“You know?” he says loudly, it sounds strangled, like the words are lodged in his windpipe.
I wait until his wild eyes find mine, and I lay it all out. “I made a lot of mistakes in our relationship over the years. A lot.” I take a deep, shuddering breath before I continue, “I’m so sorry. But when I see you with Kira, I know that my getting pregnant with her wasn’t one of them. No matter who fathered her, you’re her daddy…and she’s your little girl, Seamus. That’s no mistake.”
The sobs wrack his body silently before they find volume, and when they do it’s excruciating to witness. His face drops into his hands and his shoulders rise and fall in the stuttering attack of emotion. When he catches his breath, his eyes find Kira sleeping in the chair near me. “She’s mine. In my heart she’s always been, no question. But she’s legally mine too, I signed adoption papers a few weeks back. Loren took care of all of it.”
If it’s possible for my shattered heart to feel relief, it does. “He never wanted children. I’m glad.” I also know that any chance of reconciliation with Seamus is impossible. His heart and mine just aren’t puzzle pieces that will ever fit together.
They say the truth will set you free.
That’s bullshit.
I feel like I’ve been trampled on.
And Miranda looks like a ghost. Pale. Translucent. Void of life.
I’ve never felt exhaustion like this. I’m emotionally drained. A vessel of bone and tissue, hollow to its core. I let silence grant us both respite for a few minutes before I wipe my wet face off on the front of my shirt. There’s no point in discussing any of this further. It’s all been said. Insults have been hurled. Shit’s been slung. I’m done. “Do you want some coffee?”
She nods. “Please.”
I get us coffee and we drink it in silence.
The kids wake to use the bathroom and go back to sleep.
We get periodic updates on Kai. No change. They assure us that’s a good thing. It doesn’t feel like a good thing when you’re a parent.
Somewhere around five in the morning, Miranda excuses herself to make a phone call.
An hour later she excuses herself again, to the bathroom this time, and I’m left alone with my thoughts. They’re grim.
“Excuse me?”
There’s a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair standing in front of me. Drowning in my grim thoughts, I didn’t see him walk in.
He speaks again when I don’t. “I’m sorry, excuse me. I’m looking for Kai McIntyre’s mother, Miranda. You wouldn’t happen to know her?”
I nod. “She ran to the restroom. She’ll be back any minute.” And then I remember my manners because the shock of the past several hours has stifled everything except basic survival skills, pleasantries have been forgotten, and I offer my hand. “I’m Seamus McIntyre. Kai is my son.”
He pats the side of my forearm with one hand while he shakes with the other. “I’m so sorry to hear about Kai. Miranda said he was out of surgery, but in ICU, when I talked to her on the phone.”
I nod as our hands part.
“I’m Benito Aragon. I work with Miranda at Good Samaritan House.” He points with his thumb down the hall. “Is the restroom this direction?”
I nod again.
“I’ll just go and look for her. It was nice to meet you, Seamus. My prayers are with Kai.”
“Thank you.” I watch him walk away, not because I’m interested but because it’s something to do to keep my mind off what’s happening with Kai. When he’s out of sight, my face drops into my hands. I’m bent over thinking. Thinking that the darkness behind my hands is preferable to the overhead florescent lighting. Thinking about the pain in my head, it feels like my skull is being squeezed in a vise. Thinking about—a hand on my shoulder interrupts the thought. I know that touch. “Please tell me you’re real?” I beg from behind my hands. I’m talking in a voice that I usually reserve for internal dialogue, it’s questioning, but pessimistic. “I need you to be real. Please.”
“I’m real,” she whispers in my ear.
When I raise my head and remove my hands, she’s kneeling on the dingy tan linoleum in front of me with tears glistening in her eyes. I never thought I would see her again. She’s even more beautiful than I remember. She doesn’t say anything and neither do I. I pull her in for a hug without asking. It’s a hug that dissolves everything for a few minutes. “I’ve missed you, Faith. I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you, too, Seamus.” Her voice cracks on my name. “How’s Kai?”
“He’s in ICU. They won’t let me in to see him.” I sniff. “How did you know?”
When I pull back from the hug, she swipes her hands under her eyes. “Miranda asked Benito to find me. He drove me here.”
I try to smile. “I knew I liked Benito.”
She laughs through her tears. “Yeah, he’s a good guy. We picked up Hope from Miranda’s house too. She wanted to see you all and check on Kai.”