“Ed,
what is that?” He shot up, turning around to face Leila, his wife. His pot-pie-
cooking, Facebook-stalking, dog-breeding wife.
“Nothing,”
he said, not attempting to hide the envelope.
She
raised an eyebrow, “Then?”
“It’s
a work thing,” he said. He knew the word “work” would cause her mind to shift
elsewhere. She’d walk away swaying her birthing hips that they recently
discovered can’t bear children.
She
shrugged, mimicking the image in his head perfectly as she went towards the
living room. She was beautiful in the most average sense of the word. He stared
at her hips, seeing them narrower than they were. He resented her for not being
able to give him a child. He grew up in a household of three sisters and two
brothers. They were his only friends and he wanted to give his children that
privilege to. He thought he would never get the chance until today.
He
opened the envelope again, forgetting how fast his heart was beating. Thump, thump,
thumping
on his guilt. He never told Leila about Jenna. Leila compares herself to every
woman she sees. She’ll whisper things like “God, she’s so thin” or “I wish I could pull that off.” He especially couldn’t
say anything now. He had lain in bed with Leila and listened to her cry for
weeks on end after in-vitro failed for the third time. They couldn’t afford
another one. The doctor never used the word infertile but Ed knew. One word in
the letter stood out to him:
CONSISTENT, or in other words, Ed is
the father.
He could have
had DNA 12, 13 or 12, 14 but he had 12, 15 and so did the tested “child”. That
child belonged to Jenna. She must have known he would understand the letter
because she used to show him reports like these from her work at the hospital,
laughing when a couple decided to call their kid “Dick” or “Gay”. Ed met Jenna
at the hospital after accidentally slicing his thumb open while making a meal
for himself. She made him laugh and smile in a way he did not even think was
possible. He always told her after that that it was “love at first sight”, to
which she responded by sticking her tongue out at him playfully. She was
infatuated with him to say the least, but Ed was the one in love. He rubbed his thumb over the
doctor’s handwriting at the bottom that read “Jason.”
There
were worse names. He knew Jenna picked that one because she used to cry from
laughter at his fixation (OCD as his therapist calls it) on little things like
words and letters and whether the door was really
locked. She didn’t mind his nervous ticks. She paid close attention to them
as if they fascinated her, making Ed less anxious about having them. She knew
all of his habits. And she certainly knew his first thought would be how the J
in Jenna and the J in Jason form a bond that the E in Ed would never be a part
of. And he might have wanted to be a part of her again. Did the letter mean she did too?
“I’m
going to the grocery store,” Leila shouted. “Do you need anything?”
He
swallowed several sentences, acid reflux creeping up his throat. “No!”
“No,
thank you,” she said in an irritated
tone. “No one respects me.”
Husbands
learn to block out 90 percent of the nagging that doesn’t lead to a divorce and
only briefly handle the other ten. He had gotten good at it after being with
Leila for five years. He never learned to love Leila the way he loved Jenna.
Leila and Ed met through friends of friends. He always assumed they would only ever
be just that until he realized he would never get over Jenna if he didn’t try
to move on. He didn’t think Leila would say yes, but a part of him knew she
wanted someone desperately enough to be okay with marrying someone who wouldn’t
love her completely. He appreciated Leila even though he didn’t love her.
And then the
letter.
He
waited to hear the garage door close before picking up the home phone. He was
one of the few members of his Saturday
night poker club that still had a house phone. It felt heavy. Jenna knew all of
his friends, all of his secrets. He used to spoil her with flowers, chocolates,
every romantic cliché there was. All she had to do in return was smile and make
him laugh.
He
dialed five, then six, then ten digits. The ring bothered him because it seemed
to get lower, lower, lower…
“Hello?”
Her voice sounded sharp.
“Oh,
hi.”
“You
called me, who is this?”
“It’s
Ed, Ed Bass?”
“You
got it?”
“It’s
nice hearing--What?”
“Did
you get the letter or not?”
“Oh—”
he gulped away from the phone. “Yeah, I did.”
“And?”
“You
sent me a letter…”
“What’s your
point?”
