chapter 39
cumbersome
After my visit and a few phone conversations with Felicity, I feel like it’s time to formally introduce her to my son. Of course, he’s technically no relation to her, but he’s my world and I want her to know him. Besides, my mom will just be one more person who will love Grey. He barely sees Evelyn anymore, and that’s not due to my lack of effort. I’ve reached out to her a few times, asking her when she’d like to see her grandson. Every time she declines, stating she’s busy or has prior plans. I’m not sure whether I believe her or not. While she is quite popular in her little social circle, she also reeks of bullshit. For whatever reason, she hasn’t had any interest in seeing her grandson since she and dad separated. Maybe it’s because seeing him would mean seeing me. I hope she gets over all this shit, though, because Grey deserves grandparents who love him. However, if she’s going to continue to act this way, maybe she just doesn’t deserve to be in his life. Suddenly, water splashes me in the face and pulls me away from my contemplations.
“Come on, Grey. Let Daddy finish getting you ready, buddy. You’ve played in the water long enough.”
Grey ignores me and giggles as he splashes the water around. He loves his bath time; nothing compares for him. He gets so fucking giddy any time he’s in a tub filled with bubbles, surrounded by the collection of rubber duckies I bought for him. I love seeing him enjoying himself, but sometimes I wish he would calm down for two seconds, so I could actually bathe him. He moves around so quickly and being so slippery it’s practically impossible to wash him. I don’t know how Ronnie manages to do this in under twenty minutes because he’s practically pruning right now, and I haven’t gotten much done.
“Grey, come on, buddy,” I practically plead as I squirt some shampoo in my palm and attempt to wash his hair.
“No!” he exclaims with a giggle, scooting his little butt away from me.
I sit back on my haunches and just look at him in disbelief. Fucking great. His new word is fucking “no.” Of course, he finds my shocked expression absolutely hilarious because he can’t stop giggling in-between clapping his hands together and splashing the water. His laughter quickly turns to hiccups, causing me to laugh, too. Despite everything else, seeing him like this is extremely fucking cute. And this is coming from a man that doesn’t use the word “cute” very often. He’s not going to be little forever, so I might as well enjoy these years while they last.
“What did you say, buddy?” I ask as I reach down to tickle his belly.
“Dada!” I tickle him again and he laughs before shooing me away with his hand. “No!”
“Ronnie!” I call out with a laugh. “You’ve got to come hear Grey’s new word!”
She breezes into the bathroom still clad in her pajamas and smiles at me; her beautiful face is bright and without a tinge of makeup. Fuck, is she beautiful like this. I ogle her for a moment—completely dazed as I usually am when I see her. I close my mouth, so I’m not gaping at her like a fucking fish.
“You’ve got to hear his new word, babe,” I say as I reach down to tickle my son’s belly once more in hopes he’ll decide to say it again.
“No!” he squeals before giving me a bright smile.
“Oh, no.” Ronnie giggles as she joins me on the bathroom floor. Sitting next to the tub, she trails her fingers through the water as she continues, “He’s going to be saying that all of the time now.”
“It’s sort of cute,” I contemplate with a chuckle. Although, I wish his new word could’ve been “yes.”
Thank fuck, I’ve reigned my cursing in around him because how fucking embarrassing would it be for his new word to be “fuck” instead of “no.” I could only imagine the look on people’s faces if they heard my little boy throwing words like “shit” and “fuck” around. He’s not going to be talking like that until he’s a legal adult. Shit, I’m so overprotective already.
“Hurry up, Daddy! We all have to finish getting ready if we’re going to make it to your dad’s place on time. So, clean him up and get him dressed because we still have to shower, Trev.” With that, she smacks me on the ass and stands up. I watch her hips sway as she walks out of the bathroom before returning my attention back to my son.
“I can help you clean up, Ronnie,” I call over my shoulder before she’s gone out of earshot. “You know—to make things go faster.”
“There’s an idea, champ!” I hear her tease as she retreats to the kitchen.
