He closes his eyes, guilt flooding through. Grabbing tissues from under the sink, he drags out the chair opposite her, lowering himself.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell,” he says, placing the box beside her.
“You think I’m disappointed in you?” she whispers—maybe to herself, maybe to him—but he answers anyway.
“Yeah. Sometimes,” he says, scratching the back of his head. He looks up to stare at her. “Are you?”
She meets his eyes as a fresh bout of tears fills. “Oh, Roman.”
He didn’t think it was possible, but he’s fairly certain he hears his heart crack. “Not to parent you or anything, but this is the part where you say that you aren’t,” he says, trying to make light of the situation and failing miserably.
She drops her hand to the table, sniffling. “I don’t want to lie to you, honey.”
He rises from the table, bracing his hand on the back of the chair. “Am I that bad?” He asks, hating the way his voice fractures.
“Ro,” she says, exasperatedly, wiping her cheeks. “You’re soyoung, and I guess I just—I just get a little frustrated sometimes with the choices that you make, you know?” she says, wringing her hands. “And everything that happened with Kareena. I want you to have a good life, baby. I want you to be happy. I want Lucy to be healthy. I want a good life for you. For you both.”
I want Lucy to be happy. A good life for you.
Her words slice through him. Is that not what he’s doing? Is he giving his daughter a bad life?
He nods, unable to form words as he wills the sting in his throat to disappear. He rubs his forehead slowly as he tries to make sense of her words.
“When have I ever told you that I’m not happy?” he asks, blinking hard and fast. “What about my life is so awful?”
He watches as his mom scoffs, wiping under her nose. “How can you be with that job that hardly pays, Roman?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep, centering breath. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I like working there? That maybe a degree in engineering isn’t what I want?”
“Oh,Roman. Ever since you were little, you wanted to do this.”
He laughs, but it’s short. There’s no humor behind it as he gestures toward her.
“No. It’s whatyouwant. You have this warped idea of what success looks like, and I’m breaking my back trying to give you what you want, but I’m tired.”
She stands from the chair and grabs his arms. “Baby, listen to me. As a parent, you make certain choices for your kids. Your life … it isn’t just yours anymore. You have to think about Lucy.”
“I am,” he says, gritting his teeth. “That’sallI do. Why isn’t it good enough for you? What about me?” he says, pushing a finger into his chest.
Her lips part, and she shakes her head as she stares up at him. “What about you? You lost the ability to do whatever you wanted when Lucy happened. Your actions got you here. Take responsibility for them, that’s all I’m saying,” she says, pressing her face into his chest. “I love you, Roman. I love you so much. But these are the sacrifices you have to make as a parent—as a father.”
He sighs, resting his chin on her head. Danica rounds the corner, eyes comically wide, and mouths awhat the fuckat him.
He shakes his head, raising his eyebrows as if to say Itold you soas he rubs a soothing hand down her back.
Clearing his throat, he gently plucks her from his chest, not meeting her eyes. “I’m gonna head out. Homework,” he says, moving past her and Danica to pick up a passed-out Lucy from inside the collapsible playpen set up in the living room. He reaches a shaky hand for the door and twists. “I’ll text you when we get in, okay?”
He shuts it, fishing for his keys in his front pocket. Unlocking the car, he starts to strap Lucy inside her car seat. He hears the front door open but doesn’t look up.
“Dude, what the hell?” Danica asks, her tone scathing.
Clasping the final buckle, he triple tugs on it to make sure everything is secure before closing her door. He wipes a handdown his mouth before circling to the driver’s side. He opens the door and pauses, turning to face Danica.
She stares at him with wide eyes, walking forward. The streetlight in front of the driveway illuminates her against the house. The cicadas hum and chirp in the distance, and he wipes at his brow as the humidity causes him to sweat.
“Do you agree with her? Do you think she’s right?” he asks.
She shakes her head. “Of course not, Ro. She doesn’t always know what’s best. That is your kid in there,” she says, pointing to Lucy. “Not hers. You’re doing the best—” She sighs, shaking her head. “You’re doing everything,” she says in a small voice.
