Sick and tired of feeling the ugliness
present
“Sorry, Daddy.” Wakefulness is instigated by these words coupled with a little girl’s socked foot stepping on my cheek.
I open my eyes to a fuzzy image of Kira’s sweet face inches from mine. “Are you okay, Daddy?”
I smile at the concern in her wrinkled forehead and drawn eyebrows. “I’m okay, darlin’.”
She wraps her arms around my neck and squeezes. “You shouldn’t sleep on the floor in the hall.”
I wrap my arms around her, and my body seconds her words. “I know, I shouldn’t.” I’m too old to sleep on the floor, and my body aches.
“It’s dangerous.” And then she releases me. “I gotta pee. I’ll be back. We can watch cartoons.”
“Sounds like a plan.” And just like that, everything’s back to the way it used to be. To the way it should be.
Until I put the blanket and pillow back in my room and walk to the kitchen.
And Miranda is sitting at the table drinking a Starbucks coffee, eating a bagel, and reading a newspaper. Like she belongs here. She’s wearing different clothes than she was last night and she looks wide awake. Sleep was always something she could do without; she thrived on four or five hours a night. I always envied that. “What are you doing here?” I feel like I need to walk back out into the hall and walk back in and hope this is all an illusion.
She takes a bite of her bagel and talks tightlipped through it, pointing to the counter behind me. “Breakfast.”
There’s an Einstein Brothers Bagel box with enough food in it to feed an army, three tubs of flavored cream cheese, six bottles of fruit juice, and a large Starbucks cup. I can’t remember her ever buying food for anyone but herself. As I pour the contents of the lukewarm Starbucks cup into a mug from the cupboard and walk it to the microwave, I say, “I thought I told you to leave last night.”
She shrugs as she swallows another bite. “I fell asleep. Then I left. Then I came back. With food. Your food selection is pathetic.”
Punching buttons on the microwave, I defend, “Oatmeal is good for lowering cholesterol.”
“I hate oatmeal. It tastes like wet sawdust.”
I know she doesn’t like oatmeal. I know she thinks it tastes like wet sawdust. And I don’t care. I shake my head. “Why are we talking about oatmeal, Miranda? What are you doing here?” I ask again.
She’s picking at her bagel. Stalling.
“Daddy, what’s for—? Mommy, what are you doing here?” Kira asks. She looks confused.
I jump in before confusion takes over, and Miranda says something to make this worse. I want the answer to that question. Kira doesn’t need to be encumbered with it. “Bagels, darlin’. Pick one out and we’ll put some cream cheese on it, and eat in the living room while we watch cartoons.”
She does as I ask and we take our breakfast to the living room to sit in front of the TV and go through our early Saturday morning ritual that I’ve missed so much.
Fifteen or twenty minutes into “Adventure Time” Miranda joins us. She walks in quietly, which is unlike her, usually she’s showy and has to be the center of attention. She sits on the floor cross-legged. Kira tracks her but doesn’t say anything, and when Miranda settles, she rests her cheek back against my arm and loses herself in Finn and Jake on the screen.
All’s quiet, uncomfortably so, but still quiet until Kai and Rory join us. They’re both eating bagels, and Rory has cream cheese smeared on his lips and cheeks in the shape of a smile, the residue left after the huge bite he’s just taken. “What are you doing here?” the boys ask together. I almost laugh, because we’ve all asked her, verbatim, that same question now within the span of an hour.
We’re all staring at Miranda waiting for an answer. Her cheeks are reddening and her eyes look glassy when she whispers, “Breakfast,” and then stands and walks to the bathroom.
Rory shrugs, unconcerned, and continues to devour his bagel as he sits next to Kira on the couch.
Kai, on the other hand, looks saddened when he sits down next to me. I put my arm around him, and he rests his head against my shoulder while he finishes his bagel.
Miranda returns five minutes later. Her eyes are red.
“Thanks for the bagel, Mom.”
Kai just schooled me.
On compassion.
And forgiveness.
I’m not ready for forgiveness; the wounds are too fresh. For all I know forgiveness may never come. But compassion is something we should all be willing to show. Treating people badly in reaction to how they treat us plays into the ugliness in the world and perpetuates it. Treating people well, not in the hopes that they’ll change, because sometimes people never change, keeps our hearts and minds free from the ugliness. I’m so fucking sick and tired of feeling the ugliness.
Sometimes it takes the purity of a child to remind us what’s important.