I quickly finish bathing Grey, but I give him a few minutes more to play with his rubber duckies in the bubbles before pulling the plug. Although I can hardly wait to be under a hot stream of water naked with my girl, I don’t have the heart to shorten his playtime. He cries when I pull him out of the water and start to towel dry him. However, he’s back to his mellow self by the time I dressed him in the outfit his mommy laid out. He’s babbling up a storm by the time I get him settled in his baby gym in front of the television. He fusses just a second when I put him in his gym but is easily distracted when I turn on some cartoons. Once he has his eyes glued to the television and he’s bouncing in his little gym—I seek my girl out.
Ronnie’s cleaning up in the kitchen, rinsing off our dishes from last night, completely oblivious to my presence. Unable to pass up the opportunity to hear her scream, I quietly cross the room and pounce on her. I wrap my arms around her midsection and lift her up off the floor backwards. She screams—just like I wanted her to—and drops the hose, causing water to spray all over my kitchen. Laughing, I grab it before it flips in our direction and point it into Ronnie’s face, causing her to shriek.
“Trev! Stop it right now! You’re getting me soaked!”
I look down at her white pajama T-shirt and smirk after I see the way it’s molded to her braless tits. I know we need some alone time when I notice her pebbled, pink nipples through her wet shirt. Unless, of course, she wants me to fuck her on the floor of our kitchen. Before I can take her anywhere, she forces the hose out of my hand just before she presses her lips against mine. I know exactly what she wants when she wiggles her ass against my erection. Unable to help myself, I turn her around so she’s facing me before lowering her body to the ground. I pull her pajama pants down and touch her where she needs my attention most. A soft moan escapes from her lips and she writhes underneath me as I continue to apply pressure before sliding one of my fingers inside of her.
This time, a stronger moan emits from her lips and I quickly cover her mouth. “If we’re going to do this here, you have to be quiet.” She nods, and I grin before pushing my pants down.
We’re a half hour late by the time we arrive at my dad’s apartment. Dad smirks as soon as he sees the sated look on Ronnie’s and my face. I’d feel embarrassed if I weren’t so relaxed. Fuck it, though. My dad obviously knows I’m no virgin. Haven’t been since middle school. Mom’s smiling at his side. This time when I see them standing side by side I realize that they truly are a great looking couple. They look like they’re meant to be together. Honestly, I’ve never seen my dad look so content. I never realized how unhappy he was with Evelyn until now.
“Ronnie, it’s so nice to see you again,” my mom gushes as she comes forward to embrace my girl.
Ronnie seems surprised at first but is more than happy to hug Felicity back. Grey is smiling from his perch in my arms. He starts cooing as he reaches out his arms, wanting to be included in the embrace as well. Ronnie sees our son out of the corner of her eye and smiles at him.
“I think Grey wants a hug, too,” she states, stepping forward to take our little guy from me.
My mom’s face lights up like a Christmas tree as Ronnie passes Grey off to her. This is the first time she’s gotten the chance to hold him. Her eyes quickly fill with tears as soon as he’s settled in her hold. I can practically feel her joy as if it were palpable in the air as she snuggles my son to her chest. He seems just as happy. He gives her a mischievous smirk as he runs his chubby, little hand through her hair before trying to stuff it into his mouth. My mom laughs, pulling her hair away and giving him a small kiss on the forehead.
I step forward and give my son a proud smile, happy with how mellow he’s behaving right now. Whenever he meets strangers his reactions are always unpredictable—so, I’m happy he’s taken to my mom so quickly. “This is your nana, buddy,” I say to him.
Well, she isn’t technically his nana, but she will be playing a prominent role in his life. Just because she isn’t blood doesn’t mean she can’t love him just the same. And my little guy deserves all of the love in the world.
“Hello, Greyson,” she coos as she rocks him.
“No!” he responds with a giggle.
“That’s his third word,” I explain with a laugh.
“What was his first?”
“Da.” I can’t help but grin as I say this.
Mom gives me a warm smile before returning her attention to him. “Well, this is going to be fun, isn’t it? He’ll be telling you ‘no’ all of the time now.” She pauses and watches him for a moment without saying a word. I wonder what she’s thinking. It doesn’t take long for her to answer my silent inquiry. “You were just as happy and giggly when you were his age, Trevor. You were so playful and easy-going. Just like Greyson is.”