“The
date on here is dated 5 years ago.”
“Come
on Ed, I got the test done as soon as I could.”
“Why
now Jen? He’s a kid, isn’t he?”
“It’s
not like you would change any diapers, Ed. You hate dirt.”
He
laughed, surprising himself. “I didn’t know I had a fucking kid.”
“Should
you?”
“I’m
not the one who left.”
“Ed—”
“Is
that why you left? You knew I wanted children.”
“You
know that’s not why I left.”
“I
don’t know. I—should I visit him or?”
“You
mean, may you?”
“Yeah—”
She
coughed. There was some static and moving around of things that Ed couldn’t
identify. She had to be in the kitchen, he thought. He pressed his hand against
his stomach, a technique his therapist taught him when he needed to calm down. Focus on your center. He couldn’t
contain his building rage. She listened to him tell story after story about his
siblings, about his love for big families. It’s like she forgot who he was,
what he meant to her. He wanted to believe he meant more than a letter and a
phone call. He pressed his ear to the phone, wanting to absorb into it.
“Hi,”
a young, perky voice said.
“This…isn’t
Jenna. Who is this?”
“Jason,”
he giggled.
His
stomach did somersaults towards his spine. He set the phone down for a moment, placing
a hand around his neck. He couldn’t take it. His OCD made him find similarities
between his voice and the high-pitched one on the other end of the line. He
fought back tears. Ed worked hard to forget Jenna after she left him without
even saying goodbye. He worked hard to love Leila even when he knew he
couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault, it was his. He compared Leila to Jenna more than
Leila compared herself to everyone else. He worked hard to make children to
fill the emptiness in his heart. Jason gave him hope and hurt him at the same
time.
He hadn’t had
the chance to overthink all the details of Jason’s life: whether he learned to
walk too late or too early. Was his first word with a lisp or without?
“Jason,
can you ask Jen—mommy something?”
The
giggle came with a nod Ed imagined.
“Ask
her what your first word was.” God damn
it, Ed thought. The first time he speaks to his kid and he has to get obsessive
on him.
He
heard exchanged whispers.
“Cheeeeeeeeese,”
Jason said.
“Cheese,
huh? That’s good.”
“Gotta
go, dad.” Click.
Click, Ed thought. Onomatopoeia’s bothered
him. The sound rattled in his frontal lobe like a 25 cent bouncy ball. He
forced himself not to dial back. He should have said “goodbye, son.” or “son”
or “bye, sorry son son my son.” Leila would be home in a few minutes. The
grocery store was a quick walk away and she took advantage of it to walk the
huskies or poodles or whatever dog breed she was keeping this month. They were
her babies. He hadn’t felt that way no matter how many times he cleaned up
their shit in the front yard.
He
gave Leila a house, a stable income, and a marriage. She had her babies so he
could have his, right?
He set the phone down after he heard the garage open. He thought he was over Jenna. Or he had gotten good at pretending to be. Now he had the rest of Jason’s life as a reminder that he wasn’t. He tried to forget the nights they spent camping in the backyard because Ed hated the woods, the meals that fell flat because Jenna couldn’t cook but had too much pride to ask Ed for help. He tried to forget the freckles on her nose that he counted over and over again. Afterwards she would ask how many and tease him when the number came out different than the last time. Now he wasn’t sure he wanted to forget. Ed held his chest, as scared as he would ever be. He realized he couldn’t forget what was in his heart because it wasn’t with him anymore. It’s been with Jenna this whole time. And he wasn’t going to stand around and wait for another phone call.
“I
got some bananas,” Leila said, walking toward him with three bags in hand. “A
little help?”
He
grabbed a bag, setting it on the counter. He tried to gather himself. Her hair
frizzed out the way that Jenna’s didn’t.
“I’m
going to Wisconsin this weekend,” he said, rummaging through the groceries like
he had an appetite.
“What,
why?” She took a can of beans from a bag.
Part
of him wanted to smile and say “I’m a father, dear,” instead he said “Work. A conference.” He didn’t want to hurt
Leila any more than he has.
