Page 104 of Cockpit
My laugh must have sounded so ridiculous to her, but it was all I could give above Luke’s crying. “I know we’re young and don’t have much, Claire, but—”
“That’s exactly it. We don’t have anything!” she shouted, and I paused in the bounce, bounce, shift rhythm that usually calmed Luke.
“Your parents got to you again, didn’t they?” I shake my head and try to move toward her without upsetting Luke, but she won’t look at me. “This is all we need, Claire. Us. Luke.”
“I need more than that.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but every single syllable was like a nail being driven into my heart. It was then that I knew . . . I knew they had won. I knew she had gotten drunk so she’d have the courage to tell me. I knew she was leaving.
I knew, in her mind, she’d already left.
Luke started crying again. I wanted to put him down so I could beg and plead with her, but I couldn’t do that to him. I couldn’t abandon him when I already knew one parent was going to.
“Claire-bear—”
“Don’t.” Her hand came up as she squeezed her eyes closed for a second. “Fuck. Don’t call me that.”
“Don’t you love me? Don’t you love us?” Fear was all I could hear in my own voice. Fear rioted in my veins. “Don’t you love him?”
“I just don’t know anymore.”
“Yes, you do!” My shout was loud enough that the windows in our tiny apartment rattled as my chest constricted. I couldn’t seem to breathe.
“I’ll have my attorney draft up something—”
“You mean your parents’ attorney.”
“Yes.” Still no eye contact. Still absolutely zero acknowledgment of our son.
“You’ve told them to fuck off a million times. Rebelled when you dated me because I wasn’t part of your cotillion bullshit. What’s so different now? What changed?” Confusion owned every part of me.
“There’s a way to give up all my rights. It’s called voluntary relinquishment of rights.”
“You know the term?” I shout. “You’ve already done it, haven’t you?”
“I’ll sign the paperwork so you don’t ever have to worry about me coming back for him.” Her voice . . . God, her fucking voice was so devoid of emotion it made me want to scream and give up at the same time. The Hoskins’ brainwashing had finally worked.
“How can you do this? Look at him! Look. At. Him.” She lifted her eyes and took him in, her bottom lip quivering before she stared me dead in the eyes.
“It’s the money, isn’t it?”
“It’s a lot of things, Gray.”
“They finally threatened your trust fund?” Her lack of an answer was the only answer I needed. Fear turned to anger. Anger to rage. Rage to hysteria. “Get the fuck out! Our son—MY SON is worth more than any goddamn bank account.”
The first tear leaked over her eyelashes and slid along the mascara track that was already on her cheek. She had cried for someone else but could barely muster a fucking tear for us. She didn’t bother to brush it away. She just stared at me with regret and a sadness that to this day, I have never been able to fathom. How could money be more important than your own flesh and blood?
“One of these days, Claire, you’re going to look in the mirror and realize you’re a selfish piece of shit. You’re going to want to know my son. Don’t bother knocking on that door because I’d rather die than let you see what an incredible person he’s going to be. I’ll make damn sure of it.”
She didn’t react. Didn’t fucking care.
All I know is that when she turned her back and left without so much as a second glance at her son, I cried more than he did that night. And for more nights than I cared to remember, I fell asleep in a bed she bought, under a comforter she selected, beside a son who had eyes shaped just like hers.
When I look away from where I’d zoned out staring at my coffee, Desi is making faces and Luke is falling backward giggling like a loon, clutching his sides and gasping for breath. I know we’re better off without Claire’s selfishness. I know she would not have stayed trapped in this life of runny noses and little league games. She wouldn’t have given up a single piece of herself to make someone better. I know I would be worrying eve
ry single day that she was going to give in to the temptation of her parents and their house high up on the hill above the vineyards.
I know we’re better off for it, but fuck if it still doesn’t sting.
Fuck you, Claire.