I smile, awkwardly, sticking my hands in the front pockets of my jeans. I wish I had some sort of memory of the time I was with my mom. It sucks that I had to leave her at such an early age. Maybe I can ask her for more photos, or maybe she’ll have some videos of us together. I’m sure she must have some of that shit. I know I have a crap load of pictures and videos of Grey on my phone and computer already. I always feel compelled to document every little thing he does because I don’t want to miss a thing. I’m sure my pictures will embarrass the shit out of him one day, but I’ll treasure them. I don’t want to end up regretting not keeping records of his life.
“You guys ready to eat?” Dad inquires as he ushers us out of the foyer.
This place is definitely a major upgrade from the one he rented for a few months while his divorce was being finalized. That one had been almost depressing with its lack of personal touches and dreary paint job. This apartment, on the other hand, looks like a home. There’s so much attention to detail that I’m sure Felicity has helped him decorate. Dad definitely isn’t the type of man to buy accent pillows. Hell, I didn’t even know what the fuck they were until Ronnie bought me a few for my couch to “spruce it up.”
“The place looks great, Dad.”
He smiles in appreciation of my compliment, then gestures for us to sit down in his brand-new leather chairs to “try them out.” As we comply, he goes on to proudly state, “Felicity helped me pick out most of the furniture. I would’ve been completely lost in some of those stores if it weren’t for her.”
Mom blushes at this but can’t seem to take her eyes off him. I have to admit as much as I like them together, it’s sort of fucking strange. All of my life, the only woman I saw him with was Evelyn. So now—seeing him with another woman—I can’t help but feel really weird. I don’t know how to describe it; I just feel like I have an entirely new life. It’s not a bad thing… but it’s just something that I can’t seem to wrap my head around.
“You okay, Trevor?” my dad asks, pulling me from my thoughts.
I give him a curt nod and reply, “I’m cool. Just thinking. You ready to eat?”
Dad smiles, but I can tell he’s trying to figure me out. I’m sure it won’t take long for him to understand what’s on my mind. He’s usually really good about reading me. I don’t want him to take my confusion the wrong way, though. I do love having my parents together. I know they’ve waited such a long time for each other, but it’s still a lot for me to take in. Luckily, he decides to forgo talking about it during the brunch my mom made.
“So, is Evergreen a permanent place for you two?” I casually ask as I sip on my cup of coffee while lightly bouncing Grey on my lap.
“Well, for now,” Dad says as he places his hand comfortably on top of my mom’s and turns his attention to her. “I was thinking that buying a house would be a nice move for us to make in the future. You know, something more permanent.”
“Ronnie and I are going to be looking at houses soon.” The words fly out of my mouth before I can restrain them.
His eyes widen in obvious shock before a giant grin lights up his face. “That’s great, son! Where were you two thinking about moving? Are you going to stay in town?” I hear and see the hopeful note in his voice and smile.
“Well, there’s this house we’re thinking about checking out,” Ronnie chimes in. “It’s nearby. My sister, Eden, lives in the neighborhood so it’ll be perfect for us, I think.”
“Look at you two! Getting married and settling down. I’m so happy for you two kids,” Dad jovially states.
I always thought marrying and settling down would be absolutely fucking terrifying; however, it’s anything but. Maybe it’s just Ronnie. She always seems to find a way to make everything blissful. I’m a lucky son-of-a-bitch to have her.
“We’ll have a party or something when we get our new place. It’s such a big step… I still can’t believe it,” I muse.
“So, you’ll get the house before you two get married?” Dad questions, his tone free of judgment.
“Well, her lease is up in a little over a month. I know we won’t be able to put together a wedding before then,” I reply with a laugh because I’m sure Ronnie wants a big wedding. At least, that’s what I think every chick wants. Isn’t it?
“The wedding will happen when it happens, and I’m sure it’ll be perfect when it does, but all I need is you, Trev. I don’t care about having a big wedding, or anything like that.”
My chest tightens at her words and I reach out to take her hand in mine, bringing it to my lips to kiss the back of it. Man, do I love this girl. I would marry her tomorrow if I could. Just imagining her all dressed in white, walking down the aisle to me to become mine forever… Fuck, just thinking about it is making me feel like a giggly, teenage girl or some shit like that. However, I can’t help it, Ronnie stirs these butterfly-like feelings inside of me. I guess I’ll just have to learn how to deal.
