Proving Paul's Promise
Page 49
“Of course, he does. You’re his mother.”
“I just wanted to do what was best for him, you know?” This time, I use Paul’s sleeve to wipe my eyes. I blink hard trying to clear my vision.
“That’s what parents do. We do what’s in the best interest of our children.” He kisses me softly. “Thank you for showing me these.”
“Thank you for looking at them.” I reach into the box and pull out the letters. “She writes me these long letters. Do you want to read them?”
He looks surprised. “Do you want me to read them?”
I nod. “If you want to.” My heart aching so f**king much right now, and I feel like I’m hanging out there on a tightrope, just waiting for a stiff wind to send me careening into a ravine full of vipers and alligators.
“I want to.”
He grabs my tightrope and steadies it, like I need him to do, with just a few simple words. I want to. “I’m going to go play with Hayley,” I say.
I get up and go to Hayley’s room, and as I turn the corner, I can hear the first envelope crinkle. I have read them a million times. I know every word by heart.
I don’t know why I wanted to share them with him, except for the fact that he loves me. And since he loves me, I want to let him inside. He promised not to tear down my walls, but he wants to come inside with me. And since he does, I’m going to let him.
His voice calls me back. “Friday!” he yells. He looks at one of the envelopes.
“What?” I ask, turning back to face him.
“Your real name is-”
“Don’t say it!” I cry. “I never want to hear that name again.” That person no longer exists.
He grins at me. “I’m just honored that I get to know the person you were.” His face softens. “And the person you are.”
I shake my head and flip him off. I can hear his laughter all the way down the hall.
“Hey, Hayley,” I say as I sit down and pick up one of her action figures. She has Barbies, too, but she would rather play with her Legos and building blocks. Maybe she’ll be an engineer one day. Or maybe she’ll be an amazing tattoo artist like her dad. I make her action figure kiss her Barbie, and she giggles. “I think they’re in love,” I whisper.
“Like you and my daddy,” she says back quietly.
I nod. And emotion clogs my throat again. I turn my head and cough, and then I dump a box of Legos on the floor. “I think Barbie needs a fortress,” I say.
She nods, and we start to build a plastic fortress together, because sometimes a girl just needs a f**king fortress.
Paul
I’m surprised to find that two hours have passed when I finally close the lid of Friday’s box of secrets and push it to the side. I rock my head back and forth and crack my neck, stretching because I have been sitting in one place for way too long. But once I started reading, I just couldn’t stop.
Jacob’s adoptive mother, Jill, had poured her heart out on the pages in more than one letter. There was no doubt about it: she wanted Friday to be a part of her son’s life. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have reached out to her with the heartfelt emotion that she did.
Jill had been married for ten years when she and her husband adopted Jacob. He was their first and only child. For years, Jill frantically reached out to Friday, begging her to come visit with Jacob. She wants Friday to meet him. She made no mistake at all in the words. Jill is his mother and she always will be, but she firmly believes that Friday can have a place in his life, too. I happen to agree with her.
I get up and go to check on Friday and Hayley, but I stumble to a stop when I turn the corner into Hayley’s room. They’re both asleep on the bed on their stomachs with an open book in front of them. Friday has changed into her pajamas and it looks as though she was reading to Hayley when they both fell asleep. But what kills me is that their noses are turned toward one another, so close they’re sharing breaths, and my daughter’s hand is tucked into Friday’s.
I take a mental picture, because I never, ever want to forget what this feels like. Click! Click! Click! I cement it in my head, because my heart is so happy it’s ready to burst, and I don’t want to let this moment go.
I don’t wake them up. Instead, I pick up some of the toys Hayley has left lying around the room. I put her dolls on the top shelf, and her trucks and matchbox cars go in the bucket at the foot of her bed.
I laugh when I see they built a big house out of building blocks and they put one of her male actions figures in there with Barbie. I look closer. Are their faces pressed together? It looks almost like they’re kissing. Leave it to Friday…
Friday sat and played with my daughter for two hours, and then she read to her and she fell asleep on her bed. I want to see this every night for the rest of my life. I want to wake Friday up and take her to my bed, but there’s something I need to do first.
There’s a possibility she’ll hate me for it, but it needs to be done. I go into the living room, pull out my phone, and search the web. It’s a huge violation of Friday’s privacy, I know, but I can’t help it. She has a son out there, and she needs to know him. And he needs to know her just as much. It only takes two wrong numbers before I find her.
“Hi, is this Jill?” I ask.
“Yes,” the lady says.
“Do you have a son named Jacob?”
