Another Piece of My Heart (41 page)

I pull the robe over them tightly so I won’t think about it anymore.

“I love the idea of having Cal, too.” I stop. “I don’t want to lie to you. I don’t love the idea of it. I’ve been
trying
to love the idea of it, because I can’t stand the guilt. But every time I indulge myself in this fantasy you have of this ready-made family, it feels … wrong.

“It doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to be
my
reality. Because it’s not. I’m not ready to be a mother, and I don’t want to disrupt everything in that kid’s life. Everything in all their lives.” I trail off sadly.

“My mom was only pointing out the truth. My dad and Andi
are
his parents, and he’s better off with them. They love him, and he loves them. They’re the only parents he’s ever known, and look how much he freaked out whenever I said anything about being his mommy. We can’t do this to them.

“And I don’t want to. I gave birth to him, it’s true, but I was a…” I struggle for the words, knowing I’d just read them somewhere in some magazine article about surrogacy. “… a gestational carrier! I’m not his mom. And I don’t want to be. I was trying to do the right thing, but this isn’t the right thing. The right thing is to leave him to grow up where he is.”

There is silence on the other end of the phone.

I think I might throw up. My heart is beating so loudly it’s making me think I’m deaf. That maybe Michael is speaking, and I’m not hearing him because all I can hear is this thumping in my ears. And then I hear him.

“You’re sure this is what you want? You’re not just saying this because your dad terrified you by talking about the legal fight?”

“What my dad said is a whole other issue. But yes. I’m sure. I’m so sorry. I totally understand if you want to … I don’t know … break up with me. I mean, I get it. I know you wanted the whole package, and I get it if you…” Now I really do feel sick.

“Emily!” Michael jumps in. “Will you stop? I only wanted what’s best for you. I thought you
wanted
Cal. I’ve been supporting you because I thought, I … assumed … that’s what you wanted, that’s why you were so willing to come back to Mill Valley.”

“I came back for
you
!” I’m kind of stunned at what he just said. “You knew that! That was the only reason.” I don’t want to have a fight with him, but what kind of bullshit is that?

“I have always been reluctant about taking Cal.” I know I sound a bit pissed now, and I lower my voice. “Whenever you talk about it, and it’s always
you
who brings it up, I either said nothing, or told you that I wasn’t ready, but you never wanted to hear it. You had this fantasy about Cal and where he should be in our lives, and I was too … scared to tell you I didn’t feel the same way in case I … in case I lost you.

“Seriously, Michael? It’s bullshit that you would even think I wanted this. I never gave you any indication of that. You could see I was uncomfortable. I never actually said that I wanted this, too, I just didn’t give you a definitive no.”

“I’m not a mind reader,” he says angrily. “If you didn’t give me a definitive no, how was I supposed to know?”

“Oh, come on,” I say. “I may not have spelled it out, but surely my lack of enthusiasm counted for something?”

I am amazed at what I am saying. Amazed that I am wading into what does appear to be a fight, but in saying all this stuff, I realize how much I have changed.

I think about all the times I’ve done stuff to make other people happy—my God, those awful boys I fucked, not because I wanted to but because I wanted to be accepted—and I realize I’m finally being honest. I’m saying what I really feel, and stating what I really want, and I’m not lying down like a doormat and letting myself get walked over.

I may have been a holy handful with my family, but I wasn’t like that with everyone else. When I was a teenager, I hated everyone, mostly because I presumed they would feel the same way, and I figured I’d get there first.

Unless I wanted you to like me. Then I would twist myself into a pretzel to become whomever you wanted me to be.

I’m thinking about this as Michael and I have our first phone fight, and I start to smile, which is totally weird, and I can’t figure it out until I realize why I’m smiling. For the first time in my life, I’m secure enough to be honest, and I’m secure enough to have a fight! And not just that, I started it!

Do you have any idea how huge this is? Huge! Monumental! I don’t have to be who I think Michael wants me to be in order for him to love me.

