Regretting You(40)

The footsteps fade, as if he’s walking away, attempting to avoid his visitor. I start beating on the door, wanting him to know I’m not going away until he opens this door. I’ll go through a window if I have to.

“Jonah!” I yell.

Nothing. I try the doorknob, but it’s locked, so I knock again with my right hand and ring the doorbell with my left. I do this for a full thirty seconds before I hear footsteps again.

The door swings open. Jonah is pulling on a T-shirt. “Give a guy a second to get dressed,” he says.

I push open the door and move past him, entering his house without permission. I haven’t been here since a week before Jenny died. It’s incredible how fast a man can let something go to complete shit.

Not that it’s reached the point of disgusting, but it has definitely reached the point of pathetic. Clothes on the floor. Empty pizza boxes on the counter. Two open chip bags on the couch. As if he’s embarrassed by the state of his house, which he should be, he starts to gather trash and carry it toward the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He steps on the trash can lever, and the lid pops open. I think his plan was to drop the trash into the trash can, but it’s too full for that, so he releases the lever and sets the trash on the kitchen counter with a pile of other trash. “Cleaning,” he says. He takes the lid off the trash can and begins to tie the bag shut.

“You know what I mean. Why has my mother had Elijah since Sunday?”

Jonah pulls the bag of trash out of the can and sets it next to the kitchen door that leads to the garage. He pauses for a moment and looks at me, as if he might actually be honest with his answer. But then he shakes his head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

I am so sick of hearing those words. It’s as if adults assume that being sixteen prevents a person from understanding the English language. I understand enough to know that there’s nothing in the world that should keep a parent from their child. Not even grief.

“Are you even concerned about him?”

Jonah looks offended by my question. “Of course I am.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I’m not in a good place.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Neither is my mother. She lost her husband and her sister.”

Jonah’s response is flat. “I lost my best friend, my fiancée, and my son’s mother.”

“And now your son lost you. That seems fair.”

Jonah sighs, leaning against the counter. He looks down at the floor, and I can tell my being here is making him feel guilty. Good. He deserves to feel guilty. And I’m not even done yet.

“Do you think you’re hurting more than my mother?”

“No,” he says instantly. Convincingly.

“Then why are you putting your responsibilities on her? It’s not like you’re grieving more than she is, and now you’ve dropped your kid off with her, like your grief is more important than what she’s going through.”

Jonah takes in what I’m saying. I can see it sinking in because he looks guilt ridden. He pushes off the counter and turns away from me, like my presence alone is making him feel remorse.

“Elijah rolled over last night,” I say.

Jonah spins around, his eyes darting back to mine. “Did he really?”

I shake my head. “No. But he will soon, and you’re going to miss it.”

Jonah’s jaw hardens. I can see the shift in him seconds before it happens. “What the hell am I doing?” he whispers. He rushes to the dining room table, swiping up a set of car keys. He begins to head for the garage door.

“Where are you going?”

Jonah pauses, then faces me. “To get my son.”

He opens the garage door, but before he leaves, I call after him. “I’ll stay and clean your house for fifty bucks!”

Jonah then walks back through the living room as he pulls his wallet out of his pocket. He takes out two twenties and a ten and hands the three bills to me. Then he does something unexpected. He leans in and gives me a quick kiss on the forehead. When he pulls back, he’s staring at me with an intense expression. “Thank you, Clara.”

I smile and shake the three bills in my hand, but I know he isn’t thanking me for staying to clean his house. He’s thanking me for knocking some sense back into him.





CHAPTER THIRTEEN





MORGAN


I’m in the laundry room, rewashing the few outfits I have of Elijah’s when I hear the front door open and close. Clara must be back from the store with diapers. I’m still crying. Big surprise. I wipe at my eyes before turning on the dryer and heading back into the living room.

When I round the corner, I pause.

Jonah is standing in my living room.

He’s holding Elijah. Cradling him against his chest, kissing him over and over on top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” I hear him whispering. “Daddy is so, so sorry.”

I don’t want to interrupt the moment. It’s heartwarming, which is odd, since I was so full of anger just minutes before. But I can see in Jonah’s expression that he realizes he can’t just walk away from Elijah. No matter who fathered him, Jonah has raised him. Jonah is the one Elijah knows and loves. I’m happy that Jonah didn’t make my worst fears come true.