In effect, Eric has had two separate lives; he has used one to protect the other from the truth regarding the future of his company’s financing. The man that financed Eric’s company had no idea that he even had grandchildren.
Megan asked, “What will happen when Vanessa’s father finds out?”
My father folded his hands together. “It depends. But if a person believes that a business partner has deceived him in this manner, that person will take a very close look at the terms of the deal.”
Looking at the divorce papers on the table in front of me, I asked my father, “Does Eric know that we know about the relationship between Vanessa and Eric?”
“He knows about Vanessa,” my father said, “but he does not know about the information found regarding her family by the investigator.”
To me, this was significant. Eric had been the person controlling information for me for the past seven years. The information that I had was the information that Eric had chosen to allow me to have. Now that I had more information that was no longer in Eric’s favor, the power had shifted to me.
Once again, my father’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and then turned the phone toward me; it was a financial news alert regarding his company announcing changes in management. The language was cautious, however, the meaning was clear.
“The billionaire has already made his move.”
Megan responded and stated, “He already knew.”
My father added, “Or someone could have told him.”I wondered what went through his mind as he made that decision so quickly. It stands to reason that if a man is powerful enough to buy corporations, he is also powerful enough to know everything about the people surrounding his daughter; this does not seem like a coincidence, but instead, it seems like this man waited until the perfect opportunity presented itself. That opportunity, I’m certain, was the day after a man who was already married, abandoned his wife on the side of the road, while she was pregnant.
My father positioned the phone down on the countertop.
“You don’t have to ponder this today.”
“I already am.”
“Claire,” he replied.
“I may be eight months along, but I’m still not unconscious!” I said, with a sense of humor.
My father almost cracked a smile at this.
Megan, who sat next to me, squeezed my hand gently. She had always had a calm, steady demeanour and never needed to say much to make a presence felt.
I examined the photo of the boy again, noting the dimple on his cheek and the eyes that were undoubtedly Eric’s as a child. I began to think about what Vanessa might know or had known about this.
Megan was watching my face intently.
“You don’t have to make a decision about Vanessa yet,” she said, gently reassuring me.
“I’m aware.”
“She may have also been used in the same way as you were.”
“I’m aware,” I repeated.
Neither of those two statements made viewing the photograph any easier; however, both statements were, indeed, factual.
The nurse entered to examine the monitors and administrated the IV while asking:
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Better than I was yesterday,” I replied.
The nurse acknowledged my answer with a nod. She then informed me that the doctor would be visiting me later that afternoon.“Everything looks good. We can expect to talk about your discharge tomorrow morning.”
There was silence again after she left my room. It was peaceful. I began to think about the house. My father changing all the locks. All the rooms in my mind that were once part of a messy but real marriage. Then my mind went to the nursery. The nursery had soft green walls. It had the little book shelf I put together by myself. It had the mobile above the crib.
I knew I wasn’t going back for furniture. I did want that mobile, though. I would ask Megan to bring it for me.
“Are you sleeping?” my father asked.
“No,” I said.
“Rest.”
“Dad,” I said.
“Claire,” he said.
That was our language. Throughout my life, we had only ever said each other’s first names. He continued to stay seated in his chair, and as it got darker outside, I realized the light was soft and sad. I placed my hand on my belly. The baby continued slow movements and steady breathing. My baby and I were both still present. That was the beginning.
I knew it would take time for the divorce to happen and even longer for the financial separation to take place. I would need attorneys to file papers for me. I would have to attend meetings with the judge and negotiate how to divide up what was left. Somewhere in that process, I would give birth to a child. My child deserved a parent who had already made the choice to be involved and present with them.
It is easy to look at choices from the outside and assume they are sudden. From the inside, they are usually the culmination of a long journey.
My father was looking at me with a mixture of pride and sadness.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?” he replied.
“For coming, for hiring the investigator, for putting new locks on my doors, and for not telling me everything was going to be fine.”
After a moment of silence, he replied, “It will be, just not how you thought.”
I said, “No, not like that.”
The light moved slightly across the floor. Megan brought horrible hospital coffee and drank it willingly. My baby continued to move with steady and constant presence.
Outside the baby’s room, Eric would discover how many things have changed, including the locks, the lawyer, the investigation, and the company. He controlled every bit of information I received for years.
That part of my life was over.
The next part of my life would be difficult and not at all easy. Being easy and being right have never been the same.
I looked at my father.
“I will need your help.”
He nodded without delay.
“You will have it.”
This was the first step toward where I wanted to go.
