Holding out the cash with my arm fully extended, I keep him at a distance.
“I don’t want your money, Mags,” Robert answers simply, slipping his hands into his pockets, refusing to accept it.
“There’s no reason for you to let me stay here for free.” How can I look at him, a man who’s got it all, a man I feel like I betrayed, a man I lied to, and not feel inferior? It’s all I’ve felt for nearly a year, but I hate him for making me feel this way all over again, simply by standing in front of me, not taking the money I owe him.
“You lie,” he tells me, and my entire body goes hot.
“I’m not a liar.”
“You said there’s no way she’s mine,” he says and his voice is tight.
With my lips pressed in a thin line, they tremble.
“She looks like me,” he reasons.
“I have a type,” I answer him, turning to face the kitchen counter and giving him nothing but my back. I reach for my tea, desperate to steady myself even though my hands shake. I wish Renee were here. She’s helped me keep it together. She reminds me why Robert and I are a bad idea.
“We were together right around when—”
“You didn’t ask for a baby, and you know … you know she’s not yours.” My voice breaks at the last little bit. I know deep in my soul she isn’t his daughter. She was an accident and a handsome man named Brody is her father. He’s the other half of that accident and all I have is a first name, so he’s practically a stranger.
“You didn’t do a test. You can’t know for sure.”
“Fine,” I say, giving in, “we can do a—”
“No.” He’s quick to shut down the very thing he just brought up. “We don’t need to …” I turn back to face him as he continues, focusing on taking one breath in, then one breath out. “You’re going through a lot, and I know … you don’t want me to be her father.”
I wipe under my eyes, feeling both exhaustion and confusion overwhelming me. “What do you want, Robert?” I ask him, truly wanting an answer.
“Do you want to go to the drive-in this Friday?”
Is he asking me out? I can only stare back at him, not understanding. He can’t be serious. I’ve done everything I can to push this man away since I’ve come home. I have a full plate and I’m barely holding on. A date? He is insane.
“You’re a glutton for punishment,” is all I can manage as a response.
“Don’t say that,” he replies with far too much compassion, his brow softening as he tilts his head slightly. Time slips away, the cash sitting in my palm feeling like it’s burning my hand.
“There’s not an ounce of desire in me to do anything other than sleep,” I answer him honestly. “Can you please just take the money?”
“Mags,” he says and his voice is pleading. “You can use that money for a sitter, or—”
“Take the rent, Robert.” The second I raise my voice I hunch my shoulders and peek down the hall, then back to the monitor. Please, please don’t wake up, baby girl.
“I know you’re mad,” Robert starts and his voice drones on, but I can barely focus.
Yes, I’m mad. More than mad, even. I’m full of resentment that my father screwed over this town and left me to pick up the pieces. I’m upset I couldn’t be happy about this pregnancy without knowing how I was going to care for her. I had to hide it from this town for as long as I could so they wouldn’t add that on top of the judgment I already had coming my way. Robert changed when he found out my secret. He was fine with me pushing him away until he thought I was pregnant with his baby. He doesn’t love me. At least that’s what I’ve told myself for months, reminding myself of that phone call when he threw away what we had for no good reason. It took less than five minutes and then everything was different between us.
It’s just a knight in shining armor complex that made him help me.
With the hormones and stress from the pregnancy, I don’t need more problems added into the mix. Not to mention the heartbreak of navigating motherhood without my own mother here to teach me.
I don’t even realize he’s done saying whatever it is that he’s saying until I recognize a sound that’s been absent in this place all day: silence.
“It’s your money, Robert, please just—”
“I don’t want it, Mags.” His voice is firm and I snap.
“Take it.” I can barely breathe as tears prick the back of my eyes, and I shove the stack of twenties into his chest. “Take it and leave.”
With the cash pressed against his front, his hands raise. As I pull away, he has to catch the falling money. “I don’t want it.”
“I’m not going on a date with you to stay here.”
“You don’t have to—”
I threaten something I pray won’t happen. “If you won’t let me pay you, then I’ll go somewhere else.” I can’t afford anywhere else. I know that much and just speaking those words makes me feel sick. Six hundred is a bargain and I’m more than aware of that. “I’m not a whore,” I add, barely getting out the words, hating myself. Hating the way Robert thought I’d just be with him again because of the mess I’m in.
I’ve never felt so low in my life.
“I didn’t say you were.” Robert’s voice is deadpan as I stare into his baby blue eyes, feeling my own itch with a tiredness that hasn’t left me in months.
“You didn’t have to,” I comment sincerely. That gets a reaction from him.
Tossing the money in the trash, Robert holds back from voicing whatever’s on his mind. He’s good at that, at not responding in anger. He’s never called me a name, never yelled at me, but it still hurt when we’d fight, because he could walk away silently. He told me once he didn’t want to say something he’d regret. I’ve said far too much that I regret, and I’ve barely lived. Still, I can’t stand it, knowing he’s biting his tongue.
With both of my palms on the counter, I stare at the trash can and listen to him practically storm out, apart from slamming the door. He saves me from that fear. When the door closes with a soft thud, so do my eyes. I’m grateful he didn’t slam it and that Bridget is still asleep. Or at least she isn’t crying. Anxiously, I pick up the baby monitor on the counter, staring at the black and white image of my baby girl. Everything happens for a reason, I remind myself and hear my mother’s voice: it’ll be all right, baby girl. Fresh, warm tears spill out the corners of my eyes, and I can’t hold them back this time.
I’m busy whispering the same words to the monitor when the sound of the front door opening forces me to whip around. I don’t expect to see an upset Robert striding back in. He rips the lid off the trash can and reaches in, pulling out the cash that’s now dirtied with old breast milk and Lord knows what else I threw in there earlier today.
Even with his face scrunched in disgust, he picks out every bill as I stare in shock. “I’m not going to make you pick it out of the trash,” he comments, his voice even but low. Wiping under my eyes I watch his face turn sour as he asks, “What the hell is this?”