Pulled(86)
Author: A.L. Jackson

You are just precious, aren’t you?” Dad sidled to them, joining in the slow dance and running the back of his hand tenderly over the swel of the baby’s plump cheek.

She looked at down on me, curious. “Does he have a name yet?”

I had no idea what to say. Vanessa may very wel have named him, but I had no clue. For some reason though, I thought not. Everything I’d seen so far had only given him the title of “baby boy Montgomery.” I shrugged, nodding my head in Vanessa’s

direction. “We haven’t talked about it yet.” I figured that was honest enough. If she had named him without me, that was my own fault. I hadn’t been here for his birth, and I figured I’d pretty much given up that right. I would be okay with whatever she chose.

They both turned at once toward her as if they hadn’t even noticed she was there. Mom had never even met her, and I could see curiosity burn in her as she stared down at her grandson’s mother. Vanessa lay with her back to us, completely still , too still , and I could tel she was no longer asleep as could my mother.

I really couldn’t hold it against her. I couldn’t begin to imagine how uncomfortable she must feel, witnessing such an intimate exchange by a group of people she didn’t know, our only link to her found in the blood that ran through the child.

Reticent, Mom handed my son back to me,

mindful of the glaring unease Vanessa was experiencing with their presence. “I love you, Daniel. And you, too, little man. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Her eyes were damp, filled with joy.

Dad kissed my baby’s forehead, before clapping me lightly on the back. “Cal me if you need me.” His simple words always meant so much more.

“I will…and thank you.”

They smiled warmly and left the room. The door swung closed behind them and left me alone with my son and his mother. Intense pressure weighed down the air in the room. Vanessa’s voice broke through the tension, coarse and muffled by the pil ow pressed into her face.

“You weren’t here.”

I sighed, readjusting my son and mustering the strength I was going to need to have this very difficult conversation. It was high time we had it, though, because our son deserved that we come to terms, and I knew part of those terms would include me conceding a bit.

I opened my mouth and accepted some of the responsibility, speaking softly to the woman who I still held a great amount of animosity for, but with who I also shared this amazing child. “I’m sorry. I should have been.” She sniffled and turned her head in my direction, her cheek flat against the pil ow. I focused on her. Even in the subdued light of the dim room, the whites of her blue eyes were a shocking crimson from what appeared to be days of crying. There were dark bags under her eyes, and her face looked puffy and bloated, her lips cracked. A huge lump formed in my throat, and I nearly choked on my guilt.

She looked awful and incredibly tired.

She barely wheezed out, “I needed you,” before succumbing to another bout of emotion that racked her body as she wept into her pil ow.

I truly felt terrible.

“Vanessa,” I tried to comfort her from afar, but I had no idea how to do that. I really didn’t even know her, and I had no idea what she needed to hear. “Please, listen to me. I really am sorry I wasn’t here. Who was with you?” Her head snapped up, and she glared at me, yel ing, “No one, Daniel! I was alone! I don’t have anybody. I told you that already.”

I cringed at her harshness and shielded my baby’s exposed ear with the palm of my hand. I bit my tongue to refrain from shouting back at her, trying not to make matters worse. We needed a resolution, and I couldn’t all ow this exchange to end the way all the others had.

I focused on my son’s very rapid breaths that were a reminder of exactly why I was having this conversation.

“I’m sorry, Vanessa. You shouldn’t have had to go through this alone.”

It didn’t seem to placate her as she seethed back through clenched teeth, “Where were you?” In the face of such a distraught woman, it occurred to me that lying would probably have been a lot easier on her, but I had told her repeatedly that Melanie was my life.

She was just going to have to accept it.

“Melanie and I were out of town for the holidays.” She yelped as if she were in physical pain, her fists wound tightly in the sheets. The pained expression on her face was such that she could have been my wife, and I’d just told her I was having an affair. It would have made me angry if it hadn’t been so pitiful. I scratched my head, sighing as I pushed forward.

“Listen, Vanessa, what you did was wrong, but I can’t regret that now.” I glanced down at my son. The love I felt when I looked at his precious face sent my head spinning. I might regret her, but I could never regret him, and I’d accepted that I wouldn’t have him without her.

I thought about how terrible it would have been had I grown up with my parents despising each other. I couldn’t all ow for my son to grow up the way. I took a deep breath and made a concession—for my son. “Do you remember when you came to my office that day? When you asked us to be friends? Can we try that?” She froze, gasping, before turning on her side and raising herself up on her elbow. “You want to be friends?” she asked, dubious, but clearly excited by the idea.

I nodded, forcing a very meek, halfhearted smile.

“And see where it goes?”

I groaned, throwing my head back exasperation.

“No, Vanessa.” I shook my head, once again amazed at how irrational and immature she was.

“Look, I need you to understand something.” I don’t know why I felt compel ed to tel her, but maybe if I did, if I gave her the whole story, she would finally comprehend there was no possibility of anything ever developing between us. “I know you know very little about my past, much like I know nothing of yours.” I paused and searched her sul en and dejected face, praying what I was saying would some sort of impact on her.

“Vanessa, I fel in love with Melanie when I was sixteen.” Her sharp intake of air told me she was listening. I hugged my son to me, kissing him softly on the head, giving her a moment to recover. I could only assume she’d believed that dinner was the first time I’d ever met Melanie, and we were sharing nothing more than a torrid fling.

“We were so happy.” I laughed wistfully,

remembering how incredible those first years had been.

“We were so excited when we found out we were going to have a baby.” I chortled through the heavy emotion.