Georgia shoots to her feet, outraged. I just sigh.
“I figured,” I say.
Polly’s shocked eyes shoot to me.
“You guessed?” she asked.
I snort.
“I’m not a complete fucking idiot,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Your parents are okay with me, then suddenly they’re hiding you, snapping at me when they bring the divorce papers and refusing to see their granddaughter? There were very few reasons for that. Though how did you convince them not to take custody from me? Weren’t they frightened for Lily?”
“It took some convincing that you adored Lily and that your parents were filing for custody, instead,” Polly grimaces, squirming under my gaze.
“Probably a good thing dear old Dad was gone by then, or they’d never believe Lily was going to a good home,” I say. “Though, in case you wanted to know, Mom passed away five years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Polly says, her face creasing in sadness. She genuinely loved my mother. “I wish I’d known.”
I don’t say anything to that. I had had no way of contacting her, after all. I look at Georgia. She still looks furious, but she slowly sits when she sees me staring at her, biting her lip.
“So, you threw me under the bus because you didn’t want to tell anyone that you wanted to divorce me and didn’t want children.”
It’s odd how calm I feel right now. I feel like I should be raging at the world, which has thrown me under the bus more than once. Or yelling at Polly, who lied and manipulated everyone around her because…why?
Why did she go to these lengths? It’s the one thing I don’t understand. Why didn’t she say something before she reached the breaking point, when she had to run away? Why did she lie to me and her family?
“Why?” The word slips from me. I shake my head helplessly. “What happened, Polly?”
Polly frowns and looks down at her half-drunk coffee.
“We spoke about it, remember?” she asks quietly. “Having children. You weren’t sure because of the influence of your own father. I straight up said no. I didn’t want children.”
“I remember,” I say. “I was okay with that. I still asked you to marry me, knowing about that.”
“I know,” Polly replies with a nod. “Then…then I fell pregnant. We just weren’t careful enough. When we found out…I was so scared.”
“So was I,” I remind her.
“But then you started to think about it, remember?” Polly asks. “You started to linger when we passed children’s toys in the store. I overheard you asking some of your work friends who have children about baby food. While cleaning, I found a catalog for baby furniture. As the weeks passed, you were nervous…but you were excited. You really wanted this kid. You never said it, but we’d been together for a long time. I could tell. So, I was stuck. I couldn’t get rid of the baby; it would have devastated you. But I didn’t want it once it was born. For the entire pregnancy, I struggled to think of what to do.”
“But you carried Lily to term,” I say before frowning. “I wish you had spoken to me about all this.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Polly says with a wry smile. “When I had Lily, I decided that it would be okay. The baby was born, and I just had to try my best. But nothing seemed to go right. Lily cried whenever I held her, but she would settle with you immediately. She was lactose intolerant as a baby, remember? So I had to restrict what I was eating. I couldn’t go out with my friends anymore. I was struggling to lose weight from the pregnancy. I felt ugly and trapped.” She catches the expression on my face. “Don’t look at me like that. I know how selfish it all was. I was only thinking of myself. I didn’t think about Lily at all.”
“You might have had post-partum depression,” Georgia says quietly. “It’s pretty common, actually. Did you ever speak to anyone about it?”
“A year or so later…I did,” Polly confesses. “I went to a psychologist and told her everything. She said the same thing. But it doesn’t really excuse anything.” She grimaces. “I got depressed and ran away, divorcing my husband out of nowhere, abandoning my child and then telling my family that I was being abused just so they wouldn’t question me. Months after it all happened, I honestly couldn’t figure out why I had done all that. It just felt so insane. But I didn’t know how to take it all back. Even now, I can’t tell Mom the truth. And, I should, because I ch
eated her and Dad out of a grand-daughter.”
She sighs heavily.
“And all because I didn’t want children,” she says quietly. “And went insane from the stress of having a child.”
“I assume you’re better now?” I ask, less because I care, more because I’m supposed to be sending my daughter out with this woman on the weekend.
“Yes,” Polly assures me. “I saw my psychologist for a long time to work through these things with her. She was wonderful. It’s because of her that I was able to have a meaningful relationship with Warrick and eventually marry him.”
I feel very tired. I don’t want to hear how wonderfully Polly’s life went after she got back on her feet. I had thought I would feel satisfied once I knew the story, but, instead, I feel empty and drained. Part of me is incredulous about it all. Her excuses don’t feel good enough to me.