Page 42 of Unbound
Oh my God, I sound so pathetic.
“Uh huh.” He sees right through me; he always does. I can’t help but feel like some kind of stalker having the CD in my car.
Without saying anything, I put the car in gear and head to the store. We remain silent, the sounds of the music and Lyric in the back shaking his rattle attached to his car seat the only sounds.
It’s strange having Rawley in my car and even stranger trying to decide what this means. Yesterday he left me at the football field saying he was going to say something he regretted, yet twenty-four hours later, we’re going to the store together. I’m not entirely sure what to make of it.
JUST LIKE EVERY other time I take Lyric in public, he gains everyone’s attention. Maybe it’s the eyes that are like tiny wishing wells of hope, or maybe it’s the constant bright smile he wears. It’s rare to see him not smiling.
Rawley notices everyone’s attention on him immediately, the way they stop and smile or give us a passing “awe” when he practices his wave on them. I think they notice Rawley too because not only is it a small town, but they remember him for who he was and who he is now.
One older lady stops near us. “Awe, you can definitely tell who his daddy is.”
Rawley doesn’t look at her and instead, he stares at Lyric who’s smiling at the lady because someone talked to him.
“He does,” I tell her, trying to be polite.
“Is he really mine?” Rawley whispers when she passes by, still looking at Lyric.
“Yes.” I’m not sure why he asked because you take one look at Lyric and it’s completely obvious. He has to see that.
Rawley shakes his head, his stare moving to mine.
“Listen, if you don’t want to be a part of his life, I get it. I just….” My words come out wrong. I shake my head, feeling so, so much in that moment, and I say what I’m fearing. That despite us being at the grocery store and side-by-side, we may never be together, parenting in the way I desperately want.
“Christ, Sophie,” he curses under his breath, his jaw tightening. “I didn’t say that.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, hating that I’m hurting him, but also know he did it to me for years.
He shakes his head and he’s back to watching me, gauging reactions and saying very little, until he turns to me. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s just… you’re waiting for me to say I don’t want to be a part of his life and never giving me a chance to say I do.” His words are hard. Not mean, they’re honest. He cares and it’s different from the Rawley I was left with for so long that I’m not sure how to take this.
“Well, do you?” My chest hurts and strains as I try to act normal and strong in front of my son, hoping he doesn’t understand what we’re talking about. I don’t want this: reality and answers that have the potential to destroy the moment like a wildfire leaving nothing in its wake, burning everything within reach. At least I don’t think I do.
But I’m trapped here as he studies my face, lips and then my eyes. The look in his eyes and expression on his face causes my pulse to race. “I think I do,” he says lowly, gaze steady, right at me, filling me with hope and emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.
He was never good at hiding his emotions, but it didn’t mean he didn’t try.
My vision glides across his features, studying his every line in his face. I can see past the darkness, the will to forgive and forget and the temptation to let it go. He wants to. He does. But I don’t think he’s quite there yet.
I look at Lyric when I feel something wet on my hand. It’s his mouth, he’s trying to suck on the handle of the grocery cart, but thankfully he gets my hand instead. When I tickle his cheek, I’m met with the little boy who’s a spitting image of the man next to me, same eyes, same mouth… and I can’t help but smile at him.
Nervous butterflies swarm my stomach and I can’t stop fidgeting as Rawley tips his head down the aisle. “Weren’t you looking for diapers?”
I swing the cart around. “Yes.”
I want out of the store and away from Rawley. I don’t know why, but I think because I’m afraid of what he’s going to say next. My chest feels tight and my breathing speeds up, a lump rising in my throat. Fuck. I’m nearing tears in a damn grocery store.
My eyes glisten and I tell myself I’m going to be fine and I need to calm down, taking in deep breaths as I walk down the aisle until I find the brand of diapers I use.
Rawley notices. His hand finds mine on the grocery cart. His eyes roam my face, chest expanding as his lips part and lashes briefly flicker. “I wasn’t trying to upset you. I thought you wanted me to be a part of his life… don’t you?”
I have to draw in a breath to keep the sob begging to surface inside. “I want you to be. I want him to know you. The you I loved.”
His brow furrows again and he doesn’t miss the past tense in my words. I also don’t correct myself because as much as it’s present tense in my life, I don’t want to say anymore.
As we walk throughout the store, our feet squeaking against the tile floor, my anxiety grows, and when I get anxious, I ask stupid questions.
It’s in the produce section when I’m grabbing avocados and bananas, the only thing my baby ever eats when I ask, “What have you been up to the last year?”
