Not My Daughter

‘I’ll take care of it.’ Which makes me sound like some sort of pest problem. I heft the bag I’m carrying so Matt can see it.

‘I brought some food…’

‘Come in,’ he says rather ungraciously, and steps aside so I can squeeze past.

It’s strange being in their house again. I was here a few months ago, to tell them about my brother, but I didn’t notice any details because I was so distraught. Now I look around, and see evidence of Alice everywhere. Crayoned pictures Sellotaped to the fridge. A basket of toys, with plastic unicorns and princesses featuring heavily. A half-done puzzle of a fairy castle on the coffee table. A plastic juice beaker, the kind for a small toddler, by the sink.

‘Shall I put these in the kitchen?’ I ask, and Matt shrugs. His animosity feels palpable, like a thick, oily substance coating the air, making it difficult to breathe.

I unload the soup and brownies on the counter and spend an inordinate amount of time folding the bag while Matt just waits. Does he expect me to leave now? Should I?

‘How are you both managing?’ I finally ask and he makes a huff of sound.

‘How do you think?’

‘I’d like to help…’

‘We don’t need your help, Anna.’ The rebuff is quick and absolute, and despite everything, it still surprises me. It still hurts.

I stare at Matt, noting how he clenches and unclenches his fists, his stance one of complete aggression, as if I’m the enemy. Still.

‘Matt…’ I take a deep breath. I wasn’t going to talk about the past tonight. I didn’t want to resurrect old ghosts, have them drift around us, but with the sound of Alice splashing in the bath upstairs, I find myself saying words I didn’t expect to, even though I’ve already said them to Milly. ‘Matt, I’m sorry.’

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t acknowledge my apology with so much as a flicker of an eyelid.

‘I’m sorry for before,’ I clarify. ‘For thinking, even for a moment, that Alice was… that I was…’

‘Anna, don’t.’ The words are savage, bitten off. ‘Not now.’

‘I don’t know what possessed me,’ I continue haltingly, determined now to say what I have never had the chance to say to him. ‘It was such a strange time, and I didn’t expect to feel the way I did…’

He takes a menacing step towards me. ‘Don’t you dare make excuses now,’ he says in a low voice. ‘Don’t you dare, when you tried to steal our child—’

‘I didn’t steal anyone.’ For the last five years, I’ve tortured myself with guilt even as I’ve nurtured my anger, but I want to be finished with both now. Surely, considering Alice’s condition, we should put this behind us, finally and forever? We should be able to.

‘You would have, if you’d had the chance—’

‘No, listen. I admit, I consulted a lawyer. I was thinking of… of applying for custody. But I look back and I don’t think I would have ever gone through with it. Even the solicitor was discouraging me from—’

‘At least someone in the situation had some sense of morality—’

‘Matt, please. I know it was… it was wrong. But can’t you see it from my perspective, just for a moment? I was taking care of Alice all the time, for weeks—’

‘We trusted you—’

‘And even you had said you weren’t sure if Milly—’

‘And you threw it back in my face. A moment of weakness, when I was at my lowest—’

‘And what about me? What about my moment of weakness, my lowest? Did you ever consider that?’ My voice rings out, despairing, broken. ‘Did you ever think about how it felt for me—’

‘A normal person wouldn’t think that taking care of a baby when the parents are vulnerable means you then sue for custody.’ Matt’s voice is hard.

I shake my head, impatient now. ‘I wouldn’t have gone through with—’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘You don’t know that.’ We stare at each other, a stand-off. ‘Is that it, then?’ I ask more quietly. ‘No forgiveness? No moving on? One strike and I’m out? Is that how you operate, Matt?’