“Nothing. Eat your food.”
“Kandi.”
She sighed. “Fine. When’s the last time a man actually gave a damn about what you needed?”
I didn’t answer.
“Kevin sure as hell didn’t. That man couldn’t be bothered to remember your birthday, but he expected you to drop everything when he wanted something.”
“This isn’t about Kevin.”
“Isn’t it, though? Because you spent nearly a decade with a man who couldn’t care less what you wanted, and now someone actually does and you’re running scared.”
“I’m not scared.”
“Then what are you?” Kandi’s voice was gentle but direct. “Are you protecting yourself? Or are you making sure the thing your most afraid of comes true?”
I looked down at my bowl, the words hitting closer than I wanted to admit. “Everyone leaves.”
“Girl, please. I’ve been stuck with you for twenty years.”
“Why should I let him reorganize my life, make himself important, and make me need him when I already know how this ends?”
I set my bowl aside, my appetite suddenly gone. How could I explain the certainty that lived in my bones? The kind that came from experience, not paranoia.
My parents were kids themselves when they had me. My mother took one look at motherhood and said “no thank you,” so my father stepped up. Or tried to. The man loved me. I know he did. But love doesn’t pay bills or keep you sober or stop social services from knocking on your door.
The cycle was always the same. He’d lose me to the state, get himself together enough to show up in court with a smile and promises, and get me back.
We’d have a few good months where I’d think maybe this time was different. Then whatever was broken in him would crack wide open again, and I’d be packing my stuff into a bag while a caseworker stood in the doorway pretending not to watch me cry.
Over and over. Hope, collapse, repeat. Until I was eight years old and he stopped showing up. No more court appearances or promises. Just silence.
“What makes you so sure he’s gone leave?”
“Because that’s what men do, Kandi. When things get hard, when the reality doesn’t match the fantasy—”
“When you push them away hard enough that staying becomes impossible?”
I didn’t answer. My throat suddenly felt tight.
“I’m not saying that to hurt you, friend. But when you told Aris you were pregnant, he didn’t even question paternity, his immediate response was to offer marriage so you and these babies could benefit from his wealth. Then he packed up his entire life in Greece and moved here to be with you.”
“It took him two weeks to do that, though.”
Kandi raised an eyebrow. “The man could’ve sent child support checks from Greece and called it a day. But he didn’t.”
Both babies kicked in tandem, as if agreeing with her. I touched my belly automatically.
“They’re really active today,” I murmured.
“They know their mama’s being stubborn.” Kandi grinned, then her expression turned more serious. “Look, I’m not saying trust him with your whole heart tomorrow. But maybe... don’t push him away.”
I thought about the elevator. About his hand covering mine on my belly, the way his voice had gone rough when he asked about naming our daughter. About how he’d noticed I was tired before I’d even said anything.
“I don’t know how to be the woman he wants,” I admitted.
“What makes you think you’re not already?” Kandi squeezed my hand. “That man moved across an ocean for you, Dee. Introducing you as his future wife. You.”