“Well, I want our wedding to be absolutely perfect,” I tell her while I give her hand a little squeeze.
“Well, Ronnie if you need any help with the planning, just let me know. I’d love to be a part of my son’s big day,” my mom says, giving me a warm smile that makes me feel like little kid.
As soon as my mom’s words sink in, my heart sinks, as well. Planning a wedding is going to be fucking hard for Ronnie because I’m sure she wishes her mom was here to be a part of it, too. I know her mom died when she was twelve, but sometimes a major life event like this opens up the old wounds. Thank fuck, my mom will be able to be there for her. Not that she couldn’t do it on her own—hell, she can manage just about anything on her own—but it’s nice to have some help when planning something so major. Especially help from someone who isn’t going to go fucking crazy at the sight of a fucking mall like her sister, Eden, most definitely will.
“I’d really appreciate that, Felicity. God knows how lost I’ll be when it comes to planning something like this. Luckily, we have plenty of time to think about it. I’m sure Trev doesn’t want to get married tomorrow.”
“I’d marry you in a heartbeat, baby.”
She blushes and looks down at her tea, which only makes me smile harder. I love it when my girl gets all shy like this. Lunch flies by as I bring my parents up-to-date on everything that’s going on in my life, as well as the lives of my new family. I’ve never been much of a talker—especially in situations like these considering growing up, Dean did all of the talking for me—but I find that I like sharing with them. It makes me feel like we’re really a family. For once, I don’t feel like a complete outsider. This is the life I never knew I wanted, but now that I’m experiencing it, I realize I’ve never really felt true happiness before.
We leave with the promise of getting together again soon. Before we make it to my truck, my dad jogs out with a folder filled with—what appears to be—stacks of papers and old envelopes. I give him a confused look, silently inquiring after what he’s handing me, as I pass Grey off to Ronnie. But I can tell that he doesn’t want to go into too much detail here.
He hands me the folder and says, “Felicity and I kept some things for you over the years, we thought it might help—help put together some of the missing pieces. Read them when you get home. I’m sure they’ll explain a lot.”
“Sure thing,” I agree as I take a quick peek at the thick stack of papers inside the folder. I’m curious as to what he’s so urgent for me to read. Now, I can’t get home fast enough.
As intrigued as I was to view the papers my dad gave me, now that I’m home I can’t bring myself to do it. I have the folder and its contents laying on my lap, waiting for me to open. I’ve stared at the fucking thing for what feels like hours. I can’t understand why I feel such trepidation every time I’m faced with something new like this. Could this be another puzzle piece of your fucked-up past, Trev? Buckle up. A sardonic smile tugs at my lips at the thought. I suppose I’m just worried because every time I get new information, I know I won’t be able to go back to a time where I was blissfully unaware.
My eyes remain focused on the folder as I slowly lean forward to open it. I take one final, deep breath before I decide it’s finally time to open the damn thing. Letting go of the blissful ignorance that I hang onto like a fucking life preserver.
“Fuck it,” I murmur. Famous last words, right?
I dump the contents of the folder onto the coffee table in front of me, only to find what appears to be crumpled up letters. They date back to the late eighties. There are some cards mixed in, as well. Some of the letters look like they’re creased and worn down by time. As I glance through them, I wonder if the writing will still be legible. I rummage through the envelopes, trying to decipher the dates on each. I find one postmarked July 1991. The ink is smudged a bit and the envelope looks as though it’s been opened and closed countless times. Curiosity finally gets the better of me, and I pull the contents out to look it over.
The letter is so fucking wrinkled I take a moment to smooth it out to the best of my ability before I read it. The ink is smudged beyond belief but, nonetheless, I bring the letter close to my face to try to decipher what it says. Christ, how many times had my dad read this letter?
July 7, 1991
Arthur,
I can’t believe we’re having a son. I can’t stop looking at his ultrasound picture! He’s so beautiful and I love him so much already. If only you were here to see everything. My home has transformed into one filled with baby books, toys, and every baby movie I could find. I just want my pregnancy to be perfect. I want everything to be ready for him when he arrives.
