I brush off her hand and walk farther into the room. It’s not what I had expected it to look like. There’s a purple and green bedspread on a white metal bed. Framed flowers are on the walls, and the desk is covered in neon colored pens and pencils. There’s still unfinished homework waiting to be completed and a new book bag with tags on it ready to be taken to school.
This could have belonged to any other girl in the world, but not my Maddie. Her bedroom at home is full of hand-me-down furniture I got from the gang. There is the broken wood bed I glued back together myself, and the desk that belonged to a new rider’s dead mother. She painted it black and used highlighters to write funny jokes on them that the guys would entertain her with. The blankets on her bed belonged to Ace when he lived full-time at the house. She stole them off the bed as he moved out. She had to be six or seven then.
Everything in this room feels so sterile in a way. Sure, she has only been living here for a few weeks, but it is like an entirely different world. Is this what a home is supposed to look like or is this Michelle’s fantasy of what it is like to have a daughter just like her?
Michelle returns back to the room with a towel, and I wrap it around my waist. I sink farther into the room, touching the white lace curtain that covers the window and the pastel outfit with the tags on them lying near the bed. Michelle clears her voice as she says, “Maddie picked that outfit out. I was surprised, too, but she said she liked the butterfly on the jacket.”
My blood begins to boil as I think of Michelle taking her shopping, Michelle holding her hand as they crossed the street, Michelle teaching her about this perfect, suburbia life that she could never have without her. I turn around to face her as I say coldly and sarcastically, “Did she, really? How happy you must have been.”
Michelle can sense something is wrong as she defends herself, “It wasn’t that I was happy. I would have bought her something black and leather if that’s what she wanted.”
“What she wanted was to be home with me, but you kept her from me. Didn’t you?”
“Cal – I—" She stutters as my sudden shift takes her totally off guard. After what just happened in that shower, she wasn’t expecting for me to come out swinging. But now I am seeing everything so much clearer. And it’s time to get this dirty laundry aired.
“You what? You thought you could do better than me? You thought you could replace me and make her life some perfect version? You’re not her mom, Michelle! You’re her fucking teacher, and you had no right to take her from me.”
She stands up straighter, finding herself as she yells even louder, “No, I’m not her mom. But you’re a pretty crummy father to let her sit in that basement while her house gets sprayed in bullets and men she grew up with die all around her! What kind of life do you want her to lead, Cal?”
“I want her to be happy, and that’s with me!” I pound my feet as I charge towards her.
She doesn’t back down, doesn’t even move a muscle as she replies, “I want her to be happy, too. I want her to have a dad. I want her to have a dad who isn’t out killing people in his spare time! I want her to have a dad who can take care of her. And if that means taking her away from you while you get your shit together, I’m happy to have done it!”
I back away quickly and sit on the edge of the bed.
“You grew up like this, Cal. You know what life in a motorcycle gang clubhouse is like. Do you really want that life for Maddie – one where she never knows her father and strange women raise her? Or do you want something better for her?”
“I want her to be with me!” I roar. “I had a fine childhood, Michelle. It wasn’t perfect with school or full lunchboxes, but I turned out fine.”
“But that was you! Maddie is strong, but she’s sweet, and she feels things much more than you know. She’s putting up walls that she can’t break down when she’s around your clubhouse all the time.”
“What the fuck do you know about it, Michelle? You don’t know me, and you don’t know my motherfucking daughter! You come in here and make me fall for you. You show Maddie all these things you think are better, and you make us both forget that we’re not made for this kind of life. And that’s sick. That’s damn sick.”
When I finish my rant, I am out of breath and completely exhausted. Every bit of anger and resentment that I have felt is oozing out of me as I spit my venom. And Michelle just takes it, listening to every word. She knows what she has done is wrong, but yet she stands there more resolved than ever.
Her voice lowers as she says, “I didn’t make you fall for me, and I didn’t show Maddie things that are too good for her.”