Alcohol You Later (4)
Try as I might, I can’t place her. “I’ve never seen this woman before in my life.”
At least, I don’t think I have.
I roll my eyes as realization dawns. This isn’t the first time someone tries to saddle one of us with a kid. Certainly, won’t be the last. It is, however, the first time Anika’s entertained it to the point of inviting the accuser and her child, or in this case children, into our personal space.
I’m strongly considering escorting this chick and her spawn out myself when a photo is shoved into my face.
“What about this one,” Anika growls. “Have you seen this one?”
I snatch the Polaroid from her hand and examine it. Considering the little blonde hottie is strung across my lap, I can’t exactly deny having at the very least met her. “Appears so.”
“Well, allow me to introduce you to her sister, Stacy. We met backstage during the show. Had a very interesting conversation.” She quirks a brow. “About you.”
The way Anika’s looking at me makes my stomach sink. My own father has never made me feel this small, and I still have no clue what any of this is about. “Uh…hi.”
The girl’s answering nod is followed by an uncomfortable silence. I guess they’re expecting me to take the lead.
It will be my pleasure.
“What the hell is going on?” My earlier excitement has transformed into irritation, bordering on outright anger. I’m gonna blow if someone doesn’t start talking, and not from the head I’d prefer.
“Go on,” Anika urges.
The girl steps forward. “My sister sent me.” Her eyes well. She’s nervous as all get out. “H—here,” she says, juggling one of the kids around to get to an envelope in the back pocket of her jeans. She holds it out with two fingers, motioning with the tilt of her head for me to grab it. “Read this. It’ll explain everything.” She gives me a wobbly smile. “Then, we’ll talk.”
Bile churns in my gut as I rip the seal. Before reading, I glance over to Rhett and Korie, who haven’t said a word.
“Read the damn thing,” my cousin growls, exasperated. “Preferably aloud,” she adds.
“Right.” I nod, unfolding the delicate dragonfly stationary and clearing my throat. After glancing ahead at the first sentence, a knot forms in my esophagus, and I can’t locate my voice. As I read each line to myself, I experience a wicked range of emotions, from jaw-clenching anger to a hollow ache in the core of my chest. I don’t know what to feel. How to react.
Dear Nicholas,
If you’re reading this letter, it means I’m already gone from this world and yours is being turned on its axis. For that I am sorry. More than you will ever know. I’ve had nearly two years to consider how best to relay this news, yet the words still seem inadequate. How does one apologize for something that, if given the chance, she’d do all over again? Despite the immense guilt I feel over keeping this secret, I can’t bring myself to regret the time I’ve had with my babies—our babies—nor the joy they’ve brought in my final days.
Their names are Ava and Alex, and you’re their father…
Woah, right? I probably should have started by telling you to have a seat.
By now you are most definitely scratching your head and wondering who the hell I am. Before you write me off as some obsessed groupie, please hear me out. For surely, you must realize I have nothing to gain by telling you this from the grave.
I’ve included a photo of us the night we met to help jog your memory. Ours isn’t much of a story to tell. The gist of it is, we met in the VIP room at the Golden Saddle in Nashville after your performance at the Country Roots Festival. I was your server, and later a scratch to an itch. You were the rock star I’d brag about hooking up with for the rest of my days.
So, why, if this is even true, have I waited so long to tell you? Please, bear with me. I promise, I’m getting there. You see, I learned of my pregnancy during an emergency trip to the hospital where I was dealt a double diagnosis—brain cancer…and pregnancy.
Jesus. It’s still so much to take in.
From that moment, my life became a whirlwind. My cancer was deemed terminal and one baby became two. The issue of when and how to tell you just wasn’t a priority. Selfishly, I wanted whatever time I had with our children to be mine and mine alone. I didn’t want to share them with the media. To split what already-finite moments I’d been granted. So, I took this for myself all the while knowing the only time I’d ever have with our babies would be stolen from their father—precious time you will never get back. I’m sorry for that.
Of course, you’ll want proof. Who wouldn’t? I’m sure you are doubting and even praying that this is all some scheme and that breaks my heart, because you don’t yet know what a treasure Ava and Alex are. But you will. Inevitably a DNA test will show that they’re yours, and while I could have taken that knowledge to the grave and left my family to raise our children—and you’re wishing that’s what I would have done—I couldn’t. You deserve to know. But moreover, our children deserve to have at least one of their parents in their lives.
No one knows better than I how completely unfair our situation is. All of it. The fact that I was granted my greatest desire in life—to be a mother—only to have that taken away in my very next breath. I am dying, and our babies will never know their mother. They won’t even remember me. So, while yes, it was wrong of me to keep them from you and then to completely blindside you by dropping them off this way…my only concern can be for Ava and Alex, who are innocent. To give them the best life possible, despite our shitty circumstance. I believe with all of my heart that the best is you.