After my miscarriage, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to get pregnant again. So, this little boy is my miracle baby. I still feel paranoid at times, and at night I wish you could be here to comfort me. Vince will be out of the country for the rest of the year and I’m really happy he’s gone. Not only for the sake of our baby, but for my own sake, as well. I think my miscarriage broke something in him. His attitude confuses me, Art. Maybe I just don’t understand the way my husband’s mind works. Sorry, I’m rambling. It’s just that you’re the only person I feel that I can open up to.
You have already done so much more for me than my husband has ever done. You haven’t missed a doctor’s appointment. You listen to me every time I have a concern. You just seem to know when I need your support and give it willingly. You’ve even helped me prepare for our son—even though he’s not coming for another seven months. Your eagerness has always made me laugh. I’m happy to see that you love him just as much as I do.
I’m still pinching myself to make sure I’m not dreaming. In six short months, we’ll have our little boy. I’ll be dreaming of him until the day he comes.
Forever yours,
Felicity
I stare at her words in shock. I didn’t know she’d had a miscarriage. I didn’t know I was her “miracle baby.” A humorless chuckle escapes my lips as I run a shaky hand through my hair. I don’t know much about my mom in general. Who the fuck am I really kidding? I read over the letter again. My heart swells as I realize that—although, I was an obvious accident—both my parents truly did want me. They really loved me—even before I was born. That knowledge means the fucking world to me. Being a bastard child, as well as the product of an affair, I’m so lucky my dad didn’t choose the easy way out by brushing my existence under the rug like so many other men do with their dirty laundry.
I set the letter down and pick up the small ultrasound picture that was enclosed with it. It’s dark and fucking blurry as hell—but I can make out the blob looking shape that must be me. I look like a fucking alien! The image is well worn, especially around the corners where it looks to have been held many times. I wonder if my mom would hold and stare at this picture when I was no longer with her. The thought of her doing so breaks my fucking heart. My mom and dad were both adults—so they understood what they were getting into—nonetheless, that doesn’t mean their situation wasn’t a long and fucking painful road.
Placing the ultrasound picture back on the coffee table in front of me, I dig through the pile for another letter. I come across a fat envelope that captures my attention. It doesn’t have any markings on it besides the date: January 21, 1992. Opening it up I find a large stack of pictures. The first few are of my mom, lying on a hospital bed looking worn out, but still lovely as ever. There’s something in her eyes, a sadness perhaps, or a feeling I just can’t describe. I trace her face with my finger, before moving onto the next picture. My breath catches in my throat and my hand can barely keep steady as I bring the picture closer to my face for a better look. It’s a photo of us. I’m so fucking little and I’m crying, curled up against my mom’s chest. She’s absolutely glowing. She has her cheek pressed against my bald, little head. My body feels heavy all of a sudden, and my eyes burn with tears as I move to the next picture. This time, I’m dressed in a blue onesie with a matching beanie on my head. I can’t help but lightly laugh at how ridiculous I look. And mom is holding me, smiling proudly for the camera. Seeing these pictures is a complete shock to my senses. I’m getting a glimpse of my life with a mom that I hadn’t known about until recently. It’s not like I would’ve remembered this shit anyway. However, it’s still nice to finally see some moments I shared with her.
The next picture shocks the fuck out of me. It’s my dad holding me in the hospital. I had no idea he came to see me when I was born. I wonder how he managed to swing that! He looks as if he’s just gotten off from work. He’s still dressed in his suit with his tie loosened around his neck. He’s holding me close to his chest and all of his attention is on me. He looks so fucking happy. He must’ve really loved me—despite the shitty fucking circumstances. There are a few more pictures of him holding me and they tug on my heart in a way I don’t really want to admit. It’s just so incredibly touching. I wish I had a photo of me with Grey when he was born. I could’ve had one if I had my act together back then. I’d been too strung out and broke to come see him and I fucking regret it every second. Self-medicating had caused me to miss out on so much.
Pushing those unpleasant thoughts aside, I slide the photos back into the envelope and move onto another. I select one from February 1992 and open it. There’s another picture in this one. This time, it’s Mom and me at her home. I wonder who took it. She’s wearing a dress and holding me in her arms. We’re sitting in a rocking chair by a window. I’m still super little, and my face is half hidden because I’m nestled against her chest—but I can still see that my eyes are closed and I’m smiling. I grin as I set the photo carefully on the table and pull out the letter that accompanied it.
