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Looking back, I can see how toxic it was, needing things from him that should’ve been provided by the woman responsible for me. He was my biggest cheerleader until he wasn’t. When my dreams became too big, he was no longer supportive. I was silly to think I could go to nursing school. Who would watch the baby? He had people to see and things to do. It couldn’t be him.
Yet, I somehow stayed, attempting to do it all. Nursing school was the first to go after only one semester. He begged me to accept the grant money I had been awarded for the second semester, but I knew I’d never be able to pass the classes. I was dead on my feet at school. My mom was less than impressed at helping me watch Ryder. Daycare was expensive. The friends who hung around and partied before I got pregnant all went off to college. They made different choices, and, although a little bitter about it some days, I couldn’t fault them for that.
So now, instead of worrying about finally going back to college, I have to jump through hoops because the father of my child is irresponsible. The caseworker never said I was at risk of losing custody, but she had spoken in third person multiple times about how some women continue to make mistakes and the state is forced to step in.
“Daddy works on Wednesdays,” I lie.
Hell, I don’t think Travis has even found another job. The caseworker doesn’t discuss that side of the case with me. We never got married, so I’m not privileged to that information. At least that’s what she told me the last time I asked.
I think she still feels like I would’ve stayed if the threat of losing Ryder wasn’t on the table if I didn’t leave, but my mind was made up the second I got the phone call that he’d been arrested.
I’d never forgive myself if something happened to my son because of his dad. All the warning signs were there. His constant absence, his lack of interaction with his family, the drinking, even though Travis swore he never got drunk.
“Get off my ass, Sunny. It’s just a couple of beers.”
I’ve heard that more times than I’d ever be able to count. I’ve seen him drunk, and I’ve seen him with tears on his cheeks that day I had to go get Ryder from the police station. He regretted what he’d done, drinking and driving with our child in the car.
But nothing has changed. He still showed up with alcohol on his breath for his last visit, and the one before that, he didn’t even bother to call and cancel. He just never showed. The disappointment on Ryder’s face was enough to make me want to march over to our old house and rip his father a new one, but I couldn’t. I can’t do anything that will compromise my position as sole guardian.
“He’d take the day off if he knew,” Ryder argues, breaking my heart just a little more. “He told me he was sorry. I don’t understand why you haven’t forgiven him yet.”
I don’t bad talk his father in front of him. Hell, I don’t bad talk his father at all. There’s no one around to listen to me.
I dart my eyes to Bishop, still lying in the bed, unmoving. I’ve spilled all my guts to this sleeping man, but I don’t have anyone in my real life to have those conversations with. Between working and taking care of Ryder since he was born, I haven’t given myself much room for anything else. My dedication to my son was another problem for Travis. He just couldn’t understand why I was so uptight—his description of me, not my own. I was serious all the time, but he could never wrap his head around the fact that we were raising a person, that our son had to come first. There were days I could tell Travis was jealous of his own son. I’ve often wondered if that jealousy is what led him to the first woman he cheated on me with. I know there’s a possibility he’s always been unfaithful, but I didn’t know for a fact until last year. When I found out, I was already so numb to the pain the man caused my heart, I ignored it.
He never pressured me for sex because he was getting it elsewhere. The last year of us living in the same home, it became more of a roommate situation. He didn’t even crawl in the bed. Most nights, he barely made it to the couch, and the weeks before he was arrested, there were many nights he slept in his truck in the driveway.
He put on a good face most days for Ryder, but the second any aspect of parenting came up, he’d have something more important to do.
