Chapter 17 – Darren
I heard Hope drive up and park near the front door. My heart began to beat wildly. I had no idea how this conversation would go, but I felt like it was one that I needed to have before sitting down with the attorney.
I needed Hope to understand where I was coming from, so I was hoping that her heart would be open to what I had to say. There was a lot at stake here and I knew it. I just hoped that she would see things the way that I did.
I heard her feet shuffling down the hallway.
“I’m in the library,” I called out loudly, positioning my chair to face the door.
She peeked her head around the corner and greeted me cheerfully.
“Hi, Hope. I’m so glad that you could join me.”
“Of course, Mr. King,” she said.
“First things first,” I said, waving her on. “Enough with this Mr. King business. Mr. King was my very elderly, very deceased father. Just call me Darren. I am hoping that you will soon start to see me as a friend.”
“Okay, Darren,” she replied, hesitantly.
“Hope, I want to tell you a little bit about my story. I’m not sure how much your mother would have told you, but even what she knows is limited. I haven’t really shared any of this with anyone.”
“Okay. You can trust me,” said Hope, taking a seat in an armchair next to mine.
She looked eager to hear what I had to say, and she looked as if she wouldn’t reject me because of it. What a relief. For the first time ever, I felt ready to tell my deepest, darkest secret. I was willing to let Hope in and tell her everything, so that she would do me the huge favor of carrying my child.
“I have a child, Hope. A son. I didn’t know about him until I came back from the war. When I returned, his mother— who, I have to admit, and I’m not proud of this fact, was a random one night stand— told me that I was his father. And by that time, he was already a year old. The war had left me so badly disfigured that my own son cried and screamed at the sight of me.”
I had to stop because I could feel myself beginning to get choked up. I turned away and cleared my throat, willing the tears to stay back. This was why I never told anyone this story. I like to think of myself as a fucking strong man, but the memory of one’s own son crying in shock at the sight of his father’s face was enough to make even the strongest man cry.
“It’s okay,” said Hope, putting her hand on my shoulder.
Her hand felt so comforting. I had to hold it together so that I could finish telling her the story. Turning back to face her, I continued.
“My mom is looking after my son now. I have no idea where my son’s mother is. I only know that she brought my son to me and said she couldn’t deal with him any more and it was my turn. She said she had been waiting for me to get home so she could leave. And she did leave. She ran off— I have no idea where she went. My son’s name is Bryant.”
“What a strong name,” said Hope, smiling sweetly.
She had no idea how much she was turning me on, even now, when I was spilling my deepest secret. I loved that she was being so comforting, that she was focusing on the good in the situation— my son— rather than the bad— his mom, and the fact that he didn’t want to have anything to do with me.
“Thank you. I thought that after having this house built and having tons of reconstructive surgery, I would be able to get my life back. I had big plans of raising my son here, giving him a wonderful life, one that would bring us all joy beyond our wildest dreams. But, the doctors, with all of their expertise, weren’t able to fix my scars in the way that I had hoped that they would. Most of my face has healed, but the scars that were left make me look like a monster.”
I turned my face away instinctively before continuing. But she ran her hand down my face and I didn’t pull away.
“Your scars really aren’t that bad,” she said, sounding as if she was convinced of it. “I think you think they look worse than they do. They’re barely even noticeable.”
“I have more, all over my body,” I told her. “I have never shown anyone all my scars, except the doctors. I know that they are hideous and I don’t expect anything but horror from anyone unfortunate enough to see them. So, that’s something you should know before we go through with this, also.”
I turned to glance at Hope, expecting that she would be looking away. To my surprise, she was still looking directly at me and it looked like there was understanding, rather than pity, in her eyes.
“I’m sure they’re also not as bad as you think the ones on your face are. And anyone who makes you feel like you deserve anything less than to be treated with love is the real monster,” she said, putting her hand on mine reassuringly.
“I will be infertile soon. If I’m not already. The doctors have already confirmed it.”
“Wow,” said Hope, sitting back, deep in thought.
“I really want my son back in my life, Hope. And I believe that having a baby by Christmas is going to be just what we need as a Christmas present to bring joy into this house. Then, my son Bryant will be happy to come live with me.”
I leaned forward in my hair, taking both of her hands carefully in my own.
“You are my last chance, Hope. This is my one ticket to happiness, having a baby and bringing my son here to live with me. I am begging you to consider what I am saying and please help me.”
The tears welling up in her eyes let me know that she understood what I was saying.
I only hoped that it also meant that she was willing to help.