Saving Della Ray

“The little girl you were with,” he began.

Then like a habit, I felt everything inside of me tighten in defense. “Jess,” I whispered my baby’s name.

“Is she yours?” he asked.

My answer was prompt. “Yes, she is.”

He looked away. “Must be tough,” he said with a sigh.

My back was ramrod straight with defensiveness. “It’s not. She’s the loveliest little girl in the entire world. She’s made my entire life a million times better.”

“Probably,” he said and lost himself to deep contemplation.

I didn’t know whether to continue being offended by his pity, or if something else entirely was going on.

“Tracy was definitely a light in mine,” he said quietly. “But sometimes, I’m not entirely sure if that was true. It wasn’t her fault, I know but she still left, and destroyed me. I don’t know if I can ever forgive her for that.”

My eyes narrowed in confusion. “Tracy?”

“My daughter,” he replied. “She had down syndrome just like Jess. She left a day before her fifth birthday.”

Something cold and painful struck me so hard in the middle of my chest, it took my breath away.

He swung his body towards me. So fast, I was surprised how in tune he was to me. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but edged with concern.

“You had a daughter like Jess,” I gasped in shock. It was the last thing I could have ever imagined hearing from this man.

“I did …” he responded, his voice taking on a wistful, yearning quality. “A lifetime ago.”

I wanted to know more, much more, but I didn’t know if it would be appropriate to prod any further. Even revealing what he already had, it felt like I’d somehow pried into something very, very private and horribly painful.

“Jess is actually not my daughter,” I explained softly. I hadn’t planned on telling him that, but I hated seeing the pain buried inside him, and I just wanted to take the conversation away from his girl and his pain. “My sister had her, but because we’d just lost both of our parents she didn’t have much to live by and she couldn’t cope with how much attention Jess needed. She’s not a bad person. She just got terrified that she wouldn’t be able to do it. You know, care properly for Jess.”

“And you?” he asked, staring at me. “You’re not terrified?”

In that moment, brutal reality hit me. Maybe Nichole was right. I was the cruel one here. Denise had enough brains to give up Jess, so she could find a family who would be able to give her all the care she needed. I had been adamant that we shouldn’t put Jess up for adoption, but now I could barely feed us and I’d definitely, massively underestimated the intensity of the medical care she would require for the heart disease that came with her condition. At the time, I had been so full of naïve enthusiasm I had been ready to do whatever it took to keep her with me, but I was beginning to doubt the wisdom in my decision.

“Hey,” he prompted softly. “I’m not criticizing your decision.”

“I am terrified,’ I replied. “I’m terrified she needs more than I can give, but—I can’t trust that anyone else would love her more than me or give her what she deserves either.”

For the longest time, he didn’t speak, just stared at the surface of the bar as if he was a statue.

I waited until I couldn’t anymore, then I leaned a bit closer to him. He was more than just the hunk I couldn’t get out of my mind now. He had become a person whom had been through the same deep waters I was currently trying my best to stay afloat in, but he had drowned. More than before, I could appreciate the sadness in his eyes. Something told me that his pain went much deeper than I would ever be able to comprehend.

“What do you think? Do you think I should give her up?” I asked. “Bone?”

He turned to me, his gaze so full of pain, regret and fury I felt my chest constrict.

“Keep going,” he growled. “Keep going until you absolutely cannot anymore. Because if you don’t, and she gets hurt. God! The guilt that you could have done much, much more for her, if only you’d tried just a little bit harder will forever haunt you. You might never recover from it.”

I wanted to ask about the mother of his child, but I reckoned that we had gone a little further than I had anticipated tonight. Yeah, it was time to stop.

I drained what was left of my drink and rose from the stool with a mixture of exhaustion, emotion, or maybe it was just the drink, I couldn’t tell, but it made my knees buckle under me. I stumbled and staggered backwards, my arms flailing.