Marcus returned to Seattle full-time in May.
We had been dating almost six months.
That number bothered me.
Six months sounded serious.
Three months could still be described as experimenting.
Four months was ambiguous.
Six months sounded like a relationship.
I mentioned this to Marcus.
He said, "We could break up for two weeks and reset the clock."
I laughed.
"That isn't how time works."
"Then we're doomed."
We were sitting in his apartment.
It was the first time I had visited.
I had resisted for months.
Not because I thought he was hiding anything.
Because entering someone's home felt more intimate than restaurants.
His apartment was annoyingly normal.
Books.
Plants.
Architectural drawings.
A couch that looked chosen for comfort rather than appearance.
One framed photograph of his parents.
Another of a dog.
"Whose dog?"
"My ex-wife's."
I looked at him.
"You keep a picture of your ex-wife's dog?"
"His name was Winston."
"That does not answer the question."
"I loved Winston."
I laughed.
Marcus smiled.
Then asked, "Have you thought about when I meet Maisie?"
There it was.
I had.
Constantly.
"I talked to the counselor."
"Of course."
"And Derek."
Marcus nodded.
"How does he feel?"
"Appropriately cautious."
"Fair."
"And Elena."
His eyebrows rose.
"You consulted Derek's girlfriend?"
"She's part of Maisie's life."
"Also fair."
I continued.
"I don't want the first meeting to feel like an announcement."
"Okay."
"No 'this is Mommy's boyfriend.'"
"Okay."
"Just Marcus."
"Okay."
"Short."
"Okay."
"Public."
"Okay."
"Stop agreeing so easily."
He smiled.
"What would make you more comfortable? Resistance?"
"No."
"Then we're doing great."
The meeting happened at a Saturday farmers market.
Vanessa came too.
That was supposedly accidental.
It wasn't.
She wanted to inspect Marcus.
I had warned him.
"Your friend is evaluating me."
"Absolutely."
"Should I bring references?"
"Three professional and two personal."
"Credit report?"
"Helpful."
When Vanessa arrived, she shook his hand and said, "I've heard almost nothing about you, which means Jenna likes you."
I wanted the pavement to open.
Marcus laughed.
"I've heard enough about you to be afraid."
Vanessa looked pleased.
Maisie arrived with Derek ten minutes later.
She ran toward me.
Then noticed Marcus.
Children notice unfamiliar adults immediately.
"Who?"
Direct.
"This is my friend Marcus."
Marcus crouched slightly but didn't move closer.
"Hi, Maisie."
She stared.
"Hi."
Then:
"You Mommy friend?"
"Yes."
"Like Aunt Vanny?"
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
"Nobody is like Aunt Vanny."
Vanessa whispered, "Correct answer."
Maisie accepted him within six minutes because he knew the difference between a triceratops and a styracosaurus.
Apparently all my careful planning had overlooked the primary criterion.
Dinosaur competence.
We walked through the market.
Marcus never tried to hold her hand.
Never corrected her.
Never performed.
When she spoke, he listened.
When she ignored him, he allowed it.
I watched everything.
Too closely.
Derek noticed.
At one point he stepped beside me.
"She's fine."
"I know."
"You're staring."
"I am observing."
"You're staring professionally."
"Go away."
He laughed.
Elena and Sophie joined us later.
That created a group large enough to look like a poorly organized school trip.
Maisie and Sophie ran ahead.
Marcus and Derek ended up walking beside each other.
I hated that.
Not because anything was wrong.
Because I couldn't hear them.
Vanessa saw my face.
"Do not."
"I'm not doing anything."
"Your eyebrows are doing something."
"What are they talking about?"
"Probably sports."
"Derek doesn't care about sports."
"Then architecture."
"He doesn't care about architecture."
Vanessa sighed.
"Maybe they're discussing how exhausting you are."
"Likely."
After lunch, Marcus left first.
He hugged me.
Nothing more.
Not in front of Maisie.
That was something we had discussed.
When he walked away, Maisie asked, "Marcus come again?"
I looked at her.
"You want him to?"
"He know dinosaurs."
High praise.
"Maybe."
She nodded.
Then ran after Sophie.
Derek stood nearby.
"What do you think?" I asked.
He seemed surprised I wanted his opinion.
"About Marcus?"
"Yes."
"He seems decent."
That was almost glowing praise from Derek.
"Anything concern you?"
"No."
Then he smiled.
"Other than the fact that he voluntarily dates you."
