Eddie
Both of them look over at me, and it doesn’t take long for the pieces to click into place. From the corner of my eye, I see the business-suit lady—their lawyer, I assume—tuck her phone away, her eyes wide.
I rest a shaking hand on the wall and repeat the words again. “I’m…I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the parents flying from Seattle and…I didn’t know. I’m just—” I release a shaky breath and look at Mason. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
No one says anything. I touch my forehead to the glass and wait for this ache to leave my chest. What am I doing? Why would I take that baby from this family with grandparents and—
The woman takes a step in my direction. “Maybe…maybe we can work out something…”
“Eddie,” Sam says from behind me. His voice is sharp and direct. “Let’s go back to the waiting room.”
“Wait,” the woman says, her eyes pleading with me. My own mother would never fight for me like this. “Just give us five minutes—”
“Eddie,” Sam says, and I peel my eyes from them and follow him. When we get to the waiting room, he points to a chair and orders me to sit. “You can’t talk to them.”
I don’t want to fall apart. Not here. Not now. I press my thumbs against my eyelids, ordering them to stay dry. Then I look up at Sam. “What am I doing? I can’t do this. I can’t give any kid what they can.”
Three point two million dollars won’t buy Mason that life. One with generations of love.
Sam rolls forward and grips both of my arms. “Look at me.”
I do.
“Those people are desperate for a baby. They can’t help you make this choice. You have to figure this out yourself.”
“I just don’t want to be my father.” I shake my head. “I have to be better than him. Or else, I’ve got nothing.”
“So be better than him,” Sam says.
“But he deserves that family or one like them,” I admit though it kills me.
“I don’t mean be a better parent than him, Eddie. Be a better person. Do something with your life that says ‘Fuck you. I’m not you.’ You don’t have to raise a kid at eighteen years old to prove you’re not him.”
I nod, but I’m still not sure I can just… Fuck. I don’t know.
“Turn all of it off,” Sam tells me. “All those other people you’re listening to right now. Screw them. It’s just you and what you want. What will make you happy? Knowing that baby is with you, or knowing he’s happy?”
I nod again, too afraid my voice will shake if I talk.
“Whatever you decide, you have to make peace with it,” Sam says. “You have to think it and not feel that ache, that feeling of guilt or regret. Choose whatever does that for you, okay? You have your whole life to be a father to someone. And you can be a great one. Now, or it doesn’t have to be right now.”
“I’ll never see him again?”
“You can see him,” a woman’s voice says. “You can see him whenever you want.”
Sam holds up a hand, stopping them from coming closer.
The lawyer tries to get the woman to leave. “Mrs. Kingsley, we should discuss this privately—”
Sam gives them a pointed look. “Good idea.”
“But if we can just talk about it together,” the woman argues.
The lawyer steps in front of her. “He can’t authorize anything. He’s not the one who created the adoption terms.”
“But he’s the father,” the man says. “He has a say in this.”
I look at them, grateful for their offering me the choice. “She’s right. I don’t really have a say.”
“Maybe on paper you don’t,” the guy says. “But to us, you do.”
“I think adoptive parents manipulating a birth parent is frowned upon in family court,” Sam tells them.
Both of them clamp their mouths shut, their eyes wide with fear. I appreciate Sam’s help. I do. But they didn’t mean to manipulate me. They’re honest people. My whole life has been about contracts and policies and how to get around the rules. My parents couldn’t even trust Caroline to keep my identity a secret. She knew I was the father, and she still couldn’t just say that so we wouldn’t need the court-ordered paternity test. I’m so sick of that shit.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I want to talk to them.”
“Eddie,” Sam starts at the same time as their lawyer tries to get them out of here.
I look at Sam. “I’ve got nothing to lose talking to them.”
With a sigh, he concedes, and they politely tell their lawyer to get lost. When they sit down across from me, I try to study them enough to see hidden flaws, parts of their lives that are ugly.
“Caroli—” I start to say Caroline and then remember that they don’t know who she is and they aren’t supposed to. “Mason’s mother isn’t going to change the terms. She’s…she’s just not.”
They look at each other, and then the man speaks up. “We don’t need a contract to tell you that you can see your son. Anytime you want.”
“You have our word,” the woman adds.
Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes. I fight them off again. I can already see Mason with them. I can see them hanging pictures of him on the wall, taking him to swim meets. I want to hate these thoughts, to banish them, but I don’t. It feels right. I think this is what Sam meant when he said I need to be at peace with it.
Call me the most crazy naive businessperson ever, but I believe them. I believe they mean it. I can see him. I don’t have to say good-bye forever. Caroline might need it to be all or nothing—she has plans, and she knows who she is. I don’t know any of that yet. I just know that I created someone, and I want to see how he turns out. I want that more than almost anything else.
I wipe my face with the bottom of my T-shirt. “Okay.”
“Okay?” they both say, confused.
“Okay, I’ll take your word.”
Sam opens his mouth to say something, but I shake my head. I stand up. I have to get out of here. “You don’t have to call him Mason if you don’t want to.”
That’s the last thing I say before tearing out of there in search of someplace where there aren’t any people.