She’s speaking my language and touching my heart. “Exactly. I never thought I’d enjoy being a father so much. I never even thought about it at all. Then it happened, and all I could think was Wow, this must be why I really like being a vet. I love taking care of small creatures, with four or two legs.”
She brings her hand to her heart and swallows roughly, almost as if she’s holding back tears. Then I’m certain she is, since her voice is wobbly as she says, “That is one of the sweetest things anybody has ever said.”
I laugh, feeling the faintest flush in my cheeks, trying to dismiss the compliment. “Nah.”
“Yes, Liam. It truly is.”
I shrug, take another bite, chew, then set down my fork. “But that’s just how it feels. And I look back on the fact that he was alive for nearly seven years and knocking about with his mother and doing all of these things in Florida, and I had no clue. I wish I had a telescope that would show me those times. I wish he could tell me stories about those days, because it feels like this black hole of his life that I will never know and never have access to,” I say, the strength of my own wish powering my voice. I long for that insight into my son, and I’ll never have it. “Maybe that’s why I want every second now to be amazing. I want us to have a great relationship. To care about each other and look out for each other, because I didn’t get to when he was younger.”
She sets a hand on my arm, her palm soft and caring. “Do you regret that? That you missed all that time?”
“I do,” I say heavily, a weight settling in my gut. “But it’s stupid to regret it, since it was never in the cards.”
“Did you ever want something with her? With Ethan’s mom?”
“I didn’t even think about it. It was truly a one-night stand. I met her at a bar in New York City, and we were safe. Used a condom. I didn’t think twice about her or that night, to be honest. That’s what I regret. I wish she’d been someone I wanted more with.” I inhale deeply, then say something I don’t share with anyone. I speak the truest regret. The one that hangs over me. “Mostly, I wish I’d had the chance for more. That she’d made other choices. That she’d given me the option to be his dad for longer. When he was born.” I shake my head, annoyed all over again. “She didn’t give me that opportunity for years, and when she finally did, I couldn’t be angry with her. She was dying.”
“But it’s understandable that you wish things had been different.”
“I would have been there for him. I would have shown up,” I say, frustration welling inside me, but also sadness, since I never had that chance to be a father to an infant, a toddler, a four-year-old. “Now I simply wish that he could tell me stories about what he did when he was four.”
I sound as wistful as I feel, and I try to stave off the melancholy, since this night isn’t about regret. It’s about coming together. But the soft, open look in January’s eyes tells me it’s okay to be frank about my feelings.
“It’s like a blank slate in your past,” she says gently.
“Yes, but on the other hand, I’m also used to looking at the world that way. When my patients come in with a pet they’ve adopted from a rescue, it’s the same way. Sometimes they say things like What do you think Fifi did for the first four months of her life? What did she do for the first year? And I have no way of knowing, and just wonder. I make up stories, and they become part of the narrative for Fifi or Fido.”
Taking another bite of the fruit salad, she’s quiet as she eats. “So Ethan has his own narrative. He has a narrative that you’ll never know, but maybe that’s something the two of you can do someday. Maybe you can invent a story, sit down, and tell your own tale about what those seven years were like. And then you’ll have a narrative you can share.”
My heart thumps harder, pounding powerfully against my chest at that suggestion. It’s both creative and touching. And something I’d love to do. “I love that idea, January. I think that’s kind of beautiful. I could kiss you for that.”
“Don’t let me stop you.”
I don’t. I lean across the table, cup her cheek, and kiss the woman I care deeply for.
More than I intended to.
More than she has room in her life for.
But tell that to my heart.
