The worst part is I can’t seem to find the words to tell her it’s not happening because each time I try, she brings up the baby, and the endless cycle of self-doubt starts all over again. I know she was expecting a ring to be under the tree or in her stocking, but there wasn’t one. She hid her disappointment well though, more than I can say for myself.
I don’t want to marry Dessie or even be the father of her baby, but I don’t have a choice. The old adage is “stupidity doesn’t get you far” but I can attest it does. Stupidity gets you so far up shit creek there’s no amount of paddling to get you where you need to be.
The conversation I had with my dads has been nagging me for days. They’ve both tried to show me I could still be a part of the baby’s life without being married to Dessie, but I don’t see how. She lives in Portland because of me, choosing to travel back and forth for her shoots. She’s better off in California or New York, which means she’d move and take the baby with her. Marriage keeps her in the same house, but I’m not sure how this would be fair to her. A loveless marriage isn’t something either of us wants, and despite what she says, if she loved me, she’d see the turmoil I’m going through.
I look down at my phone, rereading the words I have memorized over and over again. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. I don’t want you here. Except that’s exactly where I want to be. With Peyton, helping her recover. Not here, in my parents’ home, hiding out because I’m too afraid of what might happen back in Portland. I’m using them as a buffer and they know it.
My dad walks into the family room and turns the television on. As luck would have it, there’s a game and it seems like he’s poised to watch it. I’m so pissed at myself for the way my season ended. Even if we didn’t stand a chance at the wild card, getting benched for the last game of the season is a blow to my ego. It would be one thing if Coach was trying to save me for next year, but he wasn’t. He was sending a message that he’s done with my piss poor attitude. I half expect him to call me in after the first of the year and give me my walking papers.
“Daddy,” Little B whines out his name. “We’re trying to plan a wedding here.”
I look away, not wanting to be a part of this conversation.
“Then go to the dining room or your bedroom.”
“Daddy.”
“Betty Paige, I want to watch the game. I’m sorry if it interrupts your play time, but you can go play make-believe somewhere else.”
My dad’s words are harsh, making me wish I could tell Dessie the same thing. By the time I glance over at her and Little B, they’re gathering their books and leaving the room. Dessie stops in front of me. “Are you coming?”
I shake my head, which causes her to huff. The last thing I want to do is sit in a room and listen to them prattle on about wedding stuff. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I want to get on a plane and fly to California to see Peyton, and maybe I should. She may be able to offer a little clarity and guidance on what I should do. If she agrees to see me, that is.
“Dessie, wait,” I say as I get up. She’s halfway up the stairs with Paige. “I have to head back for a meeting. Do you want to come or stay here?” The lie falls too easily.
She smiles widely. “I’ll stay. I have a lot of preparations to do.” Dessie gives me a little finger wave and continues on her way up the stairs. I wait until she’s out of sight before I go to speak with my father. He’s not exactly pleased because he’s going to have to be the one to tell my mom I left Dessie here.
The Powell-James condo looms in front of me. The wrought iron gate is locked and the code I used to use when we were all younger no longer works. I have no choice but to either access them from the beach or press the buzzer. The problem with walking along a private beach is someone is likely to see me and alert the authorities. Most of the neighbors around here know and look out for each other. The issue with being buzzed in though is the chance that Peyton is the one to answer the call and I have no doubt she’ll tell me to go away.