Miranda sniffs and answers, “You’re welcome, Kai.”
So, I vow, at least for now, to deal with Miranda with caution instead of hatred. I don’t have to like her to do that.
“Miranda, can you help me take the trash out?” I need to talk to her and find out why she’s here and, most importantly, where my kids fall into her plans, because on paper, she still has full custody.
I grab the bag out of the kitchen trashcan—it’s only half full—and walk outside. She follows me down the stairs. At the big dumpster at the back of the building, I ask again, “What are you doing here?”
She finally answers. Sort of. “In California? Or here at your place?”
I lift the lid on the dumpster and toss the trash bag in. “Both.”
“In California? Looking for a job and trying to find a house. And here? Hoping I can stay until I find both of those.” She doesn’t even blink when she runs through her list. She doesn’t sound confident. She’s unsure, not at all hopeful, pessimistic. She says it like she may as well because she doesn’t have anything to lose.
I’m dumbfounded by almost every answer. I can understand the looking for a place to live part, but the rest makes no sense. “You don’t have a job? Why can’t you transfer back to the Marshall Industries office here?”
She raises her eyebrows, and there’s no pride in her answer. “Because I was fired months ago.” And before I can say anything she adds, “I lied. Blackmailed Loren. He didn’t trust me with his business after that.”
I close my eyes and shake my head. She’s like bad reality TV. “Was this before or after you married?”
“Before.”
I know I’m looking at her like I don’t understand what she’s saying because I’m having trouble wrapping my head around it. “And he still married you?”
She nods and then stops and tilts her head almost like she’s going to change her mind and shake it side to side. “Yes. And no. I thought we were married. We never were, the license and certificate were fakes.”
“Jesus Christ, you two were perfect for each other.” I probably shouldn’t have said that, but it’s true. It’s so goddamn true.
“We were a fucking disaster.” She shrugs because there’s nothing more to say on the subject I’m sure. Fucking disaster sums it up.
I don’t want to talk about her dismal love life. “I want my kids here. Winter break ends, and school starts up again Monday. I’ll go in late to work and re-enroll them.”
“I can do it,” she offers.
“Really?” I sound doubtful and mocking.
She sighs and a little bit of the old defiant Miranda peeks through because that comment pissed her off. “I ran a goddamn Fortune 500 company, Seamus, give me some credit. I can fill out a few mundane forms.”
“Are you trying, Miranda? Is this you trying to be a parent? I want so fucking badly to believe you’re being real with me and that you’ve finally come to the realization that you have the most amazing children on the planet, and that it’s a privilege to be their mom.” I know I’m begging, but I want this for my kids. I want them to have a mom who loves them. I don’t care if she’s in my life, but I want her to be in theirs if she’s going to try.
“I’m trying, Seamus. I’m not perfect, and I don’t know how to do this, but I’m trying.”
“I’m only going to say this once, Miranda. Go all in or go away. This isn’t something you try and then get bored with like yoga and give it up. These are children who’ve been waiting their whole lives for a mom. Think about them. For once. You’re a mother, not a martyr.”
“I’m all in,” she says.
I hesitate because our past is screaming at me, Don’t believe her! She’s a liar! But then I remember Kai…and compassion…and shit, before I can talk myself out of it my mouth is sounding offers, “You can stay here for a month while you look for a job and a place to live. You’re sleeping on the couch, no one’s giving up a bed for you. If you don’t find anything in four weeks, you’re out. You can go stay in a hotel or sleep on the corner, I don’t care. My kids stay here during the week to go to school. We can discuss joint custody on the weekends. I’ll have my lawyer outline the new arrangement. And you’re paying the lawyer fees to straighten it all out because you fucked it up. And every goddamn day you better make an effort to be part of their lives. Do you hear me? Real, no pretending. You wake up and take them to school, and I’ll pick them up. You help them with homework a few nights a week. You play with them. You talk to them. And you can make dinner a few nights a week too.”
“Can I order takeout? I don’t cook.”
Nothing’s ever easy with her. I shake my head. “I don’t fucking care. Put some goddamn food on the table. This is about responsibility. You’re not going to be judged on your cooking abilities.”
She nods her head.
I feel like I’m talking to a child instead of an adult. “Can you do that?”
“Yes, I can do that,” she answers.
I reword for clarification. “Do you want to do that?”
She nods.
Shit.
I can’t believe I just agreed to this.
I hope she can.