And that’s why I’m smiling. Because it’s all going to be okay. If Michael loves me, he’ll accept me, even if my life plans are different from his. And if he doesn’t? I’m still going to be okay. If my life is supposed to be in London with him, then great, but if I’m supposed to go back to Portland by myself, that’s … okay. Yeah, I’ll have a bit of a broken heart for a while, but I’m looking after myself, and I’m going to be fine.

If this relationship stands a chance, if this really is “the real deal,” we have to be honest with each other, even when we’re worried about what the other might think.

Oh my God! Does this mean I’m finally growing up?

*   *   *

“I knew you came back for me, but it’s not fair to say…” And then Michael pauses. For a long time.

I sit quietly and wait, amazed that instead of freaking out, I am surprisingly, almost eerily, calm.

“You’re right.” When Michael finally speaks, his voice is quiet. “I
have
had this fantasy. I wanted you to be involved in Cal’s life because I have spent my life feeling like my own mother abandoned me, and I guess I … I saw things in black or white. I thought it was either take him, or ignore him. And ignoring him felt like you’d be abandoning him, doing what my birth mother did to me.”

“But why would you think that?” I am stunned. “I haven’t ignored Cal since I’ve been back. We had some great times, and I’ve loved being with him. When I was allowed.”

“I know that. I think that’s why I started to think it could be … permanent. I thought that we, together, were able to offer Cal a stability you would never have been able to give him as a single mother, and I thought you would like that. Or, I thought it would change things for you, that maybe that was the reason why you hadn’t wanted him.”

“I never said that.” My voice is quiet.

“I know,” Michael says. “I guess I thought I knew you so well, I knew what you were secretly thinking.”

“Well. You were wrong.”

“I was. I’m so sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for trying to force you to want something you didn’t want. And I’m sorry for not hearing you.”

“I’m sorry, too.” The relief that washes over me is indescribable. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t honest about my feelings.” I stretch out my legs, grinning at my stubble, knowing that it won’t be there for very much longer. “So … you’re okay with it? You’re okay with not bringing Cal? With me being a big sister to him, but that’s all?”

“Yes,” he says, and I can tell he means it. “I’m very okay. You’re in his life, that’s the most important thing. I’m never going to make assumptions about what you’re thinking or feeling again.”

“Michael?” I am now serious. “Can we make a pact? That we talk about everything in the future, that we never have this kind of breakdown again? I want us always to be honest with each other, and not to keep quiet because we’re frightened of what the other might think.”

“I agree. Were you frightened of what I would think?”

“Terrified.” I laugh then. It comes out as a high-pitched giggle, which doesn’t sound like me at all, and I know it’s nerves. “I thought you’d end it.”

“End it?” Michael is shocked. “Emily! I love you, and you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t have ended it. I’m just grateful your mom intervened so we were able to talk about it in time instead of making a huge mistake. And I do see how your dad and Andi love him, and how he’s happy.”

“Thank you.” I am filled with a wave of love for this good, good man.

“So … when are you going to tell your dad?”

“Today. My mom’s going with me.” I don’t know if this is the right thing, but I do know that the thought of even walking up that garden path by myself, like I did yesterday, makes me feel sick.

“Oh, God,” I groan. “I just want to turn the clock back to six months ago, when everything in life was good.”

“Great. Thanks a lot,” sniffs Michael.

“Not you! I just mean this shit with my dad and Andi. You cannot even begin to imagine how awful yesterday was. And the worst part was I turned back into a teenager. I came back here after three years, feeling like I was going to show them how mature I am, and how grown-up, and instead I sat there feeling angry, and resentful, and hating them.”

“Hating them, or hating Andi?” Michael asks gently.

Of course it was hating Andi. I have always hated Andi, but as I think that, I realize it’s not true. I felt it for years, but there were moments, so many moments, when I came so close to loving her, when I thought that perhaps we could find a way to be friends, find a way through.

I came back thinking it’s time to put the past behind us, and instead I could tell, from the moment Andi walked in and saw me, that nothing had changed. I might have changed, but she hasn’t.

But do I really hate her? I think about how she looked after me when I was pregnant. I think about her being there, holding my hand, making sure I was okay during the birth.