Arthur,
He’s getting so big already! My perfect little boy. He rarely cries, and he smiles all of the time. I don’t know what I did to deserve a baby like him. He’s such an easy-going little guy, with such a good nature about him. I just want to spend every single second with him. He’s perfect. I’m afraid that if I close my eyes for a nanosecond I’ll miss something really important. Like a new smile, a new expression, or a new movement of his little body. I want to be there to witness everything.
Thank you for dropping by when you can. Trevor loves it when you’re here, but I understand you can’t be here all of the time. This is the last thing I wanted for us. I hate the thought of living a double life, but here we are. I regret so much, Art. I regret moving on because I was insecure and easily persuaded. I regret not divorcing my husband as soon as you returned the very first time. I regret breaking your heart, which you had given to me so completely. I know I should regret our affair, but I don’t. Not one second of it. I will cherish the short time we had together for the rest of my life. We have our son because of it. Trevor means the absolute world to me and I love him more than words could ever describe. Thank you for being his father.
I hope to see you soon.
Forever yours,
Felicity
I must’ve been quite the fucking burden for my dad—despite how much he loved me. He had a family with someone else, and I was just his bastard son. I can’t imagine the fucking mess I caused. I can tell they don’t regret their affair or the consequences they had to face because of it, but there must’ve been some guilt there. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to play house with one family before going home to another. It’s so disingenuous. They must’ve known their charade would come crashing down eventually.
I move onto the next letter. It’s dated October 1992, and it’s worn down to the point where the writing is barely legible. It doesn’t help that the handwriting looks frantic, as if the words had been practically scribbled quickly across the page. It’s my mom’s handwriting, I can recognize that much. I can only make out a few sentences; I can’t decipher the letter as a whole.
He’s coming home soon. What should I do? I can’t keep this secret for much longer.
While I can’t make out the specifics, I know she must be talking about Vince returning home. Based off her handwriting, her husband must’ve frightened her more than I imagined. That fucker! I’d kill him with my bare hands if I had the chance. The way he died was gruesome, but not fitting for the crimes he committed against her. As soon as my angry haze fades away, I continue with my attempt at reading her words.
He’ll know I’m lying… can’t afford to go… maybe he’s changed... need to protect my baby…
The ink is so smudged and the paper is so worn down due to water damage and exposure, I can’t make out much more. I frown at the paper before giving it another shot. The only other sentence I manage to make out is the last one. As soon as I read it, a chill runs down my spine.
Promise me, Arthur. Promise!
There’s a heaviness in her words and the distress is clear by her handwriting. Her handwriting in her other letters had been so elegant and precise—even when she was rambling. This letter, however, is a different matter entirely. I can practically feel the horror she’s feeling jumping off this flimsy piece of paper as I look at it. This letter is so incredibly haunting. Unable to stomach it for a moment longer—I move onto the next one.
When I sift through the stack to find which letter came next, I come up fucking short. That frantic letter was the last one she sent while I was still with her. That must’ve been written right before her husband came back from overseas. She had ten happy months with me before her life upended. She must’ve begged my dad to take me—or so the letter would suggest. I wonder if she knew something problematic was going to happen. Although, if she had such a bad feeling about it, why didn’t she just run away with me?
I can probably surmise an answer to my own fucking question. Fuck, when I lived in Cali for a while I stayed with my fair share of random fucking strangers. Not all of them were decent human beings, let's just put it that way. One night in particular, I stayed over at a friend of a friend's house. I crashed on his couch because I had been too fucking drunk to drive my sorry ass home. Wherever “home” was at the time. He and his girlfriend—who’s at least a foot shorter than he is—got into a huge argument in the kitchen. I was way too fucking drunk to recall what they were fighting about, but I'm sure it was just some petty shit. That's all it takes with guys like that, one insignificant little slip up, and they're fucking wailing on you. He ended up beating his girl pretty badly. I tried to call the police, but he immediately stopped me. With drugs all over the house, we weren't in the position to be inviting cops over—although, in hindsight, I should’ve fucking called anyway. The biggest shock to me was the fact that his girl didn't want to press charges. She was so certain he would “get better” and she would make every excuse for him in the fucking book.
