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The conversation ended unceremoniously when we found out Malcolm was also in town. That sealed the deal that her arrival had nothing to do with any of us, but everything to do withhim.
It’s hard to believe that the woman that carried us doesn’t want anything to do with us unless it’s convenient. I’ve said as much to my sisters. But not to Dad. He’s too raw right now. I don’t think he’s sleeping either.
“If you are ready to forgive her, then by all means. You do that, Daddy,” I say, touching my iced coffee and spinning it around, giving the illusion I’m about to drink kit. “But I don’t think we are ready for that.” The royal we. My sisters. Me. By proxy, my unborn child.
“You don’t need to forgive her, but don’t you want to…” My dad eyes my hand as I pick up another piece of coffee cake. “Being a mother is hard, Harley.”
I try not to let my surprise crop up on my face. It’s like he’s seeing right through me, seeing what I’m trying to hide. “I know, Dad. But most moms don’t walk away, never to be heard from again.”
“Not never,” he corrects.
“Ten years may as well be never,” I rebut.
He blinks and looks away. “You’re right. It’s a long time. I just don’t want you to regret this. Life is…it’s shorter than you think. Especially when you have children. They grow so fast and you forget you’re growing too.” Dad smiles sadly at me.
“Dad, you’re fifty. Not on your deathbed,” I tease.
“You know that’s not my point.”
I observe my father for a moment.
When I returned from Australia, I was stunned to realize how old he’d gotten. Deeper wrinkles on his face, gray peppering his dirty blonde hair. It wasn’t that he had aged enormously in six years. It’s just what happens, I think. Suddenly, you realize your parents are human and they’re getting older and one day, in the hopefully very distant future, they’ll be gone.
I’m tearing up just thinking about my own little one that is yet to come. He or she will also experience this moment someday too. The moment we realize life is fickle. Temporary. A gift, but not a given.
“You know what’s funny?” Dad asks.
I look out at the yard, a morning breeze catching in my hair. “Hm?”
“Your mother loved coffee cake when she was pregnant.”
I can’t help but do a double-take. “What?”
“Couldn’t get enough of it,” he goes on with a sentimental smile. “With all of you girls. You don’t remember, you were still a baby when Amy came along. But ask Dana, I think she’d…she’d remember.”
Dad’s eyes are locked on mine. He’s trying to say more than he’s saying with words. I’m terrified to speak.
“I won’t tell anyone, Harley.”
Oh my god. He knows. “How did you…”
“I’ve had five children. I can just tell,” he says softly.
I knew he wouldn’t be mad when he found out, but for him to know without me telling him. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
“Same thing happened with Gillian. Except I had to go out of my way to get her the vegan kind and that’s–”
I can’t help but laugh despite shame pricking at the back of my eyes. “She’s so high maintenance.”
“So are you, dear.”
I blush and look down in my lap.
“Plus, I’ve been hearing you in the bathroom getting sick and, well, I didn’t want to assume anything, but–”
“No, you’re right.”
Dad swallows, looking at me tenderly.
