“Of course, I do! She’s my family…” I swallowed hard, trying to keep my shit together. I was desperate to know what was going on, but I knew I had to play it cool if I was ever going to find out what they were hiding.
The sound of a chair being pushed backwards interrupted my panicked thoughts, and I looked up to see my stepfather leaving the room, his meal left unfinished. He walked out without giving me a second glance and my mother and I were left to sit in awkward silence.
“Mom?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry Devan, I can’t–”
“You can’t what?”
“Never mind,” she said and sighed.
Finally, I’d had enough. I got up myself and threw my napkin from my lap onto the table and I followed in my stepfather’s footsteps. Just as I was leaving the room I heard my mother heave another heavy sigh, and I knew I was on to something important.
I found my stepfather outside, spotting him in front of the fire pit from the kitchen window. He was busy setting up the fire, but I could see from the way his shoulders tensed up that he sensed my approach as I came closer.
Without saying a word, I knelt down next to him and helped him prepare the fire. We worked in silence, not even exchanging a silent glance. When we were done, we took a few steps back and admired the fire that started to crackle in its pit.
“Do you want a beer, son?” he asked me, interrupting the companionable silence that had been our only company for the past ten minutes.
“No thanks,” I replied, and we walked over to the patio where there were two chilled bottles waiting on the table. I assumed my mom had brought them over, and though I wasn’t about to ruin over eight-months of sobriety, a small smile played on my lips. I guessed she knew an important conversation was about to take place.
Eddie drank in silence for a while as I waited for him to begin, but the suspense was killing me. I needed to know what was going on, finally needed some closure after the long and torturous year I’d had.
“You know where she is, don’t you?” I asked, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible as my stepfather looked down guiltily.
“I do,” he finally admitted. “Mila is two states over. She has a new job. She got promoted about a year ago, but I think you already knew that from Suzanne.”
“Yes, but why wouldn’t she tell me? Why has she cut almost everyone out of her life? It makes no sense,” I said, the desperation in my voice obvious. I was at the point where I didn’t even care if he knew of my true feelings - I just needed to find her.
“That is Mila’s business, not mine,” he said sternly, giving me a hard look. “Look, son - I don’t know what happened between the three of you, but my daughter needed to get away. You should respect her decision.”
“I do, but what if that decision is wrong?” I asked quietly and my stepfather gave me a pondering look. For a moment I thought he would scold me, but he surprised me by raising his beer in a toast.
“Then, Devan,” he said solemnly, “you have to go there and ask her yourself… Make her see that she was wrong. You have to fight, this time around.”
I was genuinely surprised at his comments.
He was right, and I scolded myself for not fighting for her sooner. I’d mistakenly thought she’d needed space, a breather away from me. That perhaps she didn’t feel the same way. But regardless, if I were to have any hope of moving on, I had to go see her and tell her all that lay in my heart.
25
Mila
Two weeks prior
My Dad marched straight into the house, passing me as if I were a ragdoll. I objected loudly but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and Suzanne and I could only follow him as he ventured upstairs.
He walked straight to the source of the wailing sound and stopped in complete shock when he reached the nursery. His hand clutched the doorframe, and for the first time, I noticed my dad had gotten older.
His hands were wrinkled and full of age spots, his motions a little less sure than they used to be. But none of that mattered, because I saw the biggest smile light up his face as he saw what was in the room.
The moment he realised he was a grandfather.
We all walked inside the room in a tiny procession, and I walked protectively in front, right to the makeshift crib I had for now. I really needed to get a new one for my little Prince.
I reached inside and took the baby in my arms, wrapping him in a soft baby blue blanket. I cooed and soothed him, and soon, his wails stopped.
“Dad,” I started, my tone serious, but my mouth set in a smile. “I’d like you to meet George. Your grandson.”
I walked over to him, showing him the tiny baby in my arms. My dad’s eyes started watering as he looked down at George’s scrunched up, reddening face.