Page 89 of Of Literature and Lattes
He resisted the urge to scoot away to create more than a few inches of space between them. “Don’t you get I don’t want to talk to you? I don’t want to look at you, hear your voice. I—I can’t even process what you’ve done.” He gripped his hair and pulled at the ends.
“Then what are you doing here?”
“Because this isn’t about you, or me. I don’t have the luxury of walking away.” He shook his head as if imagining another scenario, one in which he could walk away. “On some level, right now, I wish I could. God forgive me. But what you did, Krista? From the moment we met everything was a lie, and you doubled down, again and again.”
“I’m sorry—”
“No.” He leaned back, creating that space he wanted, and held a hand up to her. “I get to finish.” He bounced up, needing more distance and needing to move. The pressure built like the foaming wands on the espresso machines. It needed escape, even if only in paced circles. “What you did was inexcusable and we’ll deal with that later, but... I have an aunt. Somewhere. And after my parents died, she didn’t want me. She didn’t choose me, Krista. She walked away, and I carry that every day of my life. That’s what you’re doing to Becca. You lay this ‘truth’ of yours on me to push me away, to force me to make that same choice and walk away. And you? You get to play innocent victim or savior, whichever you want. You get to be the parent who stayed.” He stopped and thrust his pointer finger her direction. “It was rotten, wrong, and I... I almost hate you for it. And do you know what that feels like? Despite everything that’s gone down between us I have never hated you.” He curled the finger into his fist and smashed it into his chest. “I don’t want to feel this way.”
“How can I—” Krista stood.
Jeremy stiffened and held out his hand again, whether to silence her or keep her from coming closer, he wasn’t sure. “I’m not walking away. I won’t do that to my daughter. And I’ll fight you if you try to take her from me. I may not be able to do anything in the courts, but Icanfight you. I can keep showing up and poking holes in every lie you dish out... This isn’t about you anymore, do you hear me? It should’ve stopped being about you the minute she was born, but it stops now. So no matter what you do, that little girl in there”—he pointed behind Krista to the house—“will know I chose her, I love her, and I will fight for her. Do you hear me?”
“I do.” Krista nodded. “And I won’t lie. Not anymore.” At his snide chuff, she wilted. “I deserve that, but it’s true. And I know you have no reason to believe me, but I am sorry, Jeremy. Really I am.”
Jeremy didn’t move a muscle.
“It hasn’t been easy for me. I’m not trying to let myself off the hook, but I never meant it to go on like this. It took on a life of its own and I didn’t know—” Something in his eyes stopped her. She watched him a beat before continuing in a softer, more conciliatory tone. “And Becca’s been horrid since you dropped her off. I don’t think she heard anything, but all this tension... She blew up this afternoon in Target over a toy she wanted. A stupid toy for a baby. She’s seven.” Krista flopped her hands to her sides. “I feel like we’re coming undone.”
“Because we are. And of course she’s freaking out. She absorbs all this, and how do you think it’s going to come out? Over coffee and a scone?”
“I don’t need sarcasm, Jeremy. That’s not helpful.”
“I’m not here to be helpful to you, Krista.” He again looked up to the house. “I want to see her.”
“She’s asleep.” Krista raised her chin to meet his eyes. Jeremy watched as something almost vulnerable flashed through her eyes, and she backed up immediately. “Of course, of course you can see her. Go on up.”
He didn’t ask or comment on the change. He stepped past her, opened the front door, and paused. Krista’s parents had never warmed to him, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to confront, greet, or chat with them now. What lies had Krista told them? And for his part, hehadmarried their daughter within a month of meeting her and had only met them on his one short and tense visit to Park Ridge weeks after Becca was born. Despite everything Krista had done, he hadn’t left the best impression either.
Krista gestured inside. “They’re not here. Becca exhausted them too. They went to a movie.”
Jeremy walked up the stairs. He hadn’t been in the house in almost seven years, and even then it was only for that single dinner, with Becca sleeping in a bassinet next to the dining room table.
He paused on the stairs. The walls were lined with pictures. Krista’s parents’ wedding picture. Family Christmas photos with a young Krista smiling with pigtails... with braces... with vertical hair-sprayed bangs. Pictures of Krista morphed to pictures of Becca. Jeremy paused to search her face in light of his new understanding. Hints were there, perhaps, in the eyes and in the mouth. But not enough to be sure. She looked very much like Krista. Sure, Becca’s hair was darker and she was taller—but Jeremy always appropriated those attributes. Perhaps Krista had a “type,” he thought, and he was more like David than he ever wanted to know. He took the final four stairs in two quick strides.
Krista followed him and gestured to a cracked door on his right. He pushed it open and looked around the room, lit by a single night-light and glowing pink. He remembered when Krista posted a three-week Instagram series on the room’s transformation right before he moved to Winsome. She’d gotten a bonus at work and wrote that she was using it to make her daughter’s room “a sanctuary for creativity and fun.” She then posted short videos of painting the room, stenciling the flowers around the windows, and even arranging all the pillows and toys.
“Hey, Bug.” Jeremy perched on the edge of Becca’s twin bed. She was lying on her back, arms splayed out, buried beneath pillows and her giraffe named Mr. Tall. He shifted the mass of pink and yellow, then brushed Becca’s hair from across her face. She didn’t move. Only kids sleep with such abandon and trust, he thought. Watching her, he hoped she could and would sleep like that her whole life.
“Ladybug?”
“Daddy?” Her eyelids fluttered. “Why are you here?”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by for one of your super-powered hugs.”
Without another word, his daughter popped up and hugged him tight.
“I love you, my Ladybug. I want you to know that.”
“Mmm... hmm...” Becca wiggled, and Jeremy reluctantly let her go. She flopped back into the pillows.
“You sleep now.”
She curled onto her side.
He walked out of the room and pulled the door shut save a couple inches. Krista waited for him in the hallway. “Do you want to come downstairs? We can talk some more.”
Jeremy shook his head. “Not tonight. What I said when I arrived still stands, Krista. You and I...” He motioned two fingers between them. “This is no ‘conscious uncoupling,’ this is no ‘respectful and mutual parenting,’ and I won’t pretend with you any longer. We’ll talk someday, but not now.”
