“I thought you loved me,” he accuses angrily. “You said you loved me.”
I lead him away from the center of the lobby, back down the hall leading to the stairwell. “I do love you,” I say softly. “I always will. But you need to deal with this. Permanently. Before we can ever try to start again.”
“I will. I promise.” He staggers closer to me. “Just don’t go. Don’t do this to me.”
I take a deep breath and cross my arms, hugging myself. “We have a daughter,” I blurt out. “She’s almost five years old. That’s why I came to see you when I found out your band was playing here.”
His eyes widen like saucers then squint to thin slits. “What? When? How?”
“I found out a few weeks after you went to get bagels.”
His face contorts with severe confusion. “A baby?”
Not once did I ever expect to be having this conversation with him while he’s stoned out of his skull, and it’s making me want to smack him, because this should be the most important news of his life. “Yes. A baby,” I repeat.
“You never told me.”
“How could I? I had no way of finding you. I didn’t even know your real name!”
He leans against the wall and runs his hands over his face. “I don’t believe this,” he mumbles. “I’m way too high for this heavy shit.”
“Well, obviously.”
“I’m so fucked. So fucked.”
My heart breaks watching him slide down the wall until he’s sitting on his heels, rocking. “I tried to find you after you left. I looked for you for months. Every weekend I went to every damn park in the tri-state area looking for you.”
I can see on his face he’s a million miles away, not even hearing me. Finally, he looks up at me. “A girl?”
“Yes. She’s adorable. She has dark brown hair, and eyes the same color as yours. She’s smart, and inquisitive, and caring. You’d love her, Blue. Everyone does. Her name is Lyric.”
“Lyric,” he repeats. “That’s such a cool fucking name.”
I kneel down on the floor next to him. “I didn’t want to tell you like this. I should have told you last night but… I don’t know. I was scared, I guess. But that’s why I came here to see you. I wanted you to know you have a daughter. And someday—when you’re really better—you can see her. If you want to, you can be part of her life. But not like this.”
“No. I can’t.”
I nod in agreement.
“Ever,” he adds.
“What?”
“I can’t do that…be somebody’s father. I couldn’t even take care of my dog.”
“Blue—”
He rises to his feet, and I do too, but he hangs his head, hiding behind the hair hanging over his face. “I’m sorry, Ladybug, you know I can’t do that. Look at me. I’ll never be good for that little girl. I’m just a worthless piece of shit.” He reaches into his pocket and comes out with a wad of cash, thrusting it at me.
I push his hand away. “I’m not a hooker, Blue.”
“It’s for her. To take care of her.”
Despair settles into me. “We’re fine.” I blink back tears, resigning myself to the end that’s now our unexpected reality. “You should go back upstairs before someone sees you like this. Drink some coffee or go to sleep or do whatever it is you do when you get like this. I need to go home.”
Still not looking at me, he nods and shoves the cash back into his pocket. That’s when I notice the tiny ladybug tattoo on the side of his wrist, and it nearly cracks my heart wide open. Tentatively, I reach out and gently touch his arm.
“Please take care of yourself,” I tell him, and that’s all I really want. Is to see him better. Truly better, in every sense of the word.
He closes in on me and pulls me into a desperate embrace, and we cling to each other for a long time, and God, how I wish things were different. I would have done anything to try again, to finally start over with this man I love so much. We were so close to getting there.
He cups my face in his hands, gently wipes his thumbs across my cheeks and kisses me so soft and so deep, I swear he’s trying to crawl right into my heart. What he doesn’t realize, is that he’s already there.
And that postcard I sent you
With the pretty little picture on the front
And all those words I wrote on the back
Sincerely yours, see you soon, and all my fuckin’ love
You got it too late, you were already gone,
And there was nothing else I could do.
I hug him tight, my lyrical, dark, beautiful love.
And then I let go.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Mondays can suck it.
It’s not even Monday, it’s Wednesday. But I didn’t come into work for two days, so now my Wednesday is masquerading as a Monday.