“And?” Jude whispers.
“And I packed up everything of Max’s, his birth certificate, his clothes. I still had most of Faith’s things as well. She never bothered taking them with her when she ran off. What junkie thinks of needing a birth certificate?” My mouth is dry, scraping over the words, as I wonder if absolution comes at the end of this tale. “I packed it all up and left. I took a ferry, and then I got on a bus, and I just kept going until I reached the water. I saw the sign for the World’s End, and I thought it was God trying to tell me something. Nana wasn’t far away, and who was going to come looking for me here?”
“Did Faith ever come back?” he asks.
“No.”
Jude’s hands slide back to the edge of the table and grip it until his knuckles are white.
“Hearing she sent you that postcard is the first indication I’ve ever had that she knew where I’d gone,” I tell him.
“She must have known that Max was better off with you,” he says.
A hot tear pools at the edge of my eye. I blink and it spills onto my cheek. “Do you really believe that?”
“I know that, Sunshine.” His grip on the table loosens. “But why did she send me that postcard?”
“When she came back and she saw Max, she seemed to know who his father was.” I tell him, my voice going distant. I fade back to that scene in my apartment, watching her as she studied her son with recognition plastered on her face.
“Why did she send me that postcard?” he repeats, seeking an answer he already knows. It’s in his voice now.
“I think she sent it because you’re his father.” I’m not even certain my words are more than a breath, but Jude’s eyes close.
“Do you have any proof?”
“No.” It sounds silly to claim that they have the same eyes.
His throat slides on this. He’s doing what he can to keep his emotions in check, but our feelings are getting the better of both of us. “When is Max’s birthday?”
“June 2nd,” I tell him. “He’ll be five this year.” It’s less than a month away. My stomach cramps nervously, knowing this might be the last birthday I spend with him.
Jude remains silent, but I can see the gears turning as he counts back the days, months, and years. “The last time I saw her was October,” he tells me.
It lines up.
“You can have a paternity test,” I offer him, “but I’m certain he’s yours.”
There’s no other reason she would have sent him that postcard. In her own twisted way, Faith was trying to give Max what she could not.
“I’m not certain what I’m supposed to say to you,” he says. “Do you want something from me now? Why are you telling me now?”
The fragile band holding my heart together snaps. “I don’t want anything. I just wanted you to know.”
“How long have you known?” His voice pitches up a level as he struggles to keep himself calm.
“I figured it out the last time I saw you. I could tell you that there were clues or that we both must have been stupid not to see, but really, I just looked in his eyes and I saw you there.”
Silence descends over us. I can’t even hear myself breathe. It’s the supernatural hush that overpowers the world before lightning splits the sky, but there’s nowhere to take cover. No solid ground is safe. I have to face this storm.
Jude rubs the back of his neck with the heel of his hand absent-mindedly.
“You know I love him,” he tells me.
I freeze. I know where these words are taking us.
“I want to be part of his life,” he continues.
I don’t have the heart to ask where I fit into this picture.
“You have to say something,” he says at last. “He’s yours,” I tell him. “It doesn’t really matter what I say. You can take him away from me. You can take him to Los Angeles.”
The truth tastes bitter on my tongue.
“I’m not going to do that to him.”
“Why?” I explode. “I’m not his mother. I’ve been confronting that reality since that night. I spent the last few weeks learning how to call myself by my own name, and the one thing that’s taught me is that my world is made of lies.”
“You are not a lie to him,” Jude interrupts in a gentle voice. “I’m not going to take him from you, but you’re going to have to figure out how to forgive me because I’m going to be part of his life and…”
He trails away, leaving the rest of his sentence lingering in the air, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking. Does he want to be part of my life too?
I grab my menu and hide behind it as the tears begin to freely fall. The waitress takes this as a sign that she can finally approach our table. There must be nothing more awkward than hovering in the background while two people are fighting, except not realizing when one of them is in tears.