"Leave."
He laughed.
That evening, Maisie and I were brushing our teeth when she asked, "Marcus your boyfriend?"
I nearly swallowed toothpaste.
"Where did you hear that?"
"Sophie."
Of course.
"Did Sophie say Elena is Daddy Derek's girlfriend?"
"Yes."
"And Marcus is Mommy's boyfriend?"
"Yes."
I rinsed my mouth.
"Marcus and I are dating."
"Boyfriend."
"Sure."
She smiled.
"You marry?"
"No plans."
"Why?"
"Because we've only known each other a while."
"How long marry?"
"There isn't a rule."
She frowned.
"Grandma Grandpa married."
"Yes."
"Daddy Derek marry Elena?"
"Still don't know."
"You marry Marcus, Daddy marry Elena."
She seemed pleased with this symmetrical arrangement.
"Life is not a matching game."
She ignored me.
"Then I have two family."
The words made me pause.
"You already have one family."
She shook her head.
"Mommy family. Daddy family."
"No."
I put down my toothbrush.
"They aren't separate like that."
Her expression changed.
"But different house."
"Yes."
"Different people."
"Sometimes."
"Then two."
I realized we were arguing terminology with a five-year-old.
Still, something about it mattered.
"You don't have to divide yourself."
She watched me.
"You can love everyone."
"At same time?"
"Yes."
"Even Grandma?"
I smiled.
"Even Grandma."
"Even Elena?"
"Yes."
"Marcus?"
"If you want."
She thought.
Then asked:
"Even Daddy when he leave?"
Everything inside me stopped.
I stared at her reflection.
"What?"
"Daddy Derek leave when baby."
My throat tightened.
"Who told you that?"
She shrugged.
"Know."
"How?"
"Grandma say before."
My pulse accelerated.
"When?"
She tried to remember.
"Long."
I sat on the edge of the bathtub.
"Come here."
She stood between my knees.
"What exactly did Grandma say?"
"She say Daddy missed baby time."
That was different.
Maybe.
"Anything else?"
"Mommy mad."
I closed my eyes.
Children collected fragments.
A sentence here.
An expression there.
A story overheard from another room.
Then they built their own explanations.
"Yes," I said.
"Daddy wasn't around when you were a baby."
"Why?"
The question I had known would come someday.
I had imagined answering it at eight.
Ten.
Twelve.
Not five.
"Because he was scared."
"Of me?"
"No."
Immediate.
"Never of you."
"Then what?"
"Of being a dad."
She frowned.
"Daddy dad now."
"Yes."
"He no scared."
"Maybe sometimes."
"Why leave?"
There was no answer simple enough to be painless.
"He made a bad choice."
"Like Grandma."
"Yes."
"Like Uncle Ky."
"Yes."
"Like you control."
I almost laughed.
"Apparently our family curriculum is very effective."
She didn't understand.
"Did Daddy say sorry?"
"Yes."
"To me?"
I paused.
That was the problem.
Derek had apologized through behavior.
Through consistency.
Through years of showing up.
But had he ever actually apologized to Maisie?
Not in words she understood.
"I think that's something you should ask him."
She looked worried.
"He sad?"
"Maybe."
"I no want sad."
There it was.
The family inheritance I refused to pass down.
"You are not responsible for making Daddy feel okay."
She watched me.
"You can ask questions even if the answer makes someone sad."
"Even you?"
That one hurt.
"Even me."
She nodded.
Then she said, "I love Daddy."
"I know."
"You mad?"
"No."
"Because he leave."
"I was mad about what he did."
"But I love."
"You can love him."
"At same time?"
"At the same time."
Her face relaxed.
The next morning, I called Derek.
"We need to talk."
He arrived that evening.
I told him.
His face drained.
"She knows?"
"Enough to ask."
He sat down.
"I thought we'd have more time."
"So did I."
"What did you tell her?"
"The truth at her level."
He nodded.
Then whispered, "What do I say?"
I almost answered.
Then stopped.
Not my apology.
"Your words."
Derek looked terrified.
Good.
Some conversations should be frightening.
Not because punishment was coming.
Because they mattered.
Maisie came out carrying a stuffed dinosaur.
"Daddy Derek."
He looked at her.
"Hey, bug."
She climbed beside him.
Then asked immediately, "Why you leave when I baby?"
Derek looked at me once.
I stayed silent.
He turned back to her.
"Because I was scared."
"Mommy say."
He nodded.
