History

My mother, probably bitter about her own choices, was thrilled I was not that much different than her after all. She always believed that I thought I was better than her. In her eyes, this revelation about me brought me down a couple of pegs where I belonged. 

For some reason, she mistook my reserved, shy, nature as silent judgment about her own flaws. That could not have been farther from the truth. I never thought I was better than her; I was just her opposite. For someone as brash and outspoken as she was, she never opened up to me. She kept me at arm’s length and then blamed me for being distant.  

I learned from my own observations that the flashy, showy woman was just a front. I see that now, even if she doesn’t. I loved her because she was my mother, but I would have loved to learn about her as a woman, so I could have loved her too. 

Maybe if she had not pegged me for an uptight, bourgeois snob, then I could have learned to save my love instead of looking to give it to the first person who gave me some attention. Even if she did, it probably would not have made a difference. I fell in love with a man who couldn’t love me completely. 

I tried to love him enough for the both of us. I convinced myself that my love, my simple, devoted, loyal love would make up for the love he couldn’t give me. 

And convince him to leave his wife. I was naïve. That was one thing my mother figured out correctly about me. 

A lover of drama, she also sensed I had plenty to share when she made her obligatory “check-in” call to me.  

“You sound down. Is everything all right?” she asked.  

“Yeah I’m fine,” I said. She didn't seem convinced. 

“I’m good, Mom. I’m just tired. That must be what you’re hearing in my voice,” I said. 

“Chelsea, you haven’t been quite yourself. It’s that guy you’re seeing, isn't it?” 

She invited herself over. I had her favorite tea ready. I told her that he was working on leaving his wife. She nearly choked on her vanilla chai. 

“Girly, they never leave their wives! Never! Your own father stayed with his. The life he promised me, he went and had with her,” she said.  

My father. The man who was never a part of my life. The man who broke my mother’s heart, though she’d never admitted it to me. The man, who like my own, was legally tied to another woman.  

My mind went back to the first and last time I saw the man she claimed was my father.  

There were a lot of cars in the parking lot. A big, black scary vehicle was parked right outside of the church with a line of limousines behind it. My mother and I walked in and headed straight for the front of the church; an usher handed my mother an obituary. All I saw were huge floral arrangements. A white casket with gold trim stuffed in between the huge, funeral fragrant flowers. The smell made me feel sick.  

“Doesn’t he just look peaceful? Done with all the hell you caused, huh? Well, here is your daughter, Chelsea. The last time you saw her, she was a few months old. Huh. Guess you ain’t really seeing her now either,” my mother said to the man in the casket.  

I was no more than four years old. I was scared of seeing a dead man and unable to mourn him. That dead man was a complete stranger to me. 

A woman immediately walked up to us as we walked away from the casket.  

“You have no business being here,” she said, just loudly enough for only me and my mom to hear.  

“You’re lucky I don’t make a scene. I came to pay my respects to the father of my child. May he forever rest in peace,” my mom said. She grabbed my hand and we left the church. 

We never spoke about why my father’s funeral was the first time I “met" him. I have no clue what she did with the funeral program. We never spoke about him at all. 

“Is that why we went to his funeral?” I said. She looked shocked for a moment. Then a petty smile appeared on her face. 

“Our presence was important. He didn’t acknowledge us in his life; I was going to make sure we were acknowledged in his death. His wife couldn’t pretend we didn’t exist anymore.”

“Who was that woman who stopped us?”  

“You remembered that? That was his wife’s sister, Alabaster, Alafair, Abilene or whatever. The look on her face when I marched into that church with you was priceless!” 

“Was there any chance that I could have met him while he was, you know, alive?” 

She laughed at this question. 

“If he wanted to, sure. We were around. He saw you maybe once or twice when you were a few months old. But that is what happens when a married man has no plans to leave his wife, even after creating a new family with another woman. They forget about you and the life you made. That is exactly what has happened to you. That man had you believing he had beachfront property in Brooklyn to sell you!” 

