“Oh. I think I understand,” my dad finally admitted, finding my hand with his. “I know it’s difficult. I don’t know the whole story, and in the end, this is your decision to make. Try not to let what’s going on in their personal lives affect your decision. You can still back out, you know.”
I nodded weakly, and he patted my hand just as the waitress set down two heaping plates on the table.
“I want you to be doing it all for the right reasons, not because you feel pressured. And I’ll support you no matter what you decide.” Dad added his final thought before tucking into his burger.
I just stared at mine, thinking hard.
Was I doing it for the right reasons?
Suddenly I knew one thing full sure: I did not want to have a hand in bringing a child into a damaged, broken family, a family that lacked trust and even the most basic ingredient: love.
With that realisation, a decision started to form in my mind.
16
Devan
The delicate strings that held my life together seemed to be unravelling one by one. I was holding on by the skin of my teeth, struggling for weeks, trying hard to keep it all together.
My marriage was in crisis, slipping from my hands, fading away, and I knew I either had to do something about fixing it before it was too late or regret not trying. I had to give Monique the benefit of doubt. All the hormones and emotions that surrounded the very nature of desperately wanting a baby must’ve been wreaking havoc on her body and mind. She was the most important woman in my life; I had to take the torturous silences, the games, for the sake of our marriage.
But I felt like I was just a pawn in Monique’s life, though, when realistically I should be by her side, the king to her queen. Yet I was pushed out, kept at arm’s length, unloved and unwanted.
All of this and more had been going through my head when Mila called to ask if she could talk to my wife and me after dinner. I saw Monique clutching the silverware, her knuckles white with the tension in them. I could barely get a bite down, the bland meal tasting like sawdust in my throat. I had an inkling of what was to come - Mila had been distant, unable to look my way and barely uttering a word to either of us - she was struggling, too.
We finally finished our dinner and stacked the dishwasher, Monique and I awkwardly stepping around each other, as if any contact would turn us both to stone. A soft knock on the rear door let us know Mila had arrived.
Monique didn’t even look at me as she strode over to the door, letting my stepsister in. They hugged stiffly, and I looked away, feeling confused and drained.
We all sat down at the kitchen table; Mila took a deep breath, and I waited for the whole world to come crashing around our heads.
She glanced at me for a second, her eyes full of guilt, and I bit my tongue while my heart raced, pumping with adrenaline. I think I knew what was going to happen before my stepsister even opened her mouth. It was either one of two things.
Then she spoke up, and the words were out there, in the open. There was no going back.
“I can’t do it,” Mila said, her voice firm as Monique gasped, and her hand flew up to her mouth. I exhaled slowly, controlling my relief that it was the lesser of two evils Mila had decided to reveal.
Instead of trying to comfort my distraught wife, Mila looked straight at me as she spoke up again. “I don’t mean to pry, and I don’t want to cause trouble, but you two aren’t even speaking. I don’t think it’s the right time to bring a child into the world if its parents are going to be at each other’s throats the entire time.”
“What would you know about marriage? You’re just a kid!” Monique spluttered between sobs. The anger was winning against the heartache, I could tell.
Tears were streaming down my wife’s face, and my heart broke for the woman I loved… or at least used to love.
“I don’t think I’m ready, either,” Mila finished in a whisper, her voice finally breaking a little. “I know I have disappointed you both, and I’m sorry… I will get out of your hair as soon as possible. I promise not to be a burden.”
“You…” Monique whispered, and Mila and I both looked at her expectantly. I’d had a feeling this might happen, but Monique seemed truly surprised. Did she really expect to get away with treating Mila like shit, like her very own baby incubator?
“You filthy, dirty, lying slut!” she yelled all of a sudden, getting up from her chair so fast she almost fell over.
Mila and I both rose as well, and we stared at Monique in shock. She had gone into full meltdown mode, her eyes bulging in fury, tears flowing freely down her face as she screeched at Mila like a banshee.