Jack
“Just go, Zara!” I yell. “I’m surprised you’ve stayed this long. We both know you don’t want to be here.”
“Don’t put all this on me,” she screeches. My jaw clenches as the sound of her voice grates on my last nerve. “I never even wanted a fucking baby.” My hands ball into fists at my sides, and I bite down on the inside of my mouth, anger coursing through me.
“Get out.” My voice is low, and I can’t look at her. My heart is breaking for the innocent little boy, asleep upstairs in his cot. He deserves so much more than the woman in front of me. I finally lift my eyes and watch as she picks up the bags she’s already packed.
“I’m sorry it had to end like this.” She looks at me, and I can’t bring myself to answer her. She’s not sorry. Jacob is only eighteen months old, but she checked out of our relationship and his life a long time ago. When I don’t respond, she turns on her heel and walks out, the door slamming behind her. Despite knowing this moment has been coming for a while, I can’t help but feel like a failure. Why weren’t Jacob and I enough for her? She didn’t even kiss him goodbye.
Zara and I had met almost three years ago in a bar. I’d been with the guys from work, and she was with her girlfriends. She was the life and soul of the bar, and I was instantly attracted to her. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair, stunning emerald green eyes, and a body I couldn’t keep my hands off. She came home with me that night and we saw each other on and off for the next few weeks. It was nothing serious. I liked her, but she didn’t seem the settling-down type. A couple of weeks later, she turned up on my doorstep, scared and pregnant. She wanted a termination, but after talking for hours, we decided to make a proper go of our relationship. I was as terrified as she was, but I thought we could go the distance. She moved into my place, and for a while, things were good. She stopped going out, and despite arguing occasionally, the nine months she was pregnant, our relationship was okay. It wasn’t perfect, but what relationship is?
About six months after Jacob was born, everything changed. It was like a switch had been flipped, and she reverted to the Zara I knew when we first met. She was out every night drinking, sometimes not even bothering to come home. I tried to talk to her, tried to make her see what she had at home, but she wasn’t interested. She’d struggled to adapt to motherhood, and I knew she missed going out with her friends. I’d been the one who encouraged her to go out with them. Unfortunately, it turned into her being out with her friends more than she was home with us. I couldn’t trust her to look after Jacob, and she spent most of her time in bed. Instead, I’d arranged childcare, dropping him off on my way into work. More often than not, when I’d arrive home with him in the evening, she’d be out. We rarely saw her.
Now she’s gone. I’d known it was coming, and if I’m honest, I thought it would have happened sooner. I’d considered leaving more than once, but I naively thought staying together was better for Jacob. How wrong I was.
I’m not in love with Zara. I think I was at the beginning, but any feelings I had for her had slowly ebbed away as I watched her ignore our son time and time again. I won’t mourn the loss of her, only the loss of what could have been. I’ve pretty much been a single dad to Jacob for the last nine months. I’m not afraid I can’t look after him, just afraid of not being enough. What I do know is he doesn’t need a mother like Zara in his life. He’s the most amazing little boy, and I will never understand why she couldn’t see that.
Jacob is the most important person in my life, and he will always know how much I love him. We don’t need Zara.
Jack
Six months later
“Mum, I’m fine. I promise.” I cradle the phone between my ear and my shoulder as I pick Jacob’s toys up off the sitting room floor. Crossing the room, I toss them into his toy box.
“You sound exhausted. Why don’t you let me and your dad take Jacob this weekend? You can have a break.”
“I’m good, Mum. I like him with me.” She sighs down the phone and I know she’s worried about me. “Why don’t you and Dad come over tomorrow? Maybe you could keep him occupied for an hour while I get on top of the laundry?”
“That’s not exactly what I had in mind, Jack. Surely the laundry can wait?”
“I’m a single dad with a two-year-old,” I tell her with a chuckle. “There’s always laundry to do.”
“I guess so,” she replies. “We’ll see you Saturday, then. We can take him to the petting zoo. Give Jacob a kiss from his nanny.”
“Will do. Say hi to Dad for me.” Ending the call, I throw my phone on the sofa and pick up the rest of the toys that are strewn across the floor. It’s Friday, and my day off. Since Zara left, work has been amazing with letting me adjust my hours. I work out of the office Monday to Thursday, and I normally manage a couple of hours from home on a Friday when Jacob naps. So far, it works great. My parents live a little far away to help out with Jacob in the week. Instead, he’s in nursery. It’s hard work, but I love being Jacob’s daddy. We haven’t heard from Zara since she walked out six months ago, and that’s fine with me. I like it being the two of us.
After tidying the sitting room, I creep upstairs and check in on Jacob. I put him down half an hour ago, but he was awake when I came downstairs and I want to check he’s fallen asleep. Peeking around his door, I smile as I see him fast asleep, cuddled up to his favorite blue rabbit teddy. He’s kicked his blankets off, so I cross the room and cover him up, kissing his head softly. He smells of baby powder and no-tears shampoo following his bath earlier, and I breathe in his smell, my heart swelling with love for him. How Zara can’t want him, I’ll never understand.
Half an hour later, I’m sitting on the sofa, a bottle of Bud in my hand. Liverpool and Arsenal are playing on the TV, but I’m too tired to concentrate on watching it. I drop my head back on the sofa and close my eyes. I’ve just nodded off when my phone rings. Groaning, I sit up and reach for it. Seeing Libby’s name flashing across the screen, I smile.
“Hey, little sister. How are you?” I say, answering her call.
“I’m great thanks, Jack. How are you? How’s that gorgeous nephew of mine?”
“He’s good, Lib. Really good. How are you feeling? Not long left now?” Libby is almost eight months pregnant with her first child, and I couldn’t be happier for her and her husband, Mason.
“Tired, but Mason’s taking good care of me. You haven’t sent me any pictures of Jacob in ages. I miss him.”
“Lib, I sent you some last week,” I tell her, chuckling.
“That was ages ago. He’s changing so much. I don’t want to miss anything.”
“I’ll take some and send you them in the morning. Okay?”
“Okay. Thanks.” She pauses, and the line goes quiet. “So, I spoke to Mum.” I roll my eyes and groan inwardly. “She’s worried about you.”
“I’m fine.”