"I was scared, and instead of being brave, I went away."
Maisie stared.
"You no like me?"
Derek's eyes filled instantly.
"No."
His voice broke.
"No, sweetheart."
"Then why?"
"Because I didn't know you yet."
That was honest.
"And I was afraid I wouldn't know how to be your dad."
"You know now."
"I'm learning."
She touched his sleeve.
"You miss me?"
"Every day after I understood what I'd done."
She thought about that.
"Why no come?"
Derek swallowed.
"Because then I was ashamed."
Too complex.
Her face showed it.
He tried again.
"I knew I had done something wrong, and I was scared Mommy wouldn't let me fix it."
I felt something sharp.
Not because the statement was entirely wrong.
But because it moved responsibility toward me.
Derek caught it himself.
He corrected immediately.
"But that was still my choice."
Good.
"I should have tried sooner."
Maisie nodded slowly.
"You say sorry?"
Derek began crying.
"Yes."
She waited.
He realized what she meant.
Not to me.
To her.
He moved closer but did not touch her until she leaned toward him.
"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you were a baby."
Maisie watched him.
"You no change diaper?"
Derek laughed through tears.
"No."
"Good."
I covered my mouth.
Of course.
He laughed harder.
Then she became serious.
"You no leave now?"
Derek's face changed.
"I can't promise I'll never go anywhere."
Good answer.
"But I can promise I won't disappear from being your dad."
She considered.
"You come pickup Thursday?"
"Yes."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
She hugged him.
The conversation ended not with forgiveness as an abstract concept, but Thursday pickup.
That felt right.
Children trusted schedules before speeches.
After Maisie went to bed, Derek and I sat in the kitchen.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
"Not answering for me."
"I almost did."
He smiled faintly.
"I know."
Then his expression became serious.
"I said something wrong."
"I know."
"About you not letting me fix it."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry."
I nodded.
He rubbed his hands together.
"I still have this instinct to explain myself."
"Most people do."
"But explanation starts sounding like excuse."
"Sometimes."
He looked toward the hallway.
"I don't want her growing up thinking I left because you kept me away."
"Then don't give her that story."
"I won't."
A week later, Marcus came for dinner.
His first time in my apartment while Maisie was home.
He brought dessert.
Not flowers.
I had told him flowers would make the evening feel like a ceremony.
After dinner, Maisie made him inspect seventeen dinosaurs.
Then she asked:
"You leave babies?"
Marcus blinked.
I nearly dropped my glass.
"What?"
"You leave baby?"
Marcus looked at me.
I closed my eyes.
"Recent family history lesson."
He nodded slowly.
Then answered her.
"I don't have any babies."
"Why?"
"I never had children."
"You want?"
Marcus paused.
I suddenly became extremely interested in the dishes.
"I don't know."
That answer surprised me.
Maisie moved on.
I didn't.
After she slept, I asked.
"You don't know?"
Marcus understood immediately.
"About children?"
"Yes."
"I used to think no."
"And now?"
He looked toward Maisie's room.
"Now I know the question is more complicated."
My body tightened.
"Marcus."
"I'm not saying I expect you to have another child."
Good.
"I'm saying I don't know what I want yet."
Less good.
We had reached the first real uncertainty between us.
Not scheduling.
Not introductions.
Future.
"Do you want biological children?"
"I don't know."
I stared at him.
"That's a big thing not to know."
"Yes."
"At forty."
"Also yes."
I folded my arms.
He remained calm.
"Do you?"
The question caught me.
"Want another child?"
"Yes."
My immediate instinct was no.
Then I realized I had not asked myself in years.
"I don't know."
Marcus nodded.
That annoyed me.
"Why are you so calm?"
"Because neither of us knows."
"This could matter."
"It probably does."
"And?"
"And we don't need to solve it tonight."
I hated that he was right.
Again.
After he left, I stood outside Maisie's room.
I had spent years thinking my future was already shaped.
One child.
One career.
One complicated family.
One carefully built life.
Marcus had not asked me to change any of it.
He had merely exposed a question I had stopped allowing myself to ask.
Was the life I had built the life I wanted forever?
Or was it simply the first life in which I finally felt safe enough to choose again?
Click here to continue reading: PART 23: A Question About Another Child Forced Marcus and Me to Confront the Difference Between Building a Future and Escaping Into One
Halfway to My Mother’s Birthday, One Message Made Me Turn Around and Question Everything My Family Had Taught Me About Love
Part 22 of 35
