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 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.”
“Okay then.” I was starting to wonder if there was really room for me to step into her life.
“Dinner on Tuesday?” she asked.
“Perfect,” I said. “Wear your pajamas. I know a great place.”
“You’re weird.”
“You are, too.”
“Cool.”
I walked home, hoping, sadly, that Grace would be able to stop crying.
I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do except try to get to know Ash while I was in New York and be a dad, even though I knew nothing about what that entailed.
On Monday, I went to the library and read every parenting book I could get my hands on.
I texted Grace that night.
ME: I’m trying to wrap my head around all of it.
GRACE: I understand.
ME: I’m going to see Ash on Tuesday night for dinner.
GRACE: Okay.
ME: I want to see her regularly.
GRACE: Of course.
ME: Does she have a college fund?
GRACE: Yes.
ME: Can I give you some money?
GRACE: That’s not necessary.
ME: I want to.
GRACE: Okay then. You can put it in her college fund. I’ll get the account info for you.
A part of me wanted to say more, but I wasn’t capable of talking to her about anything beyond the logistics of coparenting.
The next day I was slammed with work stuff but I managed to get out and have lunch with Scott. When he started talking about Singapore, I told him about Ash. He didn’t say anything; he was just shocked. He told me to take the rest of the week off. I didn’t realize I really needed to until that moment.
When I returned to my building, I found Monica sitting on a bench near the elevator. She had the family bassinet balanced on her lap.
Her eyes were full of compassion, but her nostrils were flared and her jaw was set in a rigid line.
“Monica, don’t say it.”
“I was going to stab her in the eye with my heel.” I looked down at her five-inch stilettos. Yep, those would get the job done. “I’m so sorry, Matt. Andrew’s in Tokyo, otherwise he’d be here. I came in his place.”
“Thank you, Monica. I see you paid Elizabeth a little visit. You didn’t actually hurt her, did you?”
“Of course not, but I did give her a piece of my mind. I wasn’t gonna let her off that easy.” She pointed her long index finger at me. “That woman took a shit inside the soul of this family.”
“I know.” I had already resigned myself to that reality, but I could tell Monica was still fighting it, or at least trying to figure out how to fix it. “It is what it is. I just have to try to be a part of my daughter’s life from here on out.” I nodded my head toward the door. “Take a walk with me?”
She hiked her large Gucci bag over her shoulder and picked up the bassinet. “Can we stop by Grace’s?”
“You’re going to give that to Grace?”
“Of course. As a gesture of apology for that wretched Elizabeth.”
“I don’t know if she’s home, but we can go by there and see. Here, I’ll carry it.” I took it from her hands and looked at the ornate wooden legs and fading varnish and wondered what Ash would have looked like as a baby sleeping inside of it, peacefully.
As Monica’s heels clacked down the sidewalk beside me, I laughed at the fantasy of her taking her shoes off and throwing them at Elizabeth. “What did you say to her?”
“Oh, I just told her that she was a thief and a liar. She stole something more precious from you than she could ever comprehend. Of course, she denied it and acted like she knew nothing. I told her I wouldn’t believe anything she said. She is the worst kind of person, Matt. A self-deluded, self-involved bitch.”
“Do you think maybe she didn’t know?”
We got to the corner and waited for the stoplight to turn. Monica sighed and pulled an envelope out of her bag. “She knew something, but she didn’t open the letters from Grace. She threw them away, all except for this one.” She handed me a sealed envelope. “If she was getting a letter every year and going to such great lengths to hide it from you, she must have known Grace was trying to tell you something. I don’t know if she really would’ve kept such a secret from you if she knew what it was, but denial through ignorance isn’t an excuse.”