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“But you’re right,” I add. “I shouldn’t touch you in ways that blur the lines of our relationship, and I gave your father my word that I would keep my dick in my pants.”
“Ooh. Big hero. What an honorable man,” Jem says, rolling her eyes. “As if I’d want that filthy fucking thing, anyway. I’m lucky I escaped it the first time with a healthy baby, instead of syphilis or some shit. I hate you and him both, for assuming I need more useless men in my life. You can take your stupid T-shirt and get the fuck out of my house. Now.”
She marches to the front entryway, grabs my clean and folded Nirvana T-shirt from the side table, opens the door, and throws it outside.
It hits her dad in the face, but he barely seems to notice.
His face is damp, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.
“Dad?” Jem’s voice softens instantly, and she steps out to greet him. “What’s happened? Come inside.”
She guides him in and settles him into an armchair, while trying to coax words from him. She feels his forehead, checks his pulse, loosens his cuffs and his collar, and holds his hand, like he’s the child. It’s no wonder she appreciates anyone fucking thinking about her and her needs. I am a complete tool for taking advantage of that.
It takes a few minutes for David to find his words, but the moment he says, “Gabe had a massive heart attack,” Jem sinks to her knees beside him, like she took a huge hit.
“They… I… I’m his emergency contact. He’s in the hospital. In New York.New York,” he repeats the words in a whisper. “He’s stable, but he’s… I have to go to him.”
Jem looks up with a frown. “No. He made his choice. He’s not allowed to need us. Pass the buck to Auntie Glam. She’ll make sure he’s okay. You’re barely out in daylight. Don’t throw yourself under a bus for that man and get hurt all over again, just because he didn’t change a name on a stupid form.”
Jem’s father stares at her. “That man helped raise you. He’s your father, and you’ll—”
“Heleftme,” she says through a tight jaw. “He walked away from both of us and ruined our family, and he can die, for all I care.” She claps a hand over her mouth, clearly shocked by her own words. “I didn’t mean it,” she says, bursting into tears.
Viv joins in, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Jemma looks from our baby, to me, and then to her father, and she runs. Straight upstairs.
A door slams, and I meet David’s gaze, as I do my best to calm Viv. “How do I make this easier?”
15
JEM
Idug in my heels, but Gunnar helped Dad wear me down. They’ve convinced me to travel.
Gabe’s in Intensive Care, Dad’s a fucking mess, and I’m at war with myself over whether I should let myself care, but Gunnar has calmly advocated the best course of action for each of us from a place of love and support. I know it’s for the best if I go to New York to support my dads and address the rifts between us, but I’m uncomfortable admitting to Gunnar that he’s right.
Half of me wants to fight him on it. The other half is weirdly impressed by his pulling my family together in a crisis. It’s how families are meant to work, but I doubt it’d be happening without him nurturing it.
My hands are shaking, as I check Viv’s overloaded diaper bag again. I hand it over to Gunnar, not ready to let go. Dad and I are going without Viv, and I’m sick about all of it.
I’m scared for Gabe at the same time as being livid about even giving a shit. I’m annoyed at Dad and Gunnar for making such a good fucking argument for leaving Viv behind, because Dad definitely can’t make the trip without support, a hospital is no place for a baby, and I can’t exactly shock the hell out of a man with a major heart condition by showing up and sayingHey, Gabe. The little girl you abandoned got lonely, spread her legs for a real daddy-type, and popped out this little firecracker.Dad’s terrified Gabe’ll have another heart attack if we spring it on him, and after what I said…
“I couldn’t express enough breastmilk to last the whole weekend,” I say on the verge of tears, as I hand Gunnar the can of milk powder. “I don’t even know if she’ll take a bottle. Shelby hasn’t had any luck so far, when I’ve been out.”
“We’ll be fine, Jem,” he assures me. “I’ll make sure she’s fed. You don’t need to worry about her. Just do what you need to do, and come home safely, okay? Did you pack your pump, to keep yourself comfortable over the weekend?”
I pause to think, and then run back upstairs, to make sure, because I don’t actually remember putting it in my overnight bag.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the breast pump near my toothbrush, which is still on the counter in my bathroom. I put it there to remind myself to get it, but that was clearly a flawed plan.
I pack them both, bring my bag downstairs, and set it next to Dad’s. “Nearly forgot my toothbrush,” I mumble, not wanting to admit how helpful Gunnar actually is.
He acts as if he could handle any situation, and it’s a relief to know I can trust him to care for Viv and do anything she needs. He’s good at that — a great dad. And even though I’m still annoyed at him for the way he handled things with telling my dad and for making me feel like a fool for wanting him, I know he’ll do whatever needs to be done. It’s how he is.
He’s been pretty supportive about the whole Gabe issue — and with Dad’s situation. I can’t stop thinking about how he went through a similar thing with his mom. Only he had a little sister to care for when his dad left. And he was younger. Still a kid. How hard must that have been for him?
I was forced to grow up fast, but I was almost seventeen when Gabe left. Nearly an adult. Gunnar would have lost his childhood overnight. No wonder he’s rough around the edges but responsible as fuck. He’s a provider. Steady and dependable — even if I don’t want to depend on him, I can if I need to.