She
nodded her head, “Was that the call?”
“What?”
He looked at her, panicked. Leila didn’t know about Jenna. She didn’t know
anything about him really. She knew his favorite color and his favorite food
but not his deepest childhood fear. He liked it that way. Then he remembered
the perky voice. “Oh, yeah.”
“You
could’ve just told me right away,” she said, smiling. “Bring back some cheese.”
He
laughed. “Cheeeeese, right.”
She
gave him a concerned glance, leaving the fridge open likes he tells her not to
do.
He
helped her put away the food, mentally calculating the little things that would
lead up to meeting his baby for the
first time. He was going to find Jason, but a part of him knew he was really
going to see Jenna.
#
He
booked a flight for that weekend. Sitting around the house with Leila breathing
down his neck, whispering cherry tomato-smelling nothings had him fixating on what
to pack, what to say when he got there, what to say if Leila happened to call.
On the day of the flight itself, he walked out the door overly-packed, waving
to his wife without looking at her. The term “wife” distressed him. He Googled
the word using three different dictionaries because he realized he didn’t know
what wife stood for. The definitions meant little compared to the synonyms:
spouse, partner, woman, life partner. He asked himself if he knew that when he
married Leila. He never considered Leila to be his life-partner. It seemed
restrictive, almost a prison sentence. He wondered if Jenna still loved him,
what he would do if she did. Could he leave Leila and his life behind to be
with Jenna and Jason? He couldn’t answer it now
“Call
me when you get there,” Leila yelled.
The
airport, take-off, and landing took up the same amount of space in Ed’s memory
as
did the taxi ride to Jenna’s
apartment. He regretted not calling to tell her he was coming. He hoped she
would admire the spontaneity he always lacked. He still felt anger towards
Jenna, but the beating of his heart overpowered that rage. He spent several
years with her, infatuated with her ability to make everything fun and light.
Unfortunately, that same light-hearted attitude applied to her ability commit.
He never popped the question, but he never had the chance to. She was gone when
things got too serious, when Ed was at his happiest.
The taxi driver
hummed elevator show tunes in spread out versus as if rapping. “First time here?”
Ed
focused on the frost collecting on his window. “No, I’ve lived here before.”
“Where
you from?”
“Seattle.”
“A
lot of people kill themselves there.”
“I
don’t blame them.”
The
driver continued humming like it wasn’t the first time he’s had that
conversation. He pulled up to a curb in front of an apartment complex in what
seemed to be middle class suburbia. Ed thought about Forrest Gump coming back
to Jenny and young Forrest after years of emotional tug of war. He didn’t run a
marathon or go to war, but he might as well have. He spent years drowning
himself in work and working on his relationship with Leila even though he knew
it would never be the one he wanted. He shut the door to the taxi and began up
the stairs to apartment 2B. “Jenny,” he whispered. He coddled the block of
cheese he picked up at the airport.
He
took a few steps back, holding his cheeks to keep them from sucking in past the
bone. She left him, what was he doing there? Why did he still love her so
goddamn much?
The
door opened by itself. Ed looked down at a boy that almost stood past his
thigh. He
had the exact same features as Ed:
brown hair, blue eyes, and freckled cheeks. The test results didn’t mention that.
“Who
arrrr you?” Jason asked.
“I’m—Ed.
Is mommy home?”
He
shook his head.
Ed
kneeled down. “You’re by yourself?”
Jason
nodded.
Ed
stepped into the apartment, peering around. Things were scattered everywhere, a
sock here, a shirt there. It looked like someone had robbed the place. “You
shouldn’t open the door for strangers.” He realized his harsh tone, clearing
his throat. His heart beat fast, worried that Jenna had been kidnapped, killed,
the worst of the worst. There were never any good scenarios with Ed. He always
assumed the worst.
“Vroooooom,”
Jason took a toy car, flying it to a coffee table in front of a TV stand.
“Do
you know where she went?” Ed asked, going to the fridge that was cracked open. He
couldn’t keep his eyes off Jason. He ran his hands through his hair, scratching
his scalp. He wasn’t ready to be a hero. He just wanted to pour out his heart
to Jenna.
