“Wow, you really want to get the hell out of New York, don’t you? Anyway, there is no ‘how long’—it’s a permanent job. You’d be working with production on our live series based out of Singapore, but you can keep shooting on the weekends. It’s a great location.”
“Great. When?” I never thought of myself as the type who ran away from things, but I was utterly helpless and hopeless. I felt like a caged animal.
“In the fall.”
“That far away?”
“Beggars can’t be choosers.”
“Fine, I’ll take it.” I hung up.
Grace tried calling me several times, but I never answered and she didn’t leave a voice mail. Finally, at ten p.m. that night, she texted me.
GRACE: Ash is a very strong-willed girl.
ME: Okay.
GRACE: I’m sorry to drop this on you. She told me to tell you that if you don’t want to know her then you’ll have to tell her to her face.
ME: Grace, while you’re at it, why don’t you come here and cut my balls off or steal a kidney?
GRACE: I’m in so much pain over this but Ash doesn’t deserve any more heartache. She’s your flesh and blood.
I didn’t even know Ash, but suddenly the thought of causing her pain caused me pain. I knew I had to see her.
ME: Fine I’ll meet her. What time will she be home tomorrow?
GRACE: Three thirty.
ME: I don’t want to see you.
GRACE: That’s fine.
When I got to Grace’s building the next day, a taxi was just pulling up and I could see a teenage girl through the window. Ash. I wished I had five extra minutes to prepare what to say, to figure out how to tell this kid that life sucks and it’s too late to go back and fix things, to just forget about me.
She stepped out of the cab and marched right up to me. “Hi,” she said, holding her hand out. “I’m Ash.” She was bold and confident. Not unlike her mother.
“Hi . . . Ash.” I was still testing out the name on my tongue. My face was frozen in a look of both curiosity and dread.
She wasn’t smiling but she wasn’t glaring, either. Her expression was soft. “Just so you know, my mom told me everything, and I’ve seen pictures of you before.”
“That’s good.”
“Do you want to get a coffee or something?” She arched her thin eyebrows. I was stunned by her friendliness. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Shouldn’t I be asking her that? I had expected to run the conversation.
She was taller than Grace and wearing a shirt with the sides cut out; I could see her bra. I thought she couldn’t really be my daughter, but somehow I knew that she was. How did I have a daughter her age? I felt old in an instant. This girl was a reminder of all the time Grace and I had lost.
“How old are you?” I asked, though I already knew.
“Fifteen.”
“Fifteen going on twenty-five?”
“I had to grow up fast,” she shot back. “Are you gonna start doing the dad thing right away, ’cause I’m cool with that, but I think we should have that coffee first.”
“You’re allowed to drink coffee?”
She laughed. I think she liked that I was concerned. “Yeah, I’ve been allowed to drink coffee since I was ten.” A man walked past us and looked at me peculiarly. “Nothing to see, Charlie,” Ash said. She leaned in, “Don’t worry about him, he’s just bored.”
I nodded. This is my kid. This is my daughter. Reaching my index finger out, I poked her in the shoulder.
“I’m real,” she said, smirking. “You have a child.”
“Not really a child, though, are you?”
“Finally! The respect I deserve.”
I laughed nervously. I couldn’t believe how much I instantly liked her. She was funny and cute and so much like Grace when she was young. After a few awkward moments, she began walking up the steps.
“Ash, there’s just a lot I have to absorb here.”
“I’m not gonna be destroyed if you don’t want anything to do with me.”
I grabbed her arm and spun her around. I was just realizing that I did want something to do with her, but I didn’t know how to say it.
“Look, I only learned of your existence less than a week ago.” She looked down at my hand grasping her arm and then looked up into my eyes and squinted, searching for something. I recognized myself in her expression immediately. “Sorry,” I said, looking at my hand like I had no control over it. “Let’s get that coffee.”
She huffed. “Okay, okay. Let me drop off my bag inside and tell Mom.”
“Fine.” I nodded, noticing how, instead of saying “my mom,” she had said “Mom,” the way a kid does when she references one parent to the other.
My mind wouldn’t even let me attempt to make sense of how I felt. I watched the door until Ash came back out. She had wrapped her hair in a twisty bun on top of her head, the way her mother always did. Her face was scrunched up and she was scowling as she handed me my shirt. “Jesus Christ, she’s a mess in there. Way to go.”
“Your mom and I have some issues . . .”
“Grown-ups complicate things,” she said before turning and heading down the street. “Come on.”