Page 13 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Abby

Dinner is a tense affair, one filled with unasked questions and unexpected awkwardness. I help my grandmother pack up leftovers and wash dishes. She shoos me away so I can spend time with Chloe while she finishes the cleaning. I sink down into the recliner and curl my legs up under my bottom, waiting for Chloe to pick out a book and bring it to me as part of our nightly ritual.

Every night after dinner, she crawls into my lap with a book and I read to her. She points to the pictures and names the things she knows, waiting on me to identify the items she doesn’t know. But tonight, it’s different. She doesn’t even acknowledge me when I come into the room.

I watch as she toddles toward her little shelf on the entertainment center and grabs her tattered copy of Madeline. I expect her to climb into the chair with me and snuggle against my chest like she does every night, but her attentions are focused solely on Jacob. Crushing disappointment tightens my chest, and the realization that I’m going to have to share my baby with someone else steals my breath.

Tears well in my eyes as she shoves her beloved book towards Jacob, insisting he take it, before climbing onto the couch next to him. The corner of my lip twitches in triumph that she didn’t choose to sit on his lap, but my elation is short-lived. As he begins to read, his warm, deep voice cascading over each word, she rests her head against his arm and grips his bicep with her pudgy hand.

Before long, her eyelids start to flutter and her head bobs as she fights to stay awake, Jacob’s soothing voice lulling her into dreamland.

“Here,” I offer. “I’ll put her to bed.” Cradling her in my arms, I carry her to my room and place her gently in her crib. When I return to the living room, my grandmother has taken my place in the recliner, leaving only the end of the couch opposite Jacob as seating. Great.

“Join us,” she offers, motioning to the couch with her hand. “Jacob has just been telling me about a wonderful idea for Chloe.”

I don’t know what’s going on with her, or why she is so welcoming towards him. She knows everything. She’s read the letter. She saw the text messages. Why is she so ready to give him another chance? I feel like she’s taking his side, and that hurts. It hurts almost as bad as what he did. She’s the one person who should be on my side, and I feel like I’m going into this battle alone.

I sit down on the cushion but my back remains rigid, my tense muscles preventing me from relaxing. “I’m listening,” I offer.

“The local library hosts story time for toddlers twice a week,” he begins hastily, certain I’m going to shoot him down immediately like I did earlier, but as badly as I want to, I won’t prove him right. I’ll listen to everything he has to say before rejecting him. “There’s a session tomorrow at eleven. And since Chloe seems to love books, I thought she might enjoy going,” he continues hopefully. “I know you’re not ready to let me take her places by myself, and I get that. But Ama has agreed to go with us.”

I contemplate his proposal, my canines digging into the inside of my lip. My grandmother takes advantage of my hesitation.

“I think it’s a great idea,” she praises. “Chloe would love it.”

She’s right. Chloe would love it. I want to turn him down just to punish him and make him regret every day that he turned his back on us. I want him to know that I’m the one who’s taken care of her – without his help – for the last year and a half. He never had to stay up most of the night with her when she was sick. He didn’t have to get up with her every few hours to nurse her and change her diaper, then still get up early for work. He hasn’t been there to kiss every boo-boo, read every bedtime story, or cry with her every time she got a shot. He shouldn’t get to just swoop in and do the fun stuff now that most of the dirty work is done.

Jacob hurt me more than I’ll ever admit to him, and part of me wants vengeance, retribution. I want him to pay, but not at the expense of my daughter’s happiness. She deserves the chance to get to know her father, even if he doesn’t deserve to get to know her. And I can’t really argue when she’s going to be in my grandmother’s care the whole time.

“Okay.” My voice is low, quiet as a whisper. Jacob’s eyes widen in shock and I can tell he was prepared to continue pleading his case, certain I would say no. My grandmother nods her head in approval, a gesture that knots my stomach. I glance away and stand, preparing to retreat to my room. “I think I’m going to head to bed now,” I inform them. “Goodnight.” I disappear down the hallway, head ducked so they can’t see the tears when they begin to fall.

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