Gods & Monsters(100)

My Abel. He was thorough.

I also knew that every time he had to leave me and go back to the city, he was devastated. I was, too. In fact, that’s all I’d been for the past few months. Devastated and broken and heartsick. I never thought I’d leave Abel. I never thought I was capable of it.

But I guess, a mother is capable of anything. A mother is a goddess who can do anything to protect her child, including hurting herself.

I don’t think I have ever cried as much as I did in those months when I was apart from my husband. It wasn’t easy to wait for him. It wasn’t easy to listen to his voicemails, hear about his day and his accomplishments, and not tell him how proud I was.

But again, baby steps. Everything about our love story has always been fast and furious, filled with too much passion and intensity. We both needed a reprieve. We both needed pain-free moments.

When doctor said I might need to take it easy for a few days, I knew the time was right. It had been right for a while now.

So I broached the question, outside of the clinic, on the sidewalk. “So, uh, do you think I could, maybe, live with you for a while?”

“Yes,” he said before I even finished my question. Then, he blushed — my Abel blushed — and cleared his throat. “I mean, of course. For as long as you like.”

I bit my lips to stop my smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

At that, I couldn’t control myself and threw my arms around his neck and planted a hard kiss on his mouth. Oh, it was like coming home or finally, catching your breath after running for so, so long. That’s when we got the first snowfall of the season. I knew it was a good omen.

Since then, Abel has done everything he can to make our studio cozy and colorful. Yellow walls, orange throw pillows, sky-blue curtains. And books. So many books.

In a little corner, Abel has his easel set up. He still works the construction job but every day he gets better at his sketches. Soon, he’s going to be the biggest artist ever who won’t need a day job. At first, he’d only sketch my portraits and I can’t believe my face is up at some of the great galleries around town. But now, he also makes portraits of other people. Some of them are his friends from his work, and some are strangers that we see at the park, and are nice enough to sit for him.

I always knew Abel could never be invisible. His art won’t let him. His art won’t judge him, either, and neither will the people who love his sketches. For them, he’s simply Abel Adams, their favorite artist.

After I moved in, Abel was there for me when I called my parents. I thought it was time to put things to rest and make peace with what happened.

My dad was the one who picked up the phone. That voice. So familiar. A voice I’ve been hearing for the past eighteen years of my life. It must have been one of the very first voices I’d heard when I was born. What do you say to that voice? The words died in my throat. I couldn’t speak. Abel gathered me in his arms, rocking me as I dredged up my courage to say something, anything.

But my dad knew who it was because he said my name, softly. It sounded so anguished, and all I knew was I never wanted to hear that again.

“Dad?”

He sighed. “Are you okay?”

A sob escaped me and I nodded before I realized he couldn’t see me. So I cleared my throat and said, “Y-yes. I… I’m okay. How’s Mom? You?”

He didn’t say anything for the longest time and I thought he hung up on me. I burrowed my face in Abel’s chest, soaking his t-shirt with my tears, when Dad spoke, “You put us through a lot, Evie. Your mom’s been sick. She’s only now starting to get better, and I don’t want you upsetting her.”

His voice had completely changed, became harsher and maybe I should’ve been angry at that, angry that he still cared about my mom more than he cared about me, but I wasn’t. I was only sad.

“I just called to tell you something. I’m going to have a baby, Dad.” I swallowed. “I’m going to be a mom, a-and Abel’s gonna be a dad.”

I looked up at my husband, who had been like a warm rock up until now. His face was carved out of stone, his jaw was gritted. It was my turn to comfort him now, so I fisted his cross and gave him a soft smile.

“Do you, uh, need anything? Money or anything like that? Babies can be expensive and I’m willing to send you some, if you need it.”

At this Abel spoke, “We don’t need money from you, Mr. Hart. I’m sorry I should’ve told you I was here, as well.” He shook his head, leaning over the cell phone, letting his voice be heard clearly. “We only called because we wanted to let you know that you’ll be a grandfather soon. I don’t need money. I’m taking care of it. I’m taking care of my wife. And I wanted to let you know that I…” A sigh. “What happened that night, what you said to me? I was angry about that for a long time. Many times, I wanted to hurt you back, take my revenge. But I don’t feel that anymore. I think what you did was because of your daughter. I think you were afraid that I’d fuck her up or something. Believe me, I know that now. I know that if there were even a tiny bit of a possibility that someone might hurt my child, I’d probably do the same. But…”

He turned to me, looking into my eyes, as if he was talking to me as much as talking to my dad. “I want you to know that I’ll strive to be a good father. I don’t know much about it but I’m gonna learn, every single day of my life. I’m gonna protect my daughter and I’m gonna protect yours, too. If she’ll let me.”