Part Twenty
It’s past midnight when Max finally comes to bed. He and Michael have been watching the football game, laughing like children as they good-naturedly rib one another. When it was time for Allie to go to bed, I excused myself as well. I’m glad that Max has Michael - someone who is just like him, the only person who is just like him – in his life. I felt the need to give them some space and just let them be guys for an evening.
But I have news to tell Max. Or at least I think I do. I listen to him brushing his teeth in the master bath, then I feel the mattress dip as he tries to get into bed without waking me. I’m not asleep – I’ve been lying here in the dark listening to them laugh like old times, wondering if I’m pregnant again. Without saying a word, I back up slightly, bumping my body into his, letting him know I’m awake.
Letting out a sleepy sigh, he wraps his arm around my waist and gives me a kiss on the side of the head. I know he must be exhausted, what with working all day then entertaining Michael all evening. And I know he’s got to get up early for work tomorrow, but there’s something I need to find out. Taking his hand in mine, I slide it down my body so that his palm is lying flat against me, below my belly button. I’m sure he thinks I’m going to drag his hand down farther than that, but when I stop I can almost feel the confusion coming off him in waves.
Then he’s moving away from me quickly, the lamp suddenly blazing in the room. I think I just got my answer. I sit up on one elbow and squint over my shoulder. Max looks like he’s just been caught peeing on the rose bushes.
“I am so sorry,” he says, a plethora of emotions swirling in his eyes. He’s shoved all of the way to the other side of the bed, up against the headboard. If I didn’t known better, I’d think he was cowering away from me.
I shift my weight, sitting up beside him. His eyes are round as they watch every one of my movements. I give a little sigh and brush my hair away from my face. “So it’s true, then.”
He nods mutely.
I hold my face in my hands as I try to process Max’s confirmation. I’m not sure how to feel about it. I certainly hadn’t planned on being pregnant again so soon. But I also don’t feel the dread I thought I would. I just feel kind of…numb.
“I was irresponsible,” Max announces.
I drop my hands slowly and turn my head to lift an eyebrow at him.
He draws in a breath, like he’s bucking up for the consequences. “I take full responsibility.”
I can’t help it – I burst out laughing. Max looks stung. I reach over and touch his arm while I try to contain myself.
“How noble of you,” I laugh. It’s so typical of him to want to take responsibility, to ease the pain of the world even if it means taking the blame for something that isn’t entirely his fault. “I think you had a willing partner.”
He concedes – slightly. “Yeah, but I – we should have been more careful. I know this isn’t what you wanted.”
That’s true. But it’s also not what I didn’t want. That’s as confusing as the inside of my head gets these days. Now that I’m looking at nine more months of pregnancy, I don’t entirely hate it.
“What do you want to do?” Max asks softly. “We can do…whatever it is you want to do.”
I meet his gaze and realize what he’s telling me – if I want an abortion, he’ll go through with it. I can see in his eyes that that definitely is not what he wants, but if I want it, then he’ll go along. It’s somewhat amazing to me that most of us assumed having children with the hybrids would be difficult, that babies would only come through some miracle. But we don’t seem to be having a problem in that department.
I bite my lip and shake my head. “No, Max, I don’t want an abortion.”
He practically wilts with relief, though he says nothing. I can see it in those eyes of his – they will always betray his emotions – he wants whatever is growing in my belly very badly.
“So,” I say, sliding down under the covers. “Here we go again, huh?”
He nods and slides in beside me. Reaching over, he rubs my shoulder. “You know I’ll be there for you, every step of the way.”
I nod. I know he will. When I was pregnant with Allie, he was always there, almost to the point of irritating me. Sometimes when you’re sick, you just want to be left alone. But even at my most unattractive, Max had no problem holding my hair out of the way while I puked.
“What is it?” I ask him quietly.
He grins, his beautiful face flooded with joy. “A boy.”
A boy. An heir to a throne he will never see and never take. I know Max loves Allie with all of his heart, but I can see that having a son is just about making him burst with pride.
“What do you want to name him?” I ask next.
Max’s grin widens. “I want to name him after my father.”
*****
Eighteen hours later, we sit in the car outside of a cheap motel. The paint is peeling from the exterior and the neon vacancy sign flickers against the darkening sky.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?” Max asks tenuously from the passenger seat. In the back, Allie is snoozing obliviously in her car seat.
I shake my head. “No. You stay here with Junior. I can do this.”
He takes my hand and offers me a wan smile and a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“I’ll be okay,” I tell him as I reach for the door handle. I want to believe I’ll be okay, that I can do this without falling apart. I tell myself not to get too stressed – I have Junior Number Two to think about now.
The November air is brisk as I walk toward a door with the number six on it. Behind it lurks my biological father, back from the past to beg forgiveness. When I phoned earlier to ask if I could stop by, he sounded surprised and elated all at once. I, on the other hand, feel neither of those emotions. I’m not really dreading this, I’m just not looking forward to it. It’s like having a dentist appointment looming at the end of the week when you know you’re going to get poked and prodded.
Straightening my jacket, I reach out and knock on the warped wooden door. In seconds, Carl answers, his face old and craggy. He can’t be more than fifty, but he looks fifteen years older than that. Has cancer done this to him? Or was it his lifestyle?
“Come in,” he urges, stepping out of my way.
I glance back at Max once, then step into the motel room. The air is thick with cigarette smoke and I immediately regret having worn this suede jacket – looks like a trip to the dry cleaner for it. I guess that cancer hasn’t slowed down his self-destructive habits any. For some reason I flash on Michael lighting up on Mae’s doorstep and I think I may need to start a personal quest to pester him into quitting. I can’t bear the thought of Michael slowly suffocating to death.
