“Right. Tell that to Ethan.”
“You really want me to?”
More tears spill down my cheeks, and she pulls me into a hug, and I’m grateful for her warm body, her caring and kindness. We’ve had to learn a lot of things together as young parents, things I’m sure all new parents have to learn, but the biggest lesson of all was that one night of weed and alcohol and anoh, why the hell not?attitude, that one night is all it took to make a baby—even for a lesbian and a gay guy. And that scenario, that life, won’t make things as interesting or as funny as a sitcom.
It was a confusing time for both of us and we were being delusional, honestly. We tried to be as hetero as everyone else, to put on an act for others and offer Mikayla a stable home. Gina was my cover story, and I was hers. But Gina and I aren’t compatible that way, for the obvious reasons, and for the fact that we make great co-parents, just not a great couple.
So we split, told people that it just didn’t work out, and kept quiet about the real reasons. We’ve been pretty good at keeping our sexual preferences hidden from our little town where everyone knows everything about everybody.
Except what they don’t.
I pull out of Gina’s arms, and she gives me a sad smile. “Kay’s really gonna miss Daddy this weekend.”
I huff out a pathetic laugh. “I want to go look in on her for a minute.”
“Just don’t wake her up.”
“If I do,” I say, getting up to go to her bedroom, “I’ll get her back to sleep.”
“Promise?” Gina grins, continuing with the laundry.
I peek into Mikayla’s bedroom to see her curled up in her unicorn-printed sheets with the matching pillow shams and comforter. Her little arms are hugging a white teddy bear with a pink bow. Gina and I started letting her pick out things for her room, thinking she might not like all the overtly feminine stuff her grandparents keep giving her, but Mikayla is the girliest girl ever. And it’s absolutely adorable.
I carefully sit at the end of the bed, gently brushing a curly strand of hair from Mikayla’s face. She mostly looks like Gina, which is a good thing, with her widow’s peak, golden-brown curls, and wide smile. But she’s got my eyes—brown—and my frown when she’s grumpy. I’m totally okay with my daughter only resembling me when she’s in a bad mood. It honestly seems fitting.
Mikayla sleeps like a rock, occasionally shifting under the blankets and cuddling her teddy bear closer. For a second, I reconsider going. I hate missing time with her. It flies by, and it’s scary how fast it can go, but that’s the thing. That’s the exact thing with Ev and with Ethan—time passed, five years, and I had all that time to do something, to say something, to make amends, but I didn’t.
My gut twists, and I lean over to place a careful kiss on Mikayla’s head. “Daddy’s got something he needs to do this weekend, sweetie,” I whisper softly. “But I’ll come by to see you after. I promise.”
Mikayla doesn’t budge, still fast asleep. I guess she got being a heavy sleeper from me too.
I sit for a couple minutes longer, as if being near my daughter might help me gather up strength. Because tomorrow I’m goingto be face-to-face with Ethan Sawyer for the first time in five long years.
And I’m terrified.
2
Ethan
June 8, 1991
I should introduce myself just in case there’s a techno-apocalypse and the only thing left is this computer, which I just got for my birthday! It would be pretty cool to basically be like the apocalyptic Anne Frank. Future generations could read my weirdness and think I’m so cool. J/K! We’ll see about that.
I’m Ethan Sawyer. I’m 13. I think I’m pretty boring. But I’m also not all that normal either.
Here are some things I like:
-skateboarding
-looking up at the sky through the trees in our yard
-Super Mario 3
-the click-clack of this new keyboard
-Shane Carraway
-cloudy days
