Page 61 of Spoil
“What do I do?” I whisper, my voice taken quickly by the wind. “You made me promise. It was literally the last words we spoke to each other. But Gen... that doesn’t feel like family.” Speaking aloud the thoughts that have plagued me for months now feels like I’m betraying something. Like I’m betraying the idea of the family that we could have been. I think about what I know about family, and honestly, it’s pretty sparse.
I think about the belabored sighs my dad would give me if I were even the slightest inconvenience. I remember when I was young. We walked into a Walmart to get a six-pack of beer, andI saw one of those disposable cameras on sale for four dollars. I tugged him to a stop and asked if he would buy it for me. He’d told me ‘No’. I remember it as a core memory. I didn’t know why it stunned me so much as a child, but as a parent now, the echo of the sting reverberates. It’s not even about the money. I didn’t have money before Daniel, but if Danny wanted something that would make her happy, and I could provide it, I would.
Now, as an adult, I don’t understand having the power to make your child happy and actively choosing not to. If we had the money for beer, we had the money for that stupid disposable camera.
Hot tears streak down my cheeks again, but instead of wiping them off, I let them.
That’s the only semblance of family I knew. One that labeled me a burden almost from day one. A mother who didn’t stick around. A father who didn’t care if I was happy or not. I knew for certain that I loved my father - that my world revolved around him - but now I’m starting to wonder if he loved me at all. Acid burns in my gut at the idea of making Danny feel like a burden. I’d sew my own mouth shut before I sighed like my father did when she was being inconvenient. In fact, she’s never been inconvenient because she’s a kid.
I think about Daniel with Danny. How patient and kind he is. How whenever they’re talking, no matter how insignificant the topic is, he gives her his full attention. How even when she rejected him, he handled her with care. He put her comfort before his pride. How he went out of his way to make space for her in his house. How important it was to him that she know she’s welcome there. He had every right to reject us both, but he never faltered. He the moment he found out he was a father, he didn’t hesitate. He simply bought a car seat and Googled questions to ask a four-year-old.
Another memory hits my chest like a physical thing. Daniel heard that Danny had a fever, so he rushed over, scooped her up and brought her to a hospital. When I was twelve, I came down with a bad case of mono. I remember my fever spiking to a hundred and four. I remember my dad sighing, calling my pediatrician and asking what he should do, and instead of taking me to the doctor or giving me medicine, he put me in a cold bath to get the fever down.
No sense of urgency, no sense of fear or concern.
Christ. And here I was, turning my back on a good man who puts me and our daughter first, for a family of what? A father who, I’m starting to suspect, never really cared about me. A stepmother who is bed-ridden until someone worth using the dining room shows up? And two stepsisters who would happily take Daniel away from me because he has money, and they don’t believe I deserve it?
No. Daniel’s right. I can wish and hope and pray that Gen, Chastity, Grace and me become a family, but I can’t make them care about me.
And then the mom-guilt comes in again. In trying to honor my father’s dying wish, I’ve placed Danny in the exact situation I didn’t want her in. Our room was in the basement, so she didn’t disturb Gen and my sisters. We cooked and cleaned on the first level, but we always had to be quiet because Chastity and Grace usually slept in.
When the alternative is a beautiful home, with a good man, who loves us both hard enough to never feel like a burden.
Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I push to stand. I’m not a bad person for wanting better for myself and Danny. I’m not a bad person for turning my back on what I thought was family. I’m not a bad person for breaking my promise to my dad.
But I am a bad person for hurting Daniel the way that I have.
Chapter thirty
Daniel
Daniel
I sit for an hour, letting Danny watch cartoons on the too-tiny TV in the corner of the room. Tina comes and checks on us before her shift ends. Danny’s obviously fine, besides a runny nose and sore throat. Tina reminds me, kindly, that kids get sick, and it’s actually beneficial for their immune systems. I’m still sick with worry and hurt and helplessness that weighs heavily on me. Both from Danny and Nell.
My sweet, beautiful Nell.
My perfect, precious Danny.
I don’t know what to do with all of these warring emotions, so I simply breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. Eventually I’ll figure everything out, right? Eventually it won’t hurt so much, right?
Nell returns and stands for a moment, watching me. I can’t look at her. I don’t know what I’m going to see written on her face, and frankly, I’m not sure if I can handle it either way.
She sits down softly in the chair beside me.
“I think Danny should stay with you for a few days,” she says quietly. She rests her hand on my thigh, and I lay mine on top of hers, squeezing her hand hard. I won’t let myself hope yet. But it’s also not a flat-out rejection. I nod. I hadn’t thought beyond the hospital, but I would feel better with Danny sleeping in a warm bed, in my house, knowing she’s close so I can check on her whenever I want. I know Nell is her mother and has every right to take her back to that basement, but it would kill me inside.
Nell squeezes my hand back before she moves to Danny’s bed.
“I think you and Daddy should spend a few days hanging out at his house. I have some things I need to take care of that would be really boring for you. Would you like that? Maybe you can show Daddy how you want your new room decorated?” she asks.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Danny nodding excitedly.
Nell drops a kiss to her hair. “And I’m always only a phone call away. Can you FaceTime me tonight, before bed?” Nell asks Danny, who giggles and tells her, ‘Of course’.
As she passes me, the urge to reach out and stop her, grip her hand again, ask her what she’s thinking rides me hard, but I don’t. Nell ghosts a hand through my hair tenderly before she turns and leaves.
Discharge was easy, but I have to carry Danny everywhere because we left her shoes at her house.
