Page 170 of You've Got Hate Mail
“I knew what to do. I know how to take care of people. But I—we got married because she was pregnant and she said it was the right thing to do, and I did love her, but I always thought—I always felt like she thought I trapped her. And now—now I feel like I’m raising Lav in ways she wouldn’t have liked.”
He tugs at his collar, a deep blush spreading up his neck, his eyes darting everywhere but at me.
“She wouldn’t have wanted Lav to know she’s loved and safe?” I ask softly.
“No, she would’ve, but it—” He cuts himself off with a sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Ava struggled hardcore with postpartum depression, but she also insisted we’d break Lav if she didn’t breastfeed and then if we didn’t make all of her food from scratch instead of giving her grocery store baby food. Anytime I’d point out thatIwasn’t breastfed, andIhad store-bought baby food, I’d just—I’d feel like she—never mind.”
“Like she what?” I press.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Like she agreed with her parents that I should’ve gone back to school to do something bigger than being an EMT.”
“Heath,” I whisper.
“And god forbid I miss the hamper once in a while, or that I was late getting home because of an accident at the end of a shift, or that my buddies drank the wrong kind of beer when they came over to watch a game with me. I just—I couldn’t ever do anythingright.”
“Even when you were taking care of her when she was sick?”
He squeezes his eyes shut and swipes a hand down his face. “Never mind. Forget it. Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead and all that. And she’s still Lav’s mom.”
“But you get to have your needs met too,” I say. God knows I’ve learned that myself, being here at Makepeace.
He shakes his head. “I meet my needs.”
Oh, this man.
He truly is carrying the weight of the world.
“Is that why you don’t date?” I ask.
He snorts out a humorless laugh. “Some of it.”
“What’s the rest?”
He glances up at me, then back down at his burger. “If I can’t set the kind of example for Lav that my parents set for me, then I don’t want to let her see me with a woman at all.”
I take a bite of cheesecake and chew slowly while he pokes at his fries.
“So if you want to go home—” he starts, but I cut him off.
“Why would I want to go home instead of staying here with one of my favorite friends, letting him talk about what’s on his mind the way he’s let me talk out what’s been on my mind for the past month?”
He swipes his hand over his face again and doesn’t answer.
“Ah. The double standard you hold yourself to,” I murmur. “I see.”
“It’s not a double standard.”
“No matter what you do with your dating life, you’re giving Lav a wonderful childhood within the circumstances life handed you. She knows she’s loved. She has space to explore her imagination and the world. She’s learning how to raise a pet and do the dishes. She has experience embracing new people in her life and then saying goodbye to them when they move on.”
“She makes it easy,” he says.
“No, she doesn’t. She’s a six-year-old girl with zero fear and a huge imagination and a streak of mischief too. Yes, parts of her are easy, but don’t lie to yourself and say it’s all easy.”
He tugs his collar.
“Whether you date or not, your daughter will grow up. Whether you date or not, she’ll have good memories of childhood. Whether you date or not, she’ll understand one day exactly how much you sacrificed and how hard you worked to give her your best every day. If you don’t want to date me, that’s fine. I’m a lot too, and I like me this way. But I wouldn’t be your friend if I didn’t point out that you get to try things that might make you happy.”
“And we’re back toI was a shitty husband.”
