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money that neither of us wants to pay. But I’ll pay it. If that’s what it takes,
I will drag this in front of a judge, who will take one look at your history
and force you to undergo a year of parenting classes that we both know you
have no interesting in completing.” I lean forward, folding my arms
together. “I want legal custody of him, but I’m not asking you to disappear.
I don’t want you to. The last thing I want is for that boy to grow up feeling
as unloved by you as I felt.”
She sits frozen in my words, so I pick up my fork and take a casual bite
of my dinner.
She stares at me while I chew, and she’s still staring at me as I wash
down the food with a sip of water. I’m sure her brain is running a mile a
minute, searching for an insult or a threat of her own, but she’s got nothing.
“Every Tuesday night we’re going to have dinner here, as a family. You
are more than welcome to come. I’m sure he would enjoy that. I’ll never
ask you for a penny. All I ask is that you show up one night a week and be
interested in who he is, even if you have to fake it.”
I notice Sutton’s fingers are shaking as she reaches for her wineglass.
She must notice, too, because she makes a fist before grabbing it and pulls
her hand back to her lap. “You must not remember Cape Cod if you think I
was such a horrible mother to you.”
“I remember Cape Cod,” I say. “It’s the one memory I try to hold on to
so that I don’t completely resent you. But while you feel like you did this
wonderful thing by giving me that one memory of us that one time, I’m
offering to give that to Josh every day of his life.”
Sutton looks down at her lap when I say that. For the first time, she looks
like she might be experiencing an emotion other than anger or irritation.
Maybe I am, too. When I decided to have this conversation with her on
the drive home from Tim’s house today, I fully planned on cutting her out of
our lives forever. But even monsters can’t survive without a heart beating
inside their chest.
There’s a heart in there somewhere. Maybe no one in her life has ever let
her know they’re appreciative that it still beats.
“Thank you,” I say.
Her eyes flicker up to mine. She thinks I’m testing her with that
comment.
I shake my head, conflicted by what I’m about to say. “You were a single
mother, and I know neither of our fathers helped you in any way. That must