“It’s my fault—”
“It’s my fault, Luce. We’ve talked about this. I made a mistake. You did nothing wrong.”
“B-but … it was an accident.”
“Sweetie…” Tatum wrapped an arm around her “…it was an accident. But sometimes it’s hard to forget about big accidents. But I know you will help both me and your dad feel better over time. You are the most important person in our lives, and we will never let you feel anything but completely loved. Okay?”
Lucy nodded slowly. “But someday, you’ll get married again. Right?”
Our daughter was on the precipice of learning everything in the world we’d tried so hard to protect her from—the heartbreak of love and loss. How things like death and divorce were final. And the aching part of one’s heart that was the tiny exception to unconditional love.
Kids would talk at school. She’d read more books with more realism in them. She’d watch more grown-up shows on television. We couldn’t protect her forever, but we did our best to make things hurt a little less by giving them as much of a positive spin as possible.
Mommy and I won’t live together, but that means you’ll get twice as many birthday and Christmas presents. It was admittedly pathetic, but it was all we had.
“Lucy, we can’t predict the future, so we’re just going to take it a day at a time. And for now, Dad will live somewhere else, but you’ll get to see him a lot.”
That was the biggest lie. I already knew I wasn’t getting to see her a lot. Truth? When we told Lucy, we had already signed papers. We had already gone before a judge to settle the custody arrangement. I had already been given one measly day a week with my daughter. After we decided to get divorced, something in Tatum changed. Her grief turned into pure anger. Anger at me. I thought my willingness to leave was the answer. I thought it would give her the space she needed.
I was wrong.
It sparked a new kind of rage and resentment. And I didn’t understand it. I was so blind.
“So you’re leaving today?” Lucy asked.
I nod. “I’m not leaving like going away. I’m just going to sleep at a different house. And this weekend you can come see it.”
“Stay the night?”
“Maybe on special occasions.” Tatum kissed Lucy’s head. “You’ll spend Saturday with your dad. The whole day. Then you’ll come home to sleep. Dad’s new home is pretty close, so it’s silly to not just come back to your own bed to sleep. All your stuff is here.”
It felt so incredibly cruel, but so did the environment we’d been living in since Austin died. Tatum forced every smile. And she rarely laughed. I thought with me out of the house, it might help her heal faster, and it might allow Lucy to see real smiles and real laughter. Something every child deserved.
“I’m going to finish packing a few things downstairs, then you can come and kiss me goodnight,” I said, opting for a goodnight that felt no different than all the goodnights I gave her before I moved out.
“Okay.” Lucy managed a half smile.
As I shoved the rest of my clothes into a second suitcase, Tatum came into the bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. “She’s going to be okay,” I said.
“I know.”
“She’s going to want to spend the night, on more than just special occasions. So you’d better figure out how you’re going to handle that like…” I emerge from the closet after taking one last look through the drawers “…maybe actually letting her spend the night when she wants to.”
“I can’t,” she whispered.
“Because you don’t trust me?”
“Emmett …” She stared at her folded hands. “It’s not fair for you to ask me to trust you. Not now. Maybe not ever. I …” My wife (ex-wife) wielded a sharp knife, and she knew how to slice my heart into tiny pieces. She glanced up. “I don’t even know you anymore.”
When I took the blame for Austin’s drowning, I knew I’d lose a lot. But I didn’t let myself fully believe that Tatum would no longer trust me with Lucy. I had to fight for one day—ten fucking hours.
“Will there ever come a day when you stop punishing me?”
“Will there ever come a day when Austin comes back? When everything that’s happened is no longer real?” She narrowed her gaze at me, and I saw the hatred in her eyes.
I lost everything to save Lucy, and in spite of the pain I felt in my chest at that moment, the tears threatening my eyes, I knew it was the right choice. It was the only choice.
“I’ll pick her up at eight on Saturday.”
NOW
“I walked! Dad! I walked!” Lucy yells, the second I open the door.
It’s been a week since she skipped her therapy appointment to mend her broken heart. It’s also been a week since I’ve seen Tatum, which has been odd. She’s managed to be gone just before I get home and arrives in the morning just minutes after I leave for work.