Nate.
He comes every day to visit me. He’s trying to
make up for lost time. He’s available and attentive
but there is no love in his eyes, or his words
because I am not in his heart.
As much as he tries to be what I wish he was, he
isn’t Patrick.
And he never will be.
No one will ever be Patrick.
“Should I send him up?” asks my father after
hesitating since I haven’t answered him.
“I don’t feel like talking to him today. Can you
tell him I’m resting and I’ll call him tonight?”
“Erin…”
“Please, I don’t want to see him. Not now.”
“Honey, that boy is the father of this child. He’s
ready to take care of both of you. He wants to give
you a house; he wants to create a family. Nate
loves you.”
“He doesn’t love me, Dad.”
“Oh my dear. Affection? Love? All these
evocative words? What’s important is that you’re
together, you understand each other. Try to give it
a chance, please honey, just try to compromise.”
“Love isn’t a compromise.”
“My child, life is a compromise.”
“Well, withhimit wasn’t, it wasn’t any of this,”
I say, sitting up. “With him everything was
wonderful and…” And I can’t finish the phrase but
the tears are at the door.
