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“No,” Jem says firmly. “I’m not looking for family ties. I’ve got plenty to deal with already, and you can’t just barge in complicating everything.” She glances at the house next door. “He doesn’t know. Okay?”
I squint at her again. “Doesn’t know what?”
“About Viv.”
I look at our little girl, unable to comprehend. “I’m sorry. I…What?”
“He doesn’t know I had a baby,” she says quietly, her head down.
Still stunned, I shake my head. “How is that even possible? You live right next door. You were pregnant. And I didn’t have the privilege of seeing you full-term, but you grew a whole baby inside you, so I imagine you lookedundeniablyfucking pregnant, Jem. And…” I hold Viv up as evidence. “How do you explain this?”
Jem takes a deep breath and runs a hand over her hair. “He’s not really the observant type of late,” she says quietly.
“What does that mean? Is he blind?”
She flinches and shakes her head. “I told you, he’s sick.”
“Like, terminally?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm when disbelief and anger make it higher pitched.
She sighs and rubs her forehead. “No.”
I don’t know how to respond, because even if I was dying, I’d notice if my kid had a baby.
“What the fuck is wrong with him, then?” I ask. “Why doesn’t he know? Why isn’t he helping you? I honestly can’t think of a single reason I wouldn’t bend over backwards, to help my daughter if she was in your situation. I’d probably kill the son of a bitch who put you there, too.”
Jem shrugs. “He used to be like that, but since Gabe left, Dad hasn’t really been… present. His heart’s too broken, and he needs help more than I do. He raised me well, and I can take care of myself.”
“But he’s an adult, and you’re his child,” I argue. “He should give a fuck. You think I would let this shit happen to Viv?”
Jem’s gaze flicks to the baby, and then back to me. I can see in her face that she knows I’d never drop the ball if my kid needed me, but she lifts her chin and straightens her spine. “I may be his daughter, but I’m not a child, Gunnar. I’m grown. I’m a mom. I earn a living, and I take care of my family. I don’t need you butting your nose in or making me feel shitty, for doing my best.”
Her words hit me like blows. Making her feel inadequate wasn’t my intention. Obviously, I struck a defensive chord. “I apologize if I made you think you’re anything less than a strong, fiercely independent, and wonderful woman, Jem. I didn’t mean to provoke an argument, and I’m sorry your father was so broken by your family’s loss. This Gabe — he was your other dad?”
She nods. “He’s the second of Dad’s spouses to walk out on us. My mother was the first. I don’t really know her or care to, and from her complete absence in my life, I’d say the feeling’s mutual. Dad didn’t blame her for leaving, since he only really figured out he was gay after she gave up her career and general awesome life to start a family with him, when apparently, she didn’t even want kids.” Jem stares at the ground and shrugs. “But Dad was head over heels for Gabe, and I was too. I thought we were a happy family, but in my senior year, Gabe just up and left us, out of the blue. It was a total shock — one Dad hasn’t recovered from.”
“What about you?” I ask gently, now realizing why she responds so well to attention and affection. She hasn’t beengetting any for months. And I know exactly how it feels, to be the strongest one left standing after a parent walks out on the family — the responsibility, the effort, the exhaustion and endless worry.
And her fucking mom left her too?
How fucking unlovable does Jem feel, after being walked out ontwice? Is that why she pulls back when she finds herself leaning into the undeniable attraction between us?
I want to crush her to me in a big hug and tell her that time brings change and everything is going to work out fine, but she’s still kind of fuming at me, I think. And who can blame her, when I’ve made her spill her secrets?
Her life is hard, so she simplifies where she can with an M.O. ofno-fucking-strings; she doesn’t want me involved. I was the part of her life that was adventurous and fun, but the rest sounds really kind of shitty, and she wants to keep those things separate. Compartmentalized. I get it. I’m all too fucking familiar with the process.
It’s survival, and it makes me want to hug her even more.
I snuggle Viv closer, instead. “I’m sorry, Jem. About all of it.”
She nods and looks at the plate in her hand. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she says dismissively and leaves me to wait on the doorstep with Viv, who promptly begins screaming her head off.
I take her back inside, to calm her down, so Jem can do what she needs to do, without having to tend to a baby as well.
“It’s okay, my sweet. Daddoo’s got you. And Mama just filled your belly plenty, so there’s no need to fuss. Except maybe about these soggy britches of yours.” I say, patting her full diaper.
I change her butt — twice — and put her in a fresh onesie, because the last one didn’t survive the explosion she made the moment I finished changing her the first time.
“All happy now, are ya?” I blow a raspberry on her belly, and she gurgles at me with a toothless grin. “Was your tummy making you a grumpy munchkin?” I ask.
