Before We Were Strangers (27 page)

“Honestly, my mom always spoke pretty highly of you, but the story of your relationship was presented like a cautionary tale or something. A lesson for me to learn from. She
didn’t blame you, even before she discovered the truth, so I didn’t think much of anything—just that you had a crazy career and kids weren’t your thing.”

I stared past her out the window. “I wanted kids. . . .”

“My mom didn’t know, so you shouldn’t blame her. She would always tell me how badly she wanted me. She told me that when people come together and . . . you know . . . do it”—her cheeks turned pink—“that they should always be on the same page about kids and the future and all that. I guess she thought you knew from the letters and that you didn’t want to be a dad.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“I meant it when I say she never put you down. I’m smart enough to know it’s because part of me is made from you; she’d be putting me down at the same time if she did that.”

I was experiencing every feeling one could have at the same time, including love. I was feeling love for the sweet child sitting in front of me, defending me and defending her mom, equally, with such loyalty and insight. “You’re very smart.” My throat tightened. “You’re like your mom in that way. Very perceptive and witty.” I collected myself. “And your childhood . . . how was it?”

“It was pretty good. I mean, my dad totally loved me and my mom always did her best. I had everything I needed.” She sipped her coffee.

“What’s your last name?”

“Porter.”

I felt a lump in my throat. “Of course.”

“It was just easier that way. You’re on my birth certificate, though.”

“Am I?”

“Uh-huh. My dad tried to adopt me, like, five times. That’s why, at the end of his life, Mom tried so hard to get in touch with you; you would’ve had to give up your parental rights in order for him to officially adopt me. It didn’t matter because he was always my dad. That piece of paper would have meant more for him than for me.”

“I’m so sorry, Ash. I didn’t know. I can’t tell you how sorry I am.” She started to get a little misty-eyed but held it together. I was close to having a breakdown myself and felt conflicted about everything, including Dan. He was dead already so I couldn’t kill him, but somewhere under the shock, I started to realize I should be grateful for him. After all, he raised my daughter into someone I would admire instantly.

Ash took a bite of her scone, smiled, and looked out the window as she chewed. It was like I was looking at Grace from a long time ago, but with my eye color and a tiny cleft in her chin, just like me, barely noticeable.

“Do you have any crooked toes?”

“Yeah, actually. My second toe is crooked. Thanks for that, by the way.” We both laughed, but then we got quiet again.

“What was he like?”

“Who?”

“Your dad.”

She looked me right in eyes, so brave, like her mom. “You’re my dad now . . . if you want.”

That was it. I started crying. I wasn’t sobbing, but there were tears running down my face, and my throat was so tight that I thought I would stop breathing. I reached across the
table, took her hands in mine, and closed my eyes. I realized that I wanted Ash in my life. The pain of missing her childhood was killing me. “Yes, I want to,” I whispered.

She started crying, too. We both cried together, surrendering to the reality that we had to accept. No one could change the past or give us back the time we had lost, and there were no words to make everything better. We just had to accept the present for what it was.

We stood and hugged for a long time, and I was surprised that it didn’t feel foreign to me; she didn’t feel like a stranger.

There were a few stares from café patrons, but eventually everyone ignored us and went on with their conversations as I held my crying daughter. Gotta love that about New Yorkers. I felt bad for how things had worked out with Ash’s childhood, but I was still intensely furious with Grace and Elizabeth.

On our way back to Grace and Ash’s brownstone, she asked, “What’s going to happen with you and Mom?”

“There’s a complicated history there, Ash. I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“She loves you.”

“I know.”

Once we reached the brownstone, she pulled her phone from her pocket. “What’s your phone number? I’ll text you so you have mine. You can call me if you want to hang out.”

I gave her my number. “You know, I don’t just want to ‘hang out.’ I want to be a part of your life. It’ll be weird at first, but I want this . . . if you do.”

She grinned and socked me in the arm, “Alrighty, I’ll see ya later then . . . um . . . what should I call you?”

