An Innocent Thanksgiving

“My parents love you, and you love them, and I don’t want to change that. You’re a good person, and you’re a part of their lives. That means you’ll be a part of Fern’s life, and that’s okay. She’ll love to have an Uncle Cal. You don’t have to worry about anything else. I’m not expecting any money, or time commitment. You’ll just be her friendly ‘uncle’ and nobody has to be any wiser.”

My words were probably harsh, I knew that. I tried to keep my tone even and kind and not to sound angry, but it was difficult. I was angry at him for rejecting me and for treating me and my choices like I was some foolish child who hadn’t known what she was doing, who had caused us both to ‘sin’ or something ridiculous like that. If what we’d done was such a mistake, then he should have said no to me. It’s not like he tripped and his dick fell into my vagina.

Besides, I had to protect my child. I had to protect Fern. If Cal wasn’t sure about being her father, and she found out, and had to feel rejected… no. Fern deserved only family that was in a hundred percent, that wanted her without question or doubt, that adored her and all that she was and all that she could be. If Cal couldn’t be her father than her didn’t deserve to be.

If it were just about me, if I hadn’t gotten pregnant… maybe things could’ve been different. Maybe I could have taken some time, and come back, and Cal and I could have a torrid affair or something, I didn’t know. We could’ve been… lovers, maybe, of a sort. It hurt to think of myself only as a dirty secret, as someone he would sleep with but not properly be with, but I knew myself all too well, and I knew that if it weren’t for Fern I would have subjected myself to that pain, to being that secret, if it meant that I got even a part of Cal.

Smart or stupid, I still had feelings for him, even after all this time. I couldn’t look at anyone else. They just… didn’t compare.

But Fern was in the picture, and so things were like this. And I was going to do what it took to protect her, keep her happy and safe. She would never know rejection, not if I could help it.

Even if in the process it meant that I hurt Cal, or hurt myself.

7

Cal

I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing and seeing. The Maggie that I knew was sharp-tongued and blunt, honest to a fault as her mom would always joke, but she was also hilarious, loving, and compassionate. I almost didn’t recognize the woman in front of me, a woman who was angry, sharp-tongued, and uncaring.

Had I done this to her? Had I made her this way? Maggie had once been so vibrant, and I could see that during dinner when she spoke to her parents or her daughter, but around me, there was a clear wall. She was keeping me out, and that hurt me more than I had ever expected. I wanted to knock that wall down, whatever it took.

I let Maggie talk as she explained what she had in mind: that I would just be ‘Uncle Cal’, a family friend, a fun and occasional presence in Fern’s life and nothing more. “You really have this all planned out, huh?”

Maggie grabbed her purse again and started towards the door. “I’ve had five years to think about this, so yes.”

I quickly walked around her, cutting her off, stopping her from getting to the door. “I let you do your talking, Maggie, now let me do mine.”

“You did plenty of talking that night,” she snapped, but I detected a crack in her voice, a hint of vulnerability. It occurred to me, suddenly, that perhaps she was being so harsh with me because she saw no other way to protect herself.

And why should she? I had given her no reason to think that I would welcome her with open arms, after the things that I had said that night.

“I don’t think you should have kept me in the dark. I don’t appreciate your tone, or your intimation that I’d be the type of guy who would reject his own daughter.” I didn’t usually get angry. I was a pretty easygoing guy. But it made my blood boil to think that I had been painted as the kind of cad who would cop out on looking after his kid. “If you had told me—Christ, Maggie, I would’ve done whatever it took to help you out. How hard was it to finish school while you had a kid? How hard was it to juggle a job? What sort of sacrifices—and all on your own? That wasn’t fair to you, and I should’ve been there, you should’ve let me be there.”