I think about the way she stepped in to look after Cal, and look after me at the same time. And I realize I don’t hate her. Not anymore. Perhaps I never did, but I hated that she didn’t love me; that, unlike Sophia, I never felt like her child.

Hate is a strong emotion, and as I sit talking on the phone with Michael, thinking about my life, I realize that I haven’t got the energy for it anymore. I haven’t got the energy to hate Andi. I just want us all to be okay.

“Em?” Michael prompts. “You still there?”

“Sorry. Just thinking. I can’t hate Andi anymore. There’s no point, and I’m tired of fighting with her. I’m tired of fighting with them, but I don’t even know if they’ll ever forgive me. Even when I tell them I’m not taking Cal, I don’t see them forgiving me. I think I just fucked up my relationship with my dad, and my family, forever.” Tears spring unexpectedly into my eyes as I say this, and I blink them away, hard.

“Nothing is forever. You’re his little girl. Trust me, I know these things. Daddies love their little girls forever. They may not immediately forgive you, but you can make a start by apologizing. Then it just takes time, but now’s your chance to show them you’re doing the right thing.”

“I wish you were here,” I say. “It would be so much easier to do this with you here.”

“You’re going to be fine,” he says.

And I know it’s true.

Fifty-nine

As they turn the corner home, Ethan takes a moment to register before slowing the car. They are returning from filling out the paperwork to file an instant petition in court to prevent Emily from taking Cal, when they see Brooke’s car in the driveway, Brooke and Emily standing on the doorstep.

“Oh, Jesus,” whispers Andi, lifting a hand to her forehead as a familiar wave of panic washes over her. “I can’t do this today. I don’t want to see her. I don’t even want to look at her. Why is she here? Why are they here?” These last words come out in a hiss as Ethan lays a hand on her arm.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Stay in the car, and I’ll find out. If it helps”—he exhales loudly, with a shake of his head—“I don’t want to see her, either.”

He opens the car door and stands there, looking at both his ex-wife and daughter, waiting for an explanation. Emily cannot meet his eyes. Brooke seems to be nudging her, urging her to say something. She doesn’t.

“I’m sorry we’re descending on you like this,” Brooke says eventually, uncomfortably, still looking to Emily to interject. “Emily has something to say to you.”

“What is it?” Ethan’s voice is short.

“Well, it’s to both you and Andi. Could we maybe go inside?”

“No,” Ethan says. “Andi and I are exhausted and upset. We just can’t do this. We’re really not that interested in hearing what you have to say. Not anymore. Please.” His voice softens as he starts to choke up. “Please. Just leave.” He drops his hands to his side, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Emily’s words come out in a rush. Ethan thinks of all the times he has heard those words, over all the years.

I’m sorry, Daddy.

Those words have always torn at his heartstrings. Whatever transgression she has made, whomever she has screamed at, however powerful the tantrum, he has always,
always,
instantly forgiven all upon hearing those words.

Not anymore.

“Please. Just leave,” he says again quietly, wearily, turning to go back to the car.

“Ethan,” Brooke commands sternly, grabbing his arm, forcing him to turn back around and face them. “She’s still your daughter. I know terrible things were said yesterday. She’s not here to apologize. She’s here to explain.”

“I’m not interested,” Ethan says, noting that Andi has put the car window down slightly and is listening. “We’re not interested. We’ll see you in court.”

“I don’t want him!” Emily grabs Ethan’s arm to physically stop him. “I came here to apologize, and to tell you that you can keep him. I’m not going to take him, okay? I was trying to do what I thought I
should
do, feel what I thought I
should
feel, even though I … didn’t. You were right. About everything. I don’t want to be his mom, and I don’t want to raise a child. I know he’s happy here, and I know you’re his parents, okay? I’m going to London with Michael, and I’m not taking Cal. You can keep him. He’s yours.” She looks frantically from her father to Andi, waiting for a reaction, but neither of them speaks.

Ethan stands, frozen, unsure of what to believe, what to think. He turns only when he hears the car door, and sees Andi, walking up to them, reaching out and taking his hand.

Andi knows she shouldn’t be feeling the relief she is feeling. Emily is so mercurial, how does she know Emily won’t; turn around next week and demand him again?