I wanted to marry Jessica. I mean, it’s not like I bought her a ring, but I saw her fitting into my world. My mother liked her; Jessica loved me. It was so easy. But, when I found out she had an abortion and didn’t even bother telling me she was pregnant, I lost it. I at least wanted a say with my child.
Then Olivia came back. She came back, dancing like a siren. I knew exactly what she was doing the night she came to my frat house and cocked her finger at me from the dance floor. If she hadn’t come to me, I would have gone to her. Forget all you know — I said to myself. This is the one you belong with. I don’t know how I knew that. Maybe our souls touched underneath that tree. Maybe I decided to love her. Maybe love wasn’t our choice. But when I looked at that woman, I saw myself differently. And it wasn’t in a good light. Not a thing would keep me from her. And that could make a person do things they never thought themselves capable of. What I felt for her scared the hell out of me. It was a consuming obsession.
In truth, I’d barely touched on the obsession. That was still coming.
“Pass the butter, please.”
Damn.
I pass her the butter, but not before I assess the density of that request. When you’re passing a woman butter across the table, you’re in something serious. I grab her tanned arm as she reaches for it and kiss the inside of her wrist. She smells like clean linen. She smiles at me — she’s always smiling. She has dimples; the deeper she smiles, the deeper they cut. Jessica and I don’t officially live together, but we alternate between each other’s places. Mostly we are here, but that’s because I like my own bed. I watch her butter her toast while she plays on her iPad. We have a nice little thing going on. I still feel like a barren wasteland on the inside, but she makes it better.
“Pass the salt, please.” I test this out. See how it feels. She passes the saltshaker without looking up, and I frown. Everyone knows you don’t pass the salt without the pepper. They’re a pair. Even if someone only asks for one. You pass both. Now I’m going to have to break up with her.
Kidding.
We get ready for work and kiss at the bottom of the elevator.
“Caleb,” she says, as I’m walking away.
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
Wow. Okay.
“Jess,” I say. “I-”
“You don’t have to say it back,” she smiles, “I just want you to know.”
“All right,” I say, slowly. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”
She nods.
Eight months, one week, that’s how long it has been since she spent the night at my place for the first time. Acissej — it doesn’t really roll off the tongue like some of them do. What she just said feels strange, but I can’t pinpoint why. Maybe it’s time to move in together. I climb into my car and put the AC on full blast. She likes my facial hair. Leah wouldn’t tolerate facial hair. She said it chaffed her face. When she used the word “chaffed” I wanted to divorce her. Or maybe I just always wanted to divorce her. When I think about Leah, I feel sick. Not because of her — she has very little power over me anymore. It’s that little girl.
I pull my thoughts away from that. When I get to work, my mother is at the office, visiting Steve.
“He’s never home anymore, and you hardly come to visit,” she says, hugging me. “I have to come here to see my two boys.”
She doesn’t mention my brother. She’s just as pissed at him as I am for sleeping with my ex-wife. Leah dropped that little bomb on me the same night she told me I wasn’t a father. I’d be lying if I hadn’t thought a million times over that Estella might be his. That hurts the most.
“How’s Jessica?” my mother asks.
I half smile and sort through the papers on my desk. She has taken a seat in my office, so I know she’s here to chat. If I don’t give her something, she won’t go away.
“She told me she loved me this morning.”
“Well, did you say it back?”
“No.”
She’s quiet for a few minutes.
“I really liked Leah,” she says. “When you lost your memory, she really just stuck with you. As a mother, I appreciated that.” She sighs. “But, I know you still love that girl.”
My turn to sigh.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to talk about it. So talk about something else. How are your roses?”
“Don’t even,” she says. “Jessica is great, Caleb. Really, she is. But, she wants a commitment. You do know that, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to be married again? Have … children?”
I flinch.
“Not really.”
“You can’t let one woman steal who you are.”
I appreciate my mother, I do. But, she has no idea what she’s talking about. My heart is still broken. I’m trying to figure out how to live without what I really want. That includes letting go of old dreams and making some new ones. I think, anyway.
“I don’t want those things anymore,” I say firmly.
“I saw Estella.”
I freeze.
“What?”
“At the mall. I ran into Leah and she was with her.”
I’m quiet. I don’t know what to say. How is she? Was she talking? What does she look like?
I run a hand across the back of my neck and stare at the armrest on her chair.
“She was my granddaughter. I love her.” Her voice drops off at the end, and for the first time, I consider my mother’s feelings in all of this. She lost Estella too.
“She’s yours, Caleb. I feel it.”
“Mother, stop it…”
“No, I won’t. You get a paternity test. There is something not right.”
I stop what I’m doing and sit down. “Why would she lie to me about that? She loses child support, babysitting, and claim on me, by lying.”
“Oh, Caleb. Leah is the type of girl who values revenge more than practicality.”
I get goose bumps. Honest to God.
I shake my head. “You want that to be true. I do too. But, it’s not. There is a good chance she is your grandchild. Talk to your son.”
She pulls her mouth tight. It makes her look older.
“Just think about it,” she says. “If she refuses, you can get the court to order one.” She leans forward. “Caleb, she has your nose.”
“Fuck. Okay, we’re done here.” I never curse in front of her. I stand up and walk her to the door. Before I push her out, I kiss her on the cheek. “You’re a good mother. But, I’m a grown up. Go meddle in Seth’s life.”
She smiles, pats my cheek and looks more worried than before.
“Goodbye, my son.”
I had her. It wasn’t a firm grip, but I finally had her. We fell into a relationship easily. The day-to-day routine was light and airy. We played, we kissed, we talked for hours about things that mattered and things that didn’t. I could never predict what she was going to say next. I liked that. She was so different from the girls I was used to. Even Jessica — who was the closest thing I’d come to falling in love — had never elicited the feelings from me that Olivia did.