My Babies and Me

“Well, I...yeah...”

“Come on, Michael,” she said, standing up. She couldn’t let him tower over her anymore. “This is big-time, a huge coup. The result of years and years of effort. And you didn’t think I’d care?”

“Don’t you get it, Susan?” He took a step closer. “What it means is that I’ve got no intentions, ever, of having any part in your baby’s life. That I went into this knowing I’d already denied all responsibility for it. That I denied responsibility knowing I was going into this. For all intents and purposes, I’m not your baby’s father.”

“Yeah.” She promised herself she wouldn’t let the tears fall. Not in front of him. “I do realize that.”

“And?” Arms crossed at his chest, he challenged her.

“That was always the plan, Michael,” she reminded him. “You forget, I know you. The request was a strictly biological one. It was never for you to be my baby’s father.”

She wanted so desperately for him to know she understood.

“I guess it’s just damn lucky we aren’t still married, huh?” He tried to joke, but she saw how much he was hating himself.

And hated herself for doing this to him.

“That’s what these past weeks have been about, isn’t it?” she asked him, taking a step toward him. “You’ve been beating yourself up for not wanting to be a father, haven’t you?” That was as straightforward as she could be.

Staring at her, his eyes full of emotion, Michael was silent.

“You can’t help needing other things from life, Michael,” she said softly. “You didn’t ask to feel like you do. Nor have you ever made any secret of it.”

“Maybe not.”

“You’re a good, honorable man.” She slid her arms around him. “A hardworking man. And fair. You’ve always been completely honest with me.”

Michael held himself stiffly, hands at his sides.

“What you did was wonderful, selfless, forgoing your own desires to give me what I needed.”

Pouring her heart into every word, Susan was determined to get through to him. “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had....” She broke off as the tears that had been waiting to fall finally did.

His arms came around her slowly, pulling her against him. And for those brief moments, she felt strong enough to make it alone.

CARLISLE LOOKED exactly the same, too. Other than the addition of a twenty-four-hour convenience store about five years back, nothing had changed there in decades. He’d been born and raised in the downtrodden little town, as had his parents before him. And their parents before them.

Pushing his rental to the limit, he made the two-hour trip from Cincinnati in a little over an hour, arriving at his parents’ home just before the end of the ten o’clock news. Any later and they’d have been in bed.

“Michael! Sam, look, it’s Michael!” His mother came running down the porch steps in her slippers and robe, wrapping him in her hug. “Sam! Michael’s come.”

“Yes, I see.” Michael’s father came out of the house, as well, a bit more slowly, but with a grin as wide as his mother’s. “Good to see you, son!”

Shaking the hand Michael offered, he pulled his son in for a quick hug, too.

“Come on in,” Mary Kennedy said, yanking Michael by the hand. “Have you eaten? I’ve got meat loaf left over from dinner. Or I can mix up a batch of biscuits if you’d like.”

“It’s okay, Mom, I’m not hungry.” Michael allowed himself to be led into the house, drop

ping his satchel by the door before he followed both his parents into the kitchen.

It seemed that every important event in the Kennedy family had happened right there in that kitchen. He and Susan had announced their engagement, sitting at this very table, with cups of hot chocolate between them, just about this same time of night. Only that evening they’d driven like bats out of hell from Cleveland State University, instead of from Cincinnati.

They’d announced their divorce here, too. The Sunday after they’d signed the papers that made it official. He’d wondered a time or two why they’d put off telling his parents for so long. Had he maybe hoped it wouldn’t happen? That Susan would find a way to convince him a divorce wasn’t necessary?

“Here, have some pie.” His mother dropped a plate completely covered with apple pie and vanilla ice cream in front of him. And another one in front of his father.

“Thanks, Mom, this looks great,” he said, suddenly more hungry than he’d thought. He’d always loved his mother’s cooking.