Page 19 of Baby, One More Time

My mom comes into the hall and joins the group hug. My heart melts further in witnessing the joy on her face to have us back home. I only wish the circumstances were happier. But I believe moving back to Brooklyn was the right choice.

“How was work, honey?” Mom asks, squeezing me a little.

“Great,” I say because I don’t want to overwhelm her with an over-the-top answer like: ‘Today’s been life changing.’ Or saying I realized that in all this time I’ve never stopped loving the girl next door, or that I wouldn’t mind asking her on a date—or at least apologize for what I did back then.

And maybe I’m too fresh on the divorce to be in any position to date, but I felt more alive today than in the last two years of my marriage. True, my ex-wife and I had been over for a long time when she left. She resented me for getting her pregnant and derailing her acting career—as if an IUD malfunctioning could be my fault. And I resented her for always referring to Nora as a mistake. Deep down, I’ve always known we weren’t a good match. I dreamed of having a big family, and she struggled with having just one kid. And an unplanned pregnancy wasn’t the best reason to get married in the first place.

But I still felt we owed it to the baby to give being a family a shot. But we gave it our all and still failed.

In the past few years, we stayed together only for Nora’s sake—probably a mistake given my ex bolted for good in the end, leaving not just me, but Nora too. She didn’t even ask us to follow her. True, with her switching country every other month, it would’ve been impossible. I want Nora to grow up in as stable an environment as possible. And Sierra couldn’t drop the heavy baggage of having a family fast enough. She couldn’t wait to be rid of us. And while I understand the sentiment when it comes to me, I’ll never understand how she could abandon Nora.

Still, even if my heart didn’t break in the split, I’m not sure I’m healed enough to welcome someone new into my life.

Marissa isn’t new, a little devil on my shoulder whispers, and I can’t help but smile as I picture her sea-green eyes, her cute freckles, silky hair, and her gorgeous smile—not that she showed it to me earlier. But her frowns were just as charming.

She’s always had that calming influence on me. Everything was great when I was with her. Until today, I hadn’t realized how, not once in the past sixteen years, have I had that sensation of total calmness, total contentment, total peace.

True, today’s meeting wasn’t exactly stress free, but it still left me with a clarity I haven’t had in years. I’m determined to get my life back on track. Nora’s counting on me. To be a good person and own up to my mistakes.

I have to apologize to Marissa.

But in the meantime, I’m content holding my daughter in my arms as we sit down to eat, discussing her day at school and bouncing off ideas for her first science project at school.

After dinner, I help Nora zipper up the new jacket I got her to face her first real fall. She refuses to wear a beanie as it’d ruin her hairstyle: a high ponytail that falls to her back with a few renegade strawberry blonde locks framing her face—she gets the blonde from her mother.

We wish my parents goodnight and walk the few blocks to our new home—what used to be my childhood home. When I was searching for a place to live near my parents and saw our old house had gone back on the market, I bought it at asking price without even thinking about it.

As we walk up the driveway now, I can’t help but stop and glance at the house next door. The living room has lights on. The Mayers are probably chilling in front of the TV after dinner.

Then a thought strikes me. I’d assumed the reason I wanted this house so badly was because I had the happiest childhood here and wanted to give Nora the same experience. Preserve what innocence she has left after the tough lesson her mother leaving has been.

But now, as I stare at the dark window to the bedroom of the girl who used to live next door, I wonder if the thought of being closer to Marissa wasn’t a factor in my decision, too. How many nights did I spend, spying out my own window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her before I mustered up the courage to ask her out? Hundreds, just like the number of times I used that same window to sneak into her room after hours.

Ah, those nights; what I would give to have them back.

“Dad.” Nora pulls on my hand. “Are you okay?”

I look down at my daughter. “Yeah, why?”

“You’ve stopped in the middle of the driveway and are staring into space.”

Right.

“Are you sad again?”

It appears I’ve done a poor job of hiding from my very intuitive child how much the divorce has upset me. And the irony is the heartbreak is all for Nora and not myself.

“No.” I smile down at her. “I’m not sad, just the opposite. I was thinking how happy I am to have you home.”

She smiles back. “I’m happy to be home, too.”

I sigh in relief that she’s already calling this place home.

We walk the rest of the way to the house, and I let us in.

I get Nora a glass of milk, then we begin our bedtime ritual of a quick bath and a long storytelling session. Reading to Nora is my favorite daddy-daughter moment.

One hour later, as Nora begins to faintly snore in my arms, I close the storybook and gently lay her on the pillow. I stamp a soft kiss on her forehead and switch off the bedside lamp, leaving on her favorite unicorn night light so she won’t be afraid of the dark if she wakes up.

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