“I’m happy, Mommy. I’m just scared. What if he disappears again?” And there was the crux of all things Hannah feared. What if any of us left her? She bore a permanent scar, a never-abating fear of abandonment.
I hugged her fiercely and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, Hannah, we never know how long people will be in our lives. I hate that you have to worry about this, and you’re only six years old. But the best we can do is love people as much as we can while we’re together.” I had no idea if that was the right thing to say.
Leah had wandered into the corner and was reading books, already losing interest in the conversation. Her four-year-old mind couldn’t absorb the impact of my words. Leah would be fine, though. She welcomed change and challenge in a way that Hannah never did. I marveled at their differences—one reticent and wary, the other so tough, seeming to bravely confront life in every way. My lion and my lamb. I retrieved a globe from the playroom and I showed them Canada.
“Why is Daddy in Canada?” Hannah asked.
Good question. “I don’t know exactly, Hannah.” Then, I decided to tell her a small lie. “He went there for work, but made a mistake and told me the wrong place before he left. So I didn’t know he was there.”
“Will he come home and live here now? With you and me and Hannah and Drew?” Leah asked, and I almost laughed at the image. If it weren’t such a good question, I would have.
“I don’t know what will happen, Leah. We’ll have to see. Daddy is going to be in Canada for a while, but we’ll visit him every weekend.”
“And then he’ll live here?” Hannah pressed.
I sighed. “We’ll see, Hannah. We’ll see.”
The ride to Toronto felt significantly shorter than the one a week ago. Drew’s hand rested lightly on my knee, physically connecting what emotionally divided us. I drove faster than I should have, nervously tapping the steering wheel.
I tried to talk to the girls on the way about Greg. “You guys should know that Daddy was really sick. And he doesn’t look the same, okay? He feels a lot better now, so don’t be worried, but he looks skinnier.”
Hannah regarded me distrustfully. What are you hiding? she seemed to ask. Leah hummed and looked out the window, clutching Uglydoll and bouncing her feet. Drew remained silent next to me, an extra in the movie of our life. I caught his eye every so often, and he would wink or smile, making me think for the millionth time how lucky I was to have him. I could never give this up. I won’t do it. First things first. Get through today. Tomorrow I can worry about the rest of my life. My kids were about to see their father for the first time in two years.
When we got to Toronto, Drew dropped us off at the rehabilitation center and went to check into the hotel. We would call him when we were ready to leave. Before we went in, I kneeled down in front of the girls. What I was about to say made me uneasy, but I didn’t know what else to do.
“Listen, girls, don’t say anything to Daddy about Drew, okay?” They nodded, but I could tell from Hannah’s expression that she didn’t like it. Leah was agreeable; her age made her more compliant and trusting. “Daddy doesn’t remember very much. His memory got hurt when he was sick, so we’re going to spend today talking about all the things we did before he was gone and all the fun we had, okay?”
“Why do we have to lie?” Hannah asked.
I shook my head. “Don’t lie, Hannah. If Daddy has a question, always tell the truth. But this is going to be hard for Daddy because he’s missed us so much. I wanted to tell Daddy about Drew on my own. It’s a grown-up thing.”
Hannah finally agreed, but the mistrust in her eyes remained. I led them inside, through the hallways, and to the same room where I had spoken with Greg the last visit. I had a Disney movie tucked into my purse. If nothing else, that might help occupy Leah for the duration of our visit. I paused outside the door, holding Hannah’s hand tightly.
Leah gripped Hannah’s other hand, her smile brilliant and her feet tapping. “I’m so excited,” she stage whispered, giggling. Little Leah saw nothing but joy in the situation, a stark contrast to Hannah, who patiently waited for the other shoe to drop. But even Hannah grinned broadly.
I opened the door and was struck by déjà vu. Greg stood at the window, then turned to face us with the same expression. But tears streamed down his cheeks. I was taken aback. I had never seen Greg cry. He approached and, with the abandonment of a child, wrapped the girls in a hug. He sobbed then, raw and guttural. I felt a lump in my throat as I knelt with them, one hand on each of the girls’ backs. Hannah was crying, too.
“Why is everyone so sad, Mommy?” Leah asked.
I laughed through my own tears. “Oh, baby, everyone is so happy.”
I turned to watch Greg. Realization dawned on his face, his joy replaced by regret and then anger, a spectrum of emotions I’d never seen him have.