“Yes,” she replies, but this time, there’s a question in her tone. “Who is this?”
“I just wanted to do what was best for him, you know?” This time, I use Paul’s sleeve to wipe my eyes. I blink hard trying to clear my vision.
“That’s what parents do. We do what’s in the best interest of our children.” He kisses me softly. “Thank you for showing me these.”
“Thank you for looking at them.” I reach into the box and pull out the letters. “She writes me these long letters. Do you want to read them?”
He looks surprised. “Do you want me to read them?”
I nod. “If you want to.” My heart aching so f**king much right now, and I feel like I’m hanging out there on a tightrope, just waiting for a stiff wind to send me careening into a ravine full of vipers and alligators.
“I want to.”
He grabs my tightrope and steadies it, like I need him to do, with just a few simple words. I want to. “I’m going to go play with Hayley,” I say.
I get up and go to Hayley’s room, and as I turn the corner, I can hear the first envelope crinkle. I have read them a million times. I know every word by heart.
I don’t know why I wanted to share them with him, except for the fact that he loves me. And since he loves me, I want to let him inside. He promised not to tear down my walls, but he wants to come inside with me. And since he does, I’m going to let him.
His voice calls me back. “Friday!” he yells. He looks at one of the envelopes.
“What?” I ask, turning back to face him.
“Your real name is-”
“Don’t say it!” I cry. “I never want to hear that name again.” That person no longer exists.
He grins at me. “I’m just honored that I get to know the person you were.” His face softens. “And the person you are.”
I shake my head and flip him off. I can hear his laughter all the way down the hall.
“Hey, Hayley,” I say as I sit down and pick up one of her action figures. She has Barbies, too, but she would rather play with her Legos and building blocks. Maybe she’ll be an engineer one day. Or maybe she’ll be an amazing tattoo artist like her dad. I make her action figure kiss her Barbie, and she giggles. “I think they’re in love,” I whisper.
“Like you and my daddy,” she says back quietly.
I nod. And emotion clogs my throat again. I turn my head and cough, and then I dump a box of Legos on the floor. “I think Barbie needs a fortress,” I say.
She nods, and we start to build a plastic fortress together, because sometimes a girl just needs a f**king fortress.
Paul
I’m surprised to find that two hours have passed when I finally close the lid of Friday’s box of secrets and push it to the side. I rock my head back and forth and crack my neck, stretching because I have been sitting in one place for way too long. But once I started reading, I just couldn’t stop.
Jacob’s adoptive mother, Jill, had poured her heart out on the pages in more than one letter. There was no doubt about it: she wanted Friday to be a part of her son’s life. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have reached out to her with the heartfelt emotion that she did.
Jill had been married for ten years when she and her husband adopted Jacob. He was their first and only child. For years, Jill frantically reached out to Friday, begging her to come visit with Jacob. She wants Friday to meet him. She made no mistake at all in the words. Jill is his mother and she always will be, but she firmly believes that Friday can have a place in his life, too. I happen to agree with her.
I get up and go to check on Friday and Hayley, but I stumble to a stop when I turn the corner into Hayley’s room. They’re both asleep on the bed on their stomachs with an open book in front of them. Friday has changed into her pajamas and it looks as though she was reading to Hayley when they both fell asleep. But what kills me is that their noses are turned toward one another, so close they’re sharing breaths, and my daughter’s hand is tucked into Friday’s.
I take a mental picture, because I never, ever want to forget what this feels like. Click! Click! Click! I cement it in my head, because my heart is so happy it’s ready to burst, and I don’t want to let this moment go.
I don’t wake them up. Instead, I pick up some of the toys Hayley has left lying around the room. I put her dolls on the top shelf, and her trucks and matchbox cars go in the bucket at the foot of her bed.
I laugh when I see they built a big house out of building blocks and they put one of her male actions figures in there with Barbie. I look closer. Are their faces pressed together? It looks almost like they’re kissing. Leave it to Friday…
Friday sat and played with my daughter for two hours, and then she read to her and she fell asleep on her bed. I want to see this every night for the rest of my life. I want to wake Friday up and take her to my bed, but there’s something I need to do first.
There’s a possibility she’ll hate me for it, but it needs to be done. I go into the living room, pull out my phone, and search the web. It’s a huge violation of Friday’s privacy, I know, but I can’t help it. She has a son out there, and she needs to know him. And he needs to know her just as much. It only takes two wrong numbers before I find her.
“Hi, is this Jill?” I ask.
“Yes,” the lady says.
“Do you have a son named Jacob?”
“Yes,” she replies, but this time, there’s a question in her tone. “Who is this?”