“Call me anything you want.”

She laughed. “Okay, see ya, George.”

I shook my head. “Silly girl.” I messed up her hair and then noticed Grace was watching us from the window. She looked terrible, and had obviously been crying nonstop. She was wearing a sad, small smile. I looked away.

“How about I call you Father for now . . . since you are my father.”

“That’s fine with me. Do you want to get breakfast tomorrow?” I didn’t want to be away from her ever again.

“I can’t, I’m going shopping with my friend.”

“Okay, what about the next day?”

“School, and then I have chess club.”

“Chess club?” I arched my eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s my goal in life to beat Mom. She’s so good.”

“Okay then.” I was starting to wonder if there was really room for me to step into her life.

“Dinner on Tuesday?” she asked.

“Perfect,” I said. “Wear your pajamas. I know a great place.”

“You’re weird.”

“You are, too.”

“Cool.”

I walked home, hoping, sadly, that Grace would be able to stop crying.

I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do except try to get to know Ash while I was in New York and be a dad, even though I knew nothing about what that entailed.

On Monday, I went to the library and read every parenting book I could get my hands on.

I texted Grace that night.

ME:
I’m trying to wrap my head around all of it.

GRACE:
I understand.

ME:
I’m going to see Ash on Tuesday night for dinner.

GRACE:
Okay.

ME:
I want to see her regularly.

GRACE:
Of course.

ME:
Does she have a college fund?

GRACE:
Yes.

ME:
Can I give you some money?

GRACE:
That’s not necessary.

ME:
I want to.

GRACE:
Okay then. You can put it in her college fund. I’ll get the account info for you.

A part of me wanted to say more, but I wasn’t capable of talking to her about anything beyond the logistics of coparenting.

The next day I was slammed with work stuff but I managed to get out and have lunch with Scott. When he started talking about Singapore, I told him about Ash. He didn’t say anything; he was just shocked. He told me to take the rest of the week off. I didn’t realize I really needed to until that moment.

When I returned to my building, I found Monica sitting on a bench near the elevator. She had the family bassinet balanced on her lap.

Her eyes were full of compassion, but her nostrils were flared and her jaw was set in a rigid line.

“Monica, don’t say it.”

“I was going to stab her in the eye with my heel.” I looked
down at her five-inch stilettos.
Yep, those would get the job done
. “I’m so sorry, Matt. Alexander’s in Tokyo, otherwise he’d be here. I came in his place.”

“Thank you, Monica. I see you paid Elizabeth a little visit. You didn’t actually hurt her, did you?”

“Of course not, but I did give her a piece of my mind. I wasn’t gonna let her off that easy.” She pointed her long index finger at me. “That woman took a shit inside the soul of this family.”

“I know.” I had already resigned myself to that reality, but I could tell Monica was still fighting it, or at least trying to figure out how to fix it. “It is what it is. I just have to try to be a part of my daughter’s life from here on out.” I nodded my head toward the door. “Take a walk with me?”

She hiked her large Gucci bag over her shoulder and picked up the bassinet. “Can we stop by Grace’s?”

“You’re going to give that to Grace?”

“Of course. As a gesture of apology for that wretched Elizabeth.”

“I don’t know if she’s home, but we can go by there and see. Here, I’ll carry it.” I took the bassinet from her hands and looked at the ornate wooden legs and fading varnish and wondered what Ash would have looked like as a baby sleeping inside, peacefully.

As Monica’s heels clacked down the sidewalk beside me, I laughed at the fantasy of her taking her shoes off and throwing them at Elizabeth. “What did you say to her?”

“Oh, I just told her that she was a thief and a liar. She stole something more precious from you than she could ever comprehend. Of course, she denied it and acted like
she knew nothing. I told her I wouldn’t believe anything she said. She is the worst kind of person, Matt. A self-deluded, self-involved bitch.”

“Do you think maybe she didn’t know?”

