“Uh-huh. My dad tried to adopt me, like, five times. That’s why, at the end of his life, Mom tried so hard to get in touch with you; you would’ve had to give up your parental rights in order for him to officially adopt me. It didn’t matter because he was always my dad. That piece of paper would have meant more for him than for me.”
“I’m so sorry, Ash. I didn’t know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” She started to get a little misty-eyed but held it together. I was close to having a breakdown myself and felt conflicted about everything, including Dan. He was dead already so I couldn’t kill him, but somewhere under the shock, I started to realize I should be grateful for him. After all, he raised my daughter into someone I would admire instantly.
Ash took a bite of her scone, smiled, and looked out the window as she chewed. It was like I was looking at Grace from a long time ago, but with my eye color and a tiny cleft in her chin, just like me, barely noticeable.
“Do you have any crooked toes?”
“Yeah, actually. My second toe is crooked. Thanks for that, by the way.” We both laughed, but then we got quiet again.
“What was he like?”
“Who?”
“Your dad.”
She looked me right in eyes, so brave, like her mom. “You’re my dad now... if you want.”
That was it. I started crying. I wasn’t sobbing, but there were tears running down my face, and my throat was so tight that I thought I would stop breathing. I reached across thetable, took her hands in mine, and closed my eyes. I realized that I wanted Ash in my life. The pain of missing her childhood was killing me. “Yes, I want to,” I whispered.
She started crying, too. We both cried together, surrendering to the reality that we had to accept. No one could change the past or give us back the time we had lost, and there were no words to make everything better. We just had to accept the present for what it was.
We stood and hugged for a long time, and I was surprised that it didn’t feel foreign to me; she didn’t feel like a stranger.
There were a few stares from café patrons, but eventually everyone ignored us and went on with their conversations as I held my crying daughter. Gotta love that about New Yorkers. I felt bad for how things had worked out with Ash’s childhood, but I was still intensely furious with Grace and Elizabeth.
On our way back to Grace and Ash’s brownstone, she asked, “What’s going to happen with you and Mom?”
“There’s a complicated history there, Ash. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“She loves you.”
“I know.”
Once we reached the brownstone, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you so you have mine. You can call me if you want to hang out.”
I gave her my number. “You know, I don’t just want to ‘hang out.’ I want to be a part of your life. It’ll be weird at first, but I want this... if you do.”
She grinned and socked me in the arm, “Alrighty, I’ll see ya later then... um... what should I call you?”
“Call me anything you want.”
She laughed. “Okay, see ya, George.”
I shook my head. “Silly girl.” I messed up her hair and then noticed Grace was watching us from the window. She looked terrible, and had obviously been crying nonstop. She was wearing a sad, small smile. I looked away.
“How about I call you Father for now... since you are my father.”
“That’s fine with me. Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow?” I didn’t want to be away from her ever again.
“I can’t, I’m going shopping with my friend.”
“Okay, what about the next day?”
“School, and then I have chess club.”
“Chess club?” I arched my eyebrows.
“Yeah, it’s my goal in life to beat Mom. She’s so good.”
