Charlie

The night was gone too soon, and morning came on its heels. The only real solace was that it was Sunday, and I’d be shirking work again.

Monday was going to suck for too many reasons to count.

Katie was off that day, leaving Hannah and me to fend for ourselves. And it was glorious.

Parenting with Hannah was fun.

It was so strange to realize that it could be fun. I’d never been a part of a unit that functioned like it did with her, and every minute with her had made me more and more confident that I could be a good dad, that I did know what to do, that I could have what I wanted.

I should have known things were going too well long before the knock on the door.

We were all in the entryway getting ready to walk to the Children’s Museum when it happened, just an innocuous rap of knuckles on the front door. I answered with a smile that slipped off my face, turned down by the anchoring of my heart as it sank in my chest.

Mary’s smile didn’t falter, though it didn’t reach her eyes. No, her eyes glinted with some secondary, alternative emotion more real than that false happiness on her face. Her dark hair was down and wavy, her clothes neat and unassuming.

Everything about her was a lie.

“Hi, Charlie.”

I was stuck to the spot, staring at her for a long moment.

“Can I come in?” she asked, half-joking, the punch line—to my own house—left unspoken.

“No.” It was almost a croak, my dry throat was sticky with shock and discomfort.

Her brow quirked. She still smiled. “What do you mean, no? I wanted to catch you when I knew you’d be at home, so we could … talk.”

“No,” I said, stronger this time. “Mary, you can’t—”

“I can’t what?” she shot, the truth in her heart surfacing, the brief niceties out of the way. “I can’t see my children? I can’t come into my own house?”

“For starters, yes.”

“You can’t do that! You can’t dictate that. The keys to this house are in my fucking purse, and those children came out of my body. You can’t tell me I can’t!”

“Actually, I can. Your name’s not on the mortgage, and you abandoned us. You forfeited your rights when you couldn’t be bothered to show up for the custody hearing.”

The color rose in her cheeks, but she schooled her face and tone. “Charlie, listen, I’m sorry. It’s been … hard, confusing. I don’t have an excuse; I realize that. But they’re my kids, and I want to see them. This is my home, and I—”

“This stopped being your home the second you decided to fuck Jack,” I said with a steely coldness that surprised her. “You don’t get to show up here after all this time and change the rules—rules you dictated by your absence. That’s not how this works.”

“Mama?”

It was Maven, her voice small. I turned to look, my heart breaking, opening the door up without meaning to.

Hannah stood in the entry with Maven on her hip and Sammy peeking out from behind her. Hannah’s eyes and face were full of emotion, tight and surprised and sad and protective as she and Mary stared each other down.

“Oh, look, it’s the pretty nanny,” Mary said with dry scorn that set the hairs on my neck on end, hackles up and tingling.

“Leave her alone,” I growled.

She set her gaze back on me, heavy and assessing. “Ah, I see.” She took a step back and shut her face down. “We’re not going to get anywhere today, are we?”

“Not today. Not until you make an effort toward ending this once and for all. You can’t pick and choose what you want to do, and I can’t allow you to see them not without an arrangement through our lawyers.”

Mary nodded once. “I want to be a part of their lives, Charlie. Seeing you at the hospital made me realize what I’d been missing. So, however you want to go about that, I’ll do it.”

My eyes narrowed.

It was too easy, and I wasn’t buying any of it. She’d manipulated everyone she’d ever known, me worst of all, and I trusted nothing she had to say, even when it was the right thing to say.

Especially when it was the right thing to say.

“We’ll see,” I said.

“Yes, we will.”

And she turned and walked down the stairs.

I closed the door with trembling hands, the solid thunk loud in the quiet entryway.

Hannah stood where she’d been, Maven resting in one arm, the other around Sammy’s back, her face still just so full, as if there were a thousand things in her mind.

I couldn’t blame her for a single one.

I raked a hand through my hair.

“Why was Mommy here?” Sammy asked quietly, subdued, from Hannah’s side.

I knelt to his level and tried to find a way to explain. “I don’t know, buddy. I’m going to try to sort it out with her, okay?”

“But she said she wanted to say hi. She said she wanted to see me and Maven.”

The heat of the pain seared my lungs and heart until they ached and smoldered. “I know,” I said, not much over a whisper. “I know, Sammy. And I want you to see her. We’re going to try to figure out how, okay? Because since she left, there are some rules she has to follow, that’s all.”

He nodded and looked down at his shoes. “Okay, Daddy.”

I cupped the back of his head and kissed the top of it, closing my eyes against the sting of it all, wishing there were an easy way out, wishing she hadn’t come at all, wishing she’d just done the right thing and gone through the lawyers instead of coming here, hooking the whole lot of us and dragging us down into the depths with her.

But wishes and dreams, though free, couldn’t be counted on.

I stood and met Hannah’s eyes. “Hannah, I’m so sorry. I can’t … I don’t know why she …”

“You saw her? At the hospital?” she asked.

And I pinpointed the newest emotion on her face—betrayal.

I stepped into her and cupped her elbow. “I did. She was outside the door when I came back from getting coffee. I … I didn’t want to worry you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me, or you didn’t want me to know?” The question wasn’t accusing; it was honest and hurt.

“I would have told you, I swear it.” I searched her eyes, hoping she could read the truth in mine. “That night … Hannah, too much happened all at once. And the more I thought about it, the less important it felt. Nothing of consequence was said; all we did was argue. She wouldn’t even come in to see Maven, not even when she was sick, and I … I …” My voice broke, and I swallowed the sadness, the disappointment, the urgent fear that I’d hurt Hannah.

But her worry slipped away, and she nodded once. “I understand. Just … please tell me what’s going on. I don’t want to be surprised, not by that. Not by her.”

“Of course,” I said and pulled her into a hug, sighing. “I’m sorry.”

“So am I. Are you all right?”

I kissed her hair and pulled away. “Not really. But I will be.”

“Yes, you will.” And her smile made me believe it was true.