We got to the corner and waited for the stoplight to turn. Monica sighed and pulled an envelope out of her bag. “She knew something, but she didn’t open the letters from Grace. She threw them away, all except for this one.” She handed me a sealed envelope. “If she was getting a letter every year and going to such great lengths to hide it from you, she must have known Grace was trying to tell you something. I don’t know if she really would’ve kept such a secret from you if she knew what it was, but denial through ignorance isn’t an excuse.”

I set down the bassinet, folded the envelope, and stuck it in my pocket. “You might be right.”

“You’re not gonna read it?”

We were approaching Grace’s building. “I’ll read it. Just not right now. This is it.” I looked up to the front door of the brownstone and then held the bassinet out to her.

“Aren’t you going to come with me?”

“No, Ash isn’t home yet. She’s still at school.”

“You don’t want to see Grace?”

“I can’t, Monica. Just go, I’ll wait here.”

I turned around and watched an old woman walk her dog down the street, but I couldn’t help but hear Grace answer the door. “Monica?”

“Hello, Grace. It’s good to see you. It’s been a long time.”

“Yes it has. You look great. Life has been well for you?” Grace was still being sweet, even under the shittiest of circumstances.

“It has, but it got even better when I learned that I was an aunt.” Monica’s voice didn’t
waver. She was determined to stay strong. “That’s why I’m here, to deliver this to you. I know Ash is a big girl now, but I wanted you to have it until the next baby in the family is born, wherever or whenever that might happen.”

“Thank you.” Grace sounded choked up, but I still couldn’t turn around.

There were a few moments of silence and then Monica said, “Here’s my number. Please keep in touch. I know you tried, and I’m sorry about you and Matt and this whole big mess.”

“I am, too.”

“You’re family now, Grace. Please know that.”

“Okay.”

A few seconds later, Monica was at my side. “Ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Matt, why are you taking this out on her?”

“I missed my daughter’s entire childhood, Monica.”

“But that wasn’t Grace’s fault.”

“I don’t know. It’s confusing and I can’t think about that right now.”

The truth was that I couldn’t face her, knowing that she had spent the last fifteen years raising our child, mostly on her own. And for all of that time, she thought I was just a selfish asshole ignoring her letters and calls.
She had no faith in me.

“I have to stop. My feet are killing me.”

“Well, Jesus, it’s those shoes. They’re unnatural,” I said.

She took them off and shoved them into her bag. “I know; stupid, isn’t it? The things women do in the name of high fashion.”

I put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re all right, you know that? I’m glad my brother married you. Thanks for coming out.”

She kissed me on cheek, “I love you. Now hail me a cab, would ya? I’ve got some shopping to do.”

I flagged down a taxi and opened the door for her. She ducked her head and got in. “I’ll be at the Waldorf Astoria if you need me.”

Back at my loft I opened the envelope.

Dear Matt,

Our daughter is ten today. I said before that I wouldn’t send any more letters, but I have an important reason this time. I’m very sad to tell you that Dan is sick. He’s been having severe heart problems over the last year, and his condition is likely terminal. He so desperately wants to adopt Ash, and I’m writing to ask you if you would please consider signing over your parental rights, as you were named on her birth certificate. Ash is a wonderful child, witty and beautiful, with a great sense of humor. She is the joy of my life. I never blamed you for the choices I made a decade ago
, but now I can change things for her and Dan by making it official with the adoption.

I know you’re very busy, but would you please get in touch with us?

Regards,

Grace Porter

212-555-1156

The life she led, the tragedy, despair, and rejection, was all because of me. I could have blamed Elizabeth, but it wouldn’t matter in the end because Elizabeth meant nothing to Grace. I knew that if you followed the trail of pain, it would lead to me, at least in Grace’s mind, and my pain led to her.

Staring at my phone, a question popped into my head. I shot off a text immediately.

ME:
Why were you looking in the Missed Connections section?

GRACE:
I wasn’t.

ME:
How did you get the note?

GRACE:
A student of mine recognized the title “Green-eyed Lovebird” when he was looking for his own missed connection and brought it to me.