Chapter 11 - Ben

Hit The Road Jack ~Ray Charles

 

“She’s so beautiful, huh, Ben? I can’t believe we have a daughter.”

“No doubt she’s the most beautiful baby in the world. What am I going to do if she grows up to be as gorgeous as her mother? I’m going to have to fight off all the boys.”

“I think she looks just like you. Did you see the baby pictures your parents brought over? She’s the spitting image of her daddy.”

“Daddy. That’s what she’ll call me one day. I can’t wait until she’s walking and talking. I’m going to take her to the park and the zoo and the library and the local cupcake shop.”

“And I’ll be right there with you. We’re going to spoil this little girl and treat her like the princess that she is. I can’t wait until we see her smile. She’s going to have your expressive smile.”

“Mel, I think you’re wrong. Our little girl will take after you, but of course, love her daddy more.”

“Are you happy, Ben? We’re finally a family.”

“Crazy happy and crazy in love. I’m so glad you convinced me this was the right thing to do. Melody and Alice Howard, I will cherish you, protect you, and give you both the world.”

 

What now? I had no damn clue what to do about our new situation.

We came back from New York soon after Ali’s seizure. She showed no signs of illness after the doctor’s visit and Marni was anxious to get her to our regular pediatrician. Mom, Dad, and Jackie left without fanfare, leaving the three of us to go on with life as usual. The problem was, I didn’t know what life as usual meant anymore. Everything appeared normal: Marni continued to sleep two doors down from me with our daughter as buffer. Work piled higher than Ali’s building blocks. Marni dove into her work and school and Ali was as happy as could be. Judging by her appetite, energy, and attitude, it would shock anyone to learn she was in the ER just a few days ago.

But, I couldn’t ignore the radical changes in our minds, hearts, and attitudes: Our communication drastically halted. Marni and I barely said more than a few civil words to each other inside the home. There was absolutely no communication outside of the home—no texts asking me to stop by the market, no pictures and videos of Ali doing something cute. Our body language spelled awkward. What used to be a seamless tag team every morning and night, we now gave each other a wide berth once I was home. Either Marni cared for Ali or I followed our usual routine. Since the revelation, we no longer fit—emotionally, mentally, or physically.

“Can I talk to you?” Marni asked while quietly knocking on my bedroom door.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” That was a lame answer, but I had nothing better.

“I’ll wait in the family room. Come down when you can.”

What the hell? When had we become this formal? Before the big reveal, we would have sipped beer, chowed on hot wings, and listened to the waves crashing from my balcony.

Rebelling against her “I’ll wait in the family room,” I stayed on my balcony for an inconsiderably long time. Finally, when curiosity got to me, I moseyed to the family room.

“What’s up?” I asked, only to find her cooking in the kitchen instead.

“Since we’re alone, I thought we might discuss plans concerning Ali?”

“What do you mean?”

“The past few days have been painful. Our easy friendship nullified when you learned I was Ali’s mom.” Mar continued to stir-fry something in the pan but couldn’t look me in the eye. “I don’t know if you believe me, but I am sorry you didn’t know. You had every right to know. You have every right to be angry. But, regardless of how you feel, it doesn’t change who I am. Now that my sister isn’t here, and now that everyone who needs to know, knows, I’d like to claim my title as Ali’s mom.”

Once again, what the hell! “Please explain what you mean.”

“I’d like to claim Ali as my daughter.”

“Wasn’t that already done when you chose to use my sperm to conceive our child?” That wasn’t a classy thing to say, but I was pissed again. What kind of claim was she looking to have on Ali? Was she going to take me to court over custody of my daughter? “Did you not feel the least bit invasive, presumptuous, grossed out—I can’t think of the best word for this situation—inserting my sperm into your body without my knowledge or willingness? Since you did all this without my consent, I don’t consider you Ali’s mother. I don’t care about biological proof. In my mind, she is my daughter and you will have no claim on her.”

Marni stopped what she was doing and stood with her back to me, lifeless. I didn’t know I could join such ugly words into a coherent idea. One day, I was going to regret having said any of this to her. Feeling like an asshole and not knowing how to make this better, I left.

Somehow, I needed to change our situation and change it fast. Trouble was, I had no idea where to begin.