“I realize that now.”  

“Of course, girly. Hindsight is always 20/20.”

My mother finished her tea, mildly disappointed my personal tea was not as piping hot as the tea in her cup. She left with promises to “check-in” with me in a few days. 

I assured her nothing would change between now and then. 

Daniel told me that he and his wife were getting a divorce. He was unhappy being with her and he was ready to move on to someone who would love as fiercely as he did. He said no one ever loved him the way I did. 

He said his wife was the one dragging her heels. I told him I would try my best to be patient, but he needed to start the process so we wouldn’t have to hide anymore. 

“At least move out of the house Daniel,” I said on more than one occasion. The last time I begged him to leave his wife, he was at my apartment. He spent the night, something he had never done before.  

“It’s just not that simple,” he said.  

“What is not simple about it? Separation is the first step, right? Establish a separate residence from her. Show her you are done because telling her isn’t working.” 

He sighed and held my hand. “Chelsea, I want to and I will. It is not so easy to just pack up my things and leave. Don’t worry. You and I will be together. We are together. I am not going anywhere.” 

That was good enough until it wasn’t. We started seeing each other less and less; he piled on the excuses. He had to work late or he fell asleep, his mother asked him to move her trash cans, or whatever he could think of to keep us from seeing each other.  

I realized too late that I was short-term. A mere distraction from the pressures of marriage. I was a brief bump-in-the-road on a path to reconciliation I did not even know he was on. 

His wife reached out to me through social media. 

I’ve been debating on whether or not I was going to contact you. I can’t get a straight answer from my husband, so maybe you can fill in the gaps. He told me that what you all had going on wasn’t serious. It was over before it even started.  How long has this been going on? I have my suspicions, but I need one of you to be forthcoming and tell the truth.  

I never considered that she would confront me, in person or otherwise. I was angry Daniel put me in such a position to be questioned like this. I was just as annoyed that she had the nerve to contact me in the first place.  

You knew he was married. I might be more understanding if you had no clue, but you did. Why did you carry on knowing he was married?  

She deserved answers, but she wasn’t going to get them from me.  

I know you see my messages, but you’re not responding. That’s fine. You’re a coward, so I am not surprised. Just know that I know and have known for some time. I know things he thinks I don’t know about the two of you. But know this about me; I was always around. I will always be around. I’m his wife and the mother of his unborn baby. Quite sure he left that last part out. 

She sent me a couple of photos from their maternity shoot. Both of them smiling. He was standing behind her with his hands on her stomach; her hands were on his. 

In the last photo she sent, her pregnant belly cradled in his hands. He was lovingly kissing her stomach. 

Due September 2020. 

The baby's due date was the last message she sent me. I called Daniel instead of responding to his wife. No answer. I called three more times. The last call went straight to voicemail. 

Her being pregnant was not a bombshell. Of course, she would be pregnant. That’s how these situations turn out, right? 

I wanted to tell Daniel in person that we also had a baby on the way, but he stopped being available to meet in-person. Now he wasn’t answering my calls. 

I have no idea how my mother handled being pregnant by a married man. She never told me. I never asked. I do know one thing; a funeral will not be where my child sees his or her father for the first time.  

I texted Daniel the next day. 

Your wife messaged me yesterday. 

She did?

Yep. Told me you all have a baby on the way. I guess congratulations is in order. 

I was going to tell you. I’m sorry you found out the way that you did. 

That’s fine. Looks like you have two babies on the way. 

There was significant lag time in his response. 

What?????? 

Due February 2021. 

I sent him a picture of the sonogram I got from my first OBGYN visit. 

What are you going to do? Are you keeping it? 

I started to respond to his questions, but stopped.  

Chels...u there? This is a lot for me to handle. I hope you can understand why I haven’t been around. I love you. I'm sorry.

I deleted all of the messages between the two of us. He called me several times before I went ahead and deleted and blocked his phone number. 

This life growing inside of me deserves much better. I deserve much better too.