I wondered how the man who wrote this letter could seem so different from the man I'd been interacting with, but then I realized that I really hadn't given him much of a chance to interact with me. I'd forced him out of my room at the hospital, and I'd immediately picked a fight with him in his office. I'd definitely seen some of the worst parts of his personality, but I hadn't considered what the rest of him was like. I hated to admit it, but the letter was making me rethink my opinion of him.
He went on to talk about all the reasons it would be good for Makayla to have him in her life. He was direct, explaining the financial support he could offer. It was very hard not to see some of the numbers he'd put in the letter and not be tempted by what I could do for Makayla's future with that kind of money. Of course, he couldn't buy his way into our lives. But after struggling for so long on our own, it was hard to get an offer of help and not have to at least seriously consider it. If not for my sake, then for Makayla's.
Still, I couldn't just let him into our lives like that. I had no idea what kind of father he'd be. He had a temper—I definitely didn't want that around Makayla. He also seemed arrogant and used to getting his way. When I thought about him yelling at Makayla the way he'd yelled at me, I felt a chill and then a rush of anger even at this hypothetical situation. Even the chance that such a situation would happen... It made me feel like tearing the letter to shreds and never contacting him again.
Whenever I thought about actually throwing the letter away, though, I felt guilty. I thought about everything he'd said in the letter, all his earnest apologies and the way he'd opened up to me. I felt bad just dismissing him.
I had no idea what to do.
He'd said that he would wait until I got in touch. So, I put the letter on my dresser and left it there until I figured out what to do, but a week went by and I was still torn.
Finally, I decided that I couldn't make this decision based on a letter alone. I called the number he'd put at the end of the letter. When he answered, I asked him to meet me for coffee.
I picked a spot not too far from Dani's, so I had somewhere to go if it really went south.
When I got there, he was already there. He waved at me from a table by the window. I nodded in acknowledgement and went to get a coffee. As I waited for them to make it, I glanced over. He was looking out the window, fidgeting with his hands. He seemed nervous. The barista handed me my drink. I took a deep breath and made my way over.
"Thank you for meeting me," he said after I sat down. True to his word, his manner was totally different. He actually felt a little apologetic. I wasn't sure what to do with him like this.
"Where do you want to start?" I asked.
"Well, I... I mean, I guess the first thing is, is she really mine?"
"Didn't you see her eyes?" I asked.
"Her eyes?" he said, looking at me quizzically and proving my point. That was exactly what Makayla looked like when she was curious about something.
"Yeah, her eyes. They're yours. Or just like yours, however you want to say it. They're deep and thoughtful, hazel with flecks of gold..." I trailed off because he was staring at me. He raised an eyebrow. It was unnerving. For the last five years, those had been Makayla's eyes alone. And now I had to deal with the reality that they shared them. That he was, inexplicably, a part of her. And therefore, a part of our lives.
"Anyway, yes. She's really yours," I finally said, staring down at my coffee. An awkward silence ensued. I finally looked up, and he was looking away, out the window. For a moment I forgot why I was there, and just stared at him. He was like the lead in a romantic movie, sitting in a coffee shop in beautiful clothes, about to turn and look at his love interest with his deep hazel eyes...
As if he was reading my thoughts, he turned to look at me. When our eyes met, I felt sparks ripple through my body.
Well, I thought,I guess that hasn't changed.Desperate to push away those feelings, I refocused on why we were meeting.
"You wrote about how you felt betrayed, because you didn't know about Makayla," I said. He nodded. I continued, "I truly didn't know where to find you. I thought I'd never see you again. I made the decision to have Makayla knowing I'd probably do it alone, forever. Leaving you out at that point wasn't a plan. It was just a fact. But..." I tried to find the right words. He'd been honest and apologetic in his letter to me. I should try to do the same. "When I recognized you at the hospital, I panicked. And I ran away. That made things worse. I'm sorry." I found myself staring at my coffee again.
"Deira," he said softly. I was surprised at how sweetly he said it. Almost as if he knew me. Almost as if... no, no! Those were fantasies I'd made for myself when I was alone and life was hard. There was no place for them here. But I looked up and his eyes were as soft as his voice. I could have sworn they held affection.
"Thank you for saying that. I said it in the letter, but I'm sorry for how I acted, as well."
For a moment, we just looked at each other. It had been a long time since I had someone look at me, just me, for no reason other than to look at me. It was nice. It was also a little terrifying. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer, and I looked away.
"Are you busy right now?" he suddenly asked. "Do you have some time?"
I did, but I hesitated to admit it. What did he want?
"It's almost lunch time. Let me make you lunch," he said.
"Make me lunch?" What did he mean by that?
"Yeah," he grinned. "I'm pretty good in the kitchen."
"Why would I..."
"You don't know me, right?" he interrupted. "We don't know each other. I get it. Please. Get to know me. We can go to my place, where it's low pressure. I'll make us lunch. It'll be like... bonding."
"Bonding?" I wasn't sure how I felt about that. It sounded permanent.