My father remains stoic in his posture. “And how exactly do you plan on balancing work with a baby? I’ve heard through the grapevine that Decker and Maxfield are on the verge of signing a major pharmaceutical case.”
“Yeah, they just signed this week.”
His eyes show the only hint that he’s interested, opening wide as they hold mine curiously. “Well … are congratulations in order?”
The weight in my chest is crushing. For years, I’ve killed myself, trying to be the son he could be proud of, and now I can see it slipping through my fingers. All he sees is failure, weakness. And, damn it, I hate how much it matters to me.
But there’s something new creeping up inside of me. Anger, resentment. All these years, I’ve put aside my own happiness,working insane hours, missing experiences I’ll never get back—all to be second best.
It didn’t get me anything but self-loathing. In two weeks of having Eli, I’ve laughed and smiled more than the last decade.
“No, I opted out of the opportunity,” I admit, not exactly the full truth, but close enough.
“Please tell me you’re joking,” he says, disappointment written all over his face.
“I’m sorry you’re disappointed, but I couldn’t handle the workload that case would bring while taking care of Eli. Now, unless you’re suggesting I abandon my daughter and give her away to some stranger, I imagine you would agree there wasn’t much that I could do.”
He pulls his shoulders back, meeting my challenge head-on as he realizes he can’t counter that without looking like a dick. “Very well. I suppose there will be other opportunities.”
I nod my head. “Right.”
My mother looks between my father and me like she isn’t sure what to do or say next. “Let’s join the others. It’s not proper to hide away for too long.”
That’s her way of trying to put an end to this confrontation, and I appreciate it. I wouldn’t have been able to handle much more of his judgment.
We walk into the family room, where they are all eating off of the hors d’oeuvre trays put out by the chef. Jessie is holding Addie while Eva holds Eli, both acting silly and goofy in an attempt to get them to smile.
The sight loosens the ache inside of me. Then Jessie’s eyes meet mine, and everything feels like it’s going to be okay. I have to stop myself from rubbing the part of my chest that continues to ache with affection for her.
Eva smiles up at our parents. We’ve always had a difficult relationship with them. Eva, being the baby girl in the family, has taken less of the brunt of their suffocating expectations. Sure, she’s had pressure, but they end up coming around to whatever she wants—especially my father.
I’m not saying I’ve wanted him to be tougher on her, but maybe not so brutal with me.
“Isn’t this great?” she asks as they watch her bouncing my daughter, who is standing on Eva’s knees. “Addie has a cousin. They’re only three days apart. She’s so precious. I can’t wait to go shopping with them. Won’t that be so fun, Mother?”
If I’m not mistaken, there’s a glimmer of a smile taking over her face, but it’s gone before I can be sure.
“Dinner is ready,” their chef announces, which pulls from the focus of the babies.
Dinner drags like an eternity. I hear the scrape of silverware, the low hum of conversation, but none of it feels real. My food might as well be cardboard—I can’t taste a damn thing. I’m too busy choking on the anger twisting through me, the sadness sitting heavy in my chest. Every smile, every polite word I give is nothing but a mask, and it’s slipping faster with each passing minute.
On the way back to the city, the babies sleep in their car seats in the middle row, and Jessie and I sit crammed in the third row; I barely notice how scrunched I feel as I stare out the window,watching the city lights come into view as I wonder what the hell I’m doing with my life.
I do my best to smile and thank Jessie for coming when we park outside of her apartment, but it’s hard for me to disguise the storm brewing inside of me.
Eli’s fingers curl tight around my thumb as she drifts to sleep, the bottle slipping from her lips. My chest cracks open at the thought of her growing up without a mother’s love. A tear escapes before I can stop it—because if she ever feels even a fraction of the emptiness my parents carved into me, it’ll destroy me.
Anger still courses throughout my body, even after I put a sleeping Eli into her bassinet and tiptoe out of the bedroom. I start to pace back and forth as I try to settle the tension that keeps building up inside. I should get into the shower and get some sleep. I have the entire week ahead of me. But I can’t seem to settle the racing thoughts. I have no outlet for all of this built-up resentment.
Resentment at my parents for not being the parents I needed them to be, at my father for always making me feel like my best isn’t good enough, and at Eli’s mom for having the audacity to abandon her baby and put that kind of trauma on her.
A knock at my door stops me in my tracks. I’m still fuming as I take hard, furious steps to see who is bothering me at this time on a Sunday night.
My hand cuts the handle to the right and pulls the door open. Jessie stands there in the same clothes she wore at dinner with a bag slung over her shoulder.
I can’t imagine what kind of disaster I must look like through her eyes. Hollow. Broken. Barely holding it together. My mouth opens, but nothing comes out—because before I can speak, Jessie does. She closes the distance in a heartbeat, her hands fisting my shirt as her lips crash into mine, fierce and certain, like she can kiss away every jagged piece of me I’ve been trying to hide.
I drag my hands under her shirt and up to her waist and kick the door shut.