I don’t want to think of that behavior as being weak because it’s like their abusers’ brainwash them or some shit like that. They start off sweet, giving their girl everything she could ever want; then, once they get comfortable in the relationship, the abuse begins. They cut the person off from their friends and family; the piece of shit will monitor what the “loved one” does twenty-four-fucking-seven, and ultimately convince them that it’s all for her own good. They’ll claim they love them so much and the fear of losing them is why they acts so insane. I’m sure this Vince guy was a shithead, too. And I’m sure he did that shit to my mother. Just like that guy I vaguely knew in Cali did to his girl. They get their claws in you, and by the time you want to leave… it’s too late. I wonder if my mom ever saw leaving him as an option. I don’t know if she was too brainwashed to leave, too scared, or what the deal was. All I know is, I can’t judge her decisions too harshly since I don’t fully know what the situation was. Besides, I constantly forgave Evelyn for her fucking terrorizing ways because I’d always hoped that she’d change. However, it seems people like that never do.
Moving on, I pick up a new envelope that’s addressed to, whom I assume are, my mom’s parents. My grandparents… how fucking weird is that? As I open the letter, a few wallet-sized photos come tumbling out. They’re baby pictures of me. I look so small in the photos, but I have a huge smile on my face. I look like one of those babies you would see on the cans of baby food. I can hardly fucking recognize myself at all. I’m definitely not cute like that anymore. The photo is dated August 1993, so that means I had been in my dad’s care for a while. I remember Evelyn telling me he took time off work to care for me. I wonder what I looked like when he first took me in.
Felicity,
These pictures are the best I can do. Trevor is thriving here. He’s happy being around Dean. They’ve become practically inseparable since he’s arrived. Dean had been wishing for a brother, so he just believes his wish was finally granted and Trevor came just for him. They love each other so much already.
Honey, I just wish you could be here. I don’t want to tell you how much Trevor misses you because I can’t bear the thought of you being upset. I just don’t know what to say. I’ll do the very best I can. I’ll give him the best life possible. You agreed to Evelyn’s stipulations to stay out of his life, but I don’t want you to miss anything. I’ll send you pictures of him whenever I can. God, Felicity. I just wish everything could be different.
Yours forever,
Art
I couldn’t imagine how tough it must’ve been for my mom. To say goodbye to me without knowing when, or if, she’d ever see me again. She thought she was doing the right thing, and she loved me enough to let me go. If she hadn’t given me up, I wonder if I would’ve survived. It’s easy to criticize her decisions in hindsight, but at that moment in time she was making what felt like was the best the decision for me. I would’ve done the same for Grey if I had to. As much as it would’ve fucking destroyed me, I would’ve done it because I love him so much more than I love myself.
As I continue to open one envelope after the next, I find that each has photos of me along with updates on my progress. Dad had sent her every one of my school pictures throughout the years with long letters describing how proud he was of me. It’s uncomfortable to read his words because, at the time, I hadn’t been proud of myself. Fuck, I hated myself completely up until recently.
There’s more than just letters sent back and forth to each other; there are various cards sent from my mom to my dad’s office, as well. I’m sure this was so Evelyn would remain completely fucking unaware. She never missed a birthday—and that thought crushes me more than I imagined it would. I can see her now, sitting at a desk with a pen in hand, all alone as she writes to her son which she hasn’t seen since he was a baby. I can’t imagine the pain that she must’ve endured. Fuck, just looking at all of this shit is difficult for me. I never understood the extent of what a fucking mess my family once was.
With a heavy heart, I open one birthday card after another. The first one is so fucking sad. She was two months shy of spending my first birthday with me when she gave me away. Just looking at her scribbled handwriting across the card makes my stomach fucking twist until I think I’m going to vomit. I vigorously rub my face in an effort to loosen up the muscles in my jaw, which are tense from suppressing my emotions. I take a deep breath, and begin to read, coming across a quote from a Winnie-the-Pooh storybook I read to Grey constantly. I guess my mom used to read it to me, too.
To my special little boy on his birthday,
I can’t believe you’ve been on this Earth for an entire year! You are so very special to me, Trevor. It felt like just yesterday I was holding you in my arms. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Although I’m not with you now, know that you’re in my heart, always.