“I’m glad you came,” Carl says, easing himself down on the foot of the unmade bed. Most people would have straightened the bed if they knew they were getting company, but not my pop. “Do you want to sit?”
I shake my head and take up a spot by the window, leaning carefully against the old frame. “I have questions,” I tell him.
He nods. “Sure. Go ahead.”
“Are you married?”
“No.”
“Did you get remarried after you left mom?”
He nods. “Yes. Twice.”
Twice. Twice in twenty years. That’s some track record. But I really don’t care about his wives. “Do you have any other children?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just you.”
Just me. So it’s not like he’s occupied his time with rearing other kids. That fact leads me to believe he never wanted to be a father. “Why are you here?” I question gently. Of course, I already know the answer, but he’s the last person I will let know that my husband is an alien and already figured out the big secret.
At my question, he looks down to the floor and I wonder if it’s shame that has turned his gaze away from me. “I felt like I needed to make up for lost time.”
“Why now?”
He gives a shrug. “Why not?”
I can’t help the snort that escapes from my lips. “Why not? Why not ten years ago? Why not twenty years ago? What took you so long?”
Carl reaches over to the nightstand to retrieve his cigarettes. I’m making him nervous, though that hasn’t been my intent. Like Michael said, all I really want is answers. As Carl begins to light the cigarette, I remember that I’m not the only other person in this room – I’ve got a passenger that doesn’t need to have that crap circulating in his body.
“Could you not do that please?” I ask.
Sheepish, he lets the lighter die and tosses the cigarette onto the nightstand.
“Why now?” I repeat.
He draws in a deep breath and immediately coughs. I wait patiently while his body heaves with each raking breath. Finally, he wipes his nose and exhales slowly, spared from choking this time.
“Me and kids,” he begins.
“What about them?” I prod.
He looks up at me, just a hint of regret in his eyes. “I’m not good with them.”
Really? I can name a dozen incidents that I can remember from his short time in my life that point to that fact. Tell me something I didn’t already know.
“Then why did you have me?” I ask.
He shrugs. “We didn’t mean to. You were an accident.”
I will not let this stranger see me cry. His words cut straight into my heart, knowing that he and my mother never really wanted me. I think of Allie out in the car, who was also an accident, and how different her life will be from mine. I think of the growing life inside of me, accident number two, who will also not have the childhood I did. Allie and the new baby were accidents, and regardless of their beginnings they will have parents who love them. What Carl has just told me was that I was a mistake, one that he needed to run from.
Even though I’ve tried to hide my hurt, it must be apparent because he looks guilty. “Your mom loves you very much,” he says as a verbal Band-Aid. “She always did.”
“And what about you?” I manage. “You never did, did you?”
He holds his hands out, palms up. “I didn’t really know you. You were just a little kid, you know? How do you know a little kid?”
I shake my head, my heart filling with pity for him. “My daughter isn’t even a year old yet and I already know her. I know what she likes, what she doesn’t like, what makes her laugh. How can you say you lived with me for five years and never knew me?”
He doesn’t have an answer for that. After a long, uncomfortable pause, he offers, “But I want to know you now.”
And now I know. I know that I don’t want him to be a part of my life. He never wanted to be a parent to me and he’s only here to see if maybe he missed out on something good or to ease his conscience for being a bad parent.
“It doesn’t work that way,” I explain quietly. “Parenting doesn’t start when your children are already grown. I may have needed you when I was a kid but there’s nothing I need you for now. You can’t say that you don’t like kids, that you’re not good with kids and then run away, leaving them to struggle to grow up and adjust with only one parent and then come back when the work is all done and announce you want to be a father now.”
He looks at the floor again and I feel a pang of remorse. I didn’t come here to destroy him – I don’t have that much hate built up inside of me. I only want him to understand that there isn’t a place for him in my life.
“I’m not a victim anymore,” I tell him. “Maybe once upon a time your leaving tried to destroy me. I have too much pride to tell you what Mom and I went through trying to get by with just the two of us after you left. You hurt her. You hurt me. You made our lives difficult, but I survived that. I got by because of me. If anything, your leaving made me strong. And you can’t take that away from me.”
He draws in a tenuous breath. “I’m sorry.”
I give a shrug. “It’s too late for sorry. I appreciate your making the attempt to find me, but I’d also appreciate it if you’d just let me live my life. I took a friend’s advice and I’ve moved on now.”
He raises his head and I see no tears, only maybe the realization that he can’t fix this one. He’s defeated.
“I don’t hate you,” I say. “I don’t wish you any ill will. But you’re a stranger to me and I’d rather it remain that way.”
He nods his head once.
“Okay.” I start to move for the door. Before I go, though, I feel a tug of protectiveness toward my mother. “Oh, by the way. I’m asking you to not pay one of these visits to Amy. It took her a long time to get back on her feet and she doesn’t need you coming around to confuse her.”
He sets his jaw and I can’t determine if he had planned a trip to Roswell or not. “Done.”
“Thank you.” I give him one last look, then walk out the door and close it behind me.
As I walk toward the car, I don’t feel relieved, I don’t feel like the biggest bitch in the world, and I don’t feel sad. I don’t feel much different than I did when I walked in that hotel, except for maybe one thing.
I feel a small sense of peace. Michael was right – I got some answers. They weren’t the ones I wanted and the confirmation that my father never even liked me was painful. But at least now I know.
And I can take Liz’s advice to stop running and put the past behind me.
tbc
Thanks to all of you who hung in there with this truly depressing story - I admire your fortitude 
There may be a sequel some day, but I'll probably take a little rest now that this is finished. It was rather draining to write, since a lot of it hit very close to home. I'm thinking of maybe writing a holiday fluff fic next (since this last chapter put me in the mood