look at me, only speaking to me when she had to, and she kept it professional and closed off. The only time she met my eye was when I came home and Matthew pulled himself to his feet. I watched as Matthew let out a delighted cry and took several staggering steps forward before falling to his hands and knees, only to crawl as fast as he could over to me, sitting right in front of my feet. I looked from him to her, and saw a well of sadness behind her eyes and I choked at how beautiful and how hurt she looked.
“Maria,” I started, but she looked away, and then rushed to her feet, scooping Matthew up from the ground and carrying him away into the other room, her eyes red around the rim.
I clenched my fist and almost put it through the wall. I wasn't just upset anymore. I was furious. And I didn’t want to be around my sons when I was this angry. It wasn’t fair to them.
But I didn’t want to lose a second, because in a few hours, they’d be gone.
I swore, and went to the kitchen, downing a full glass of water, and then an entire beer in quick succession. It didn’t help.
And no matter how hard I wanted to be angry at her, to hate her, to erase the awful feeling of the impending loss, I couldn’t. I could never hate her. She was too wonderful, and I knew I didn’t deserve her to begin with.
This was just… Karma.
And Karma was a real bitch.