I wish I were there to read to you on your special day. I’ve been reading our favorite stories every night and I came across a quote I wanted to share with you. I’ll enclose it for you. It’s from one of your favorite’s. I know we’ve read it so many times, but now, it’s more relevant than ever. We may be apart now, son—but I’ll always be with you...
Happy first birthday, son. I love you more than words. I know we’re separated now, but I’ll always be your mother. I’ll always see your face in my mind and feel your spirit everywhere I go. And I promise that you’ll be in my heart, forever.
Mommy loves you, Trevor.
I reach up to rub my jaw because my muscles are now feeling as hard as a fucking rock. My skin is wet, and I realize I’ve been fucking crying. I’m still crying. The tears keep coming and I close my eyes, allowing myself the freedom to let my emotions escape. There are no words to describe the feelings which are coursing through me. I can feel her love, her pain, and the loss she felt when she gave me up. I can relate to every single feeling because I lost her, too. I lost a mom who loved me for so many years because the circumstances that surrounded our lives were complete shit. I can’t say I wish things were different, only because if they were, my present life would be very different, as well. However, I do wish I could carry her pain for a while, just so she could be happy and free of all this baggage which haunts her. Even if only for a moment.
I wipe the tears from my cheeks and finish reading my birthday cards. They’re all similar, and while they’re uplifting and encouraging, they’re so fucking melancholy at the same time. She’s kept me in her thoughts for all of these years. I regret not being able to do the same. Of course, I hadn’t known about her, but if I had, I’d make sure we had some sort of relationship; even if it was strained.
There’s one last letter my dad saved. He sent my mom pictures of me graduating from elementary school. In the picture, I have a huge, toothy grin on my face as I held up my “diploma.” My mom wrote back, expressing how proud she was of me. I can’t help but wonder if she had known me growing up, if she still would’ve felt proud.
He’s wonderful, Arthur! He gets more and more handsome each year. I love him so much. Take care of our son. He’s the only piece of us we have. Can you believe this handsome, intelligent, and mature little boy is ours? He seems too good to be true. Give him an extra kiss for me, and an extra “I love you.” I love him more than I can begin to describe. Keep him safe and happy for me. Keep giving him the life that I couldn’t.
I let her letter fall to the floor in front of me. I lean over at my waist and bury my head in my hands. My son’s cries soon stir me from my contemplations. I take a deep breath, wipe the tears off of my face, and get up to check on him. I walk past my bedroom and see Ronnie bookmarking a page in her worn paperback before getting up, as well. I want to give her a break from taking care of Grey, and I also want some alone time with my son. He always helps me unwind, and after all that emotional shit, I definitely need it.
“It’s okay, babe,” I say, stopping her in her tracks. “I’ve got him.”
She gives me a small smile, her green eyes filled with concern, but she doesn’t say anything. I hug her tightly to me and kiss her temple, wanting her to know that I’m all right and there’s nothing she has to worry about. Her body relaxes against mine and she nuzzles her face against my chest before going back to her romance novel and letting me attend to my son.
Grey’s face is red and his arms and legs are swinging and kicking wildly about as he sobs. I scoop him up out of his crib and hold him against my chest, kissing his face until his cries become softer. I take him to the living room and sit with him in the rocking chair I have situated in the corner of the room. He’s calmer, and I am as well now that I’m holding him. I hadn’t realized how fucking tense I’d been until now that I have him wrapped safely in my arms.
“Daddy’s here. Everything’s all right.”
His eyes widen as he looks up at me. It seems that the baritone of my voice soothes him.
“It’s all right, Grey. I’m here, and everything’s fine.”
He blinks his eyes a few times before giving me a watery smile.
“Aw, buddy. Everything’s all right.”
He smiles wider, hiccups, and says, “Dada! Da, da, da!”
“I love you, buddy.”
He smiles and moves his mouth as if he were trying to form the words. Random sounds come out of his little mouth. It’s as though he was trying to say “I love you” to the best of his ability.
“I love you, son,” I tell him again.
He grins as he watches my mouth move and tries to tell me again that he loves me, too. I run my hand through his hair and watch him try to form the words before he finally gives up and says, “Dada.” Then he grabs my finger and pulls it toward his mouth.
“I love you, too, buddy.”