“With
Adum.”
Ed
didn’t have time to reflect on what looked like an empty dresser. “Wait-what? Adam?”
He put his hands down.
“Mommy’s
fwend.”
“Did
she say where she was going?”
He
threw the car on the carpet, making a distinct boom sound. “Iono.”
Ed
stared at Jason. He helped produce this living, breathing onomatopoeia.
A stack of papers on the counter in the
kitchen caught his eye. He shuffled through bills, expecting to find a random
note until he stumbled across a letter addressed to him. It had his name
written in Jenna’s handwriting and nothing else. He opened it with as much
anticipation, caution, and fear as the first time:
Dear
Ed,
I’m sorry I cannot be there to greet
you. I’m sure you look as well as you did all those
years
ago. I am leaving with my boyfriend Adam to South Africa for experimental field
work. I
don’t
know when I’ll be coming back. Jason is yours in the meantime. Have fun.
Love,
Jenna
“Have fun?” Ed
threw the letter as hard as he could, watching it float to the carpet like the
last oak leaves in the fall. He shouted. He wasn’t as surprised as he wanted to
be. She left him once, she could leave him again. But this time she left Jason
too, and that hurt him the most. She could break his heart, but now she would
break the little one that they made together. Was she trying to insult him or
drive him insane? Both?
Jason
stared up at him, sucking his thumb.
“It’s okay, s—buddy.”
Ed pulled out his phone and dialed.
The ring, riiiing, riiiing got
higher, higher—
“Hello?” Jenna’s voice cracked.
“Are you kidding me?”
“I’m sorry…”
“You’re sorry? I flew all the way
over here with this god damn image of Forrest Gump in my mind thinking that’s
exactly what you wanted.”
“What?”
“You should—”
“It’s what you want.”
“What if I hadn’t come? Jason opened
the door to a complete stranger.”
“I knew you would.”
“You don’t know me that well anymore. It’s been a long
time, Jen. How selfish are you?”
“You’re not mad because I left.”
“I was mad when you left the first
time. I can’t believe you set me up like this.”
“You’re mad that I’m over you.”
“How—” Ed put the phone to his
chest, letting it move up and down with his breathing. Jason attempted a
somersault into the couch, bumping his head and crying. Ed thought about smacking
his head too. His mother told him that seasons change, people don’t. He
remembered when Jenna left the first time, but to Europe instead of South
Africa because of more field work or fun work or whatever work gave her the
excuse. “Wisconsin is a prison made of cheese,” she had said. He didn’t find
out where she went till months after.
“Jen, I think I still love you.”
“I don’t, Ed. I’m sorry.”
“No, Jen. I know I still love you. We
have a kid together.”
“He’s your baby boy.”
“Do you love me? Did you ever love
me?”
“Ed, I’m with someone. You are too.”
“Jason is ours. We could try again.”
“Ed, you’re married.”
“She’s---different.”
“And I am too. I have to go.”
She hung up. Ed held his hands over
his eyes. He didn’t want to cry anymore. He held onto the counter as if it were
the idea of Jenna. He grasped it tight, the tips of his fingers turning pale.
He hit it with his fist. He walked to the front door of the apartment,
surprised he forgot to lock it. Locking doors was one of his most prominent
habits. His mind was too much of a mess to fixate on anything. He had never
felt so sad because of someone he never really had.
Ed looked at how clueless Jason was.
He put on a smile. “Jason, do you like cheese?”
“Noooo,” he replied, sticking out
his tongue. Ed could already tell Jason would irritate
him
with his smell, his noises, and his constant need to be entertained. He would
be a constant reminder of Jenna. But he had the feeling he could love Jason,
more than he pretended to love Leila and more than he loves Jenna. It didn’t
matter what Leila said or did. It didn’t matter if Jenna came back or not. Ed
could never forget Jenna. The pain would never go away, but he wanted to try.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I’ll never leave you, son,” he
continued. He took Jason’s petite hand, leaving the cheese on the faded rug
near the TV stand.
No comments:
Post a Comment