Forgive Us Our Trespasses

by M. L. Steinbrunn

  It’s been a week since I saw Vivian at the reunion, and I have felt every second of those 168 hours. I nearly had to cancel my phone service, or amputate my hands to keep from calling Jen to get her number. Because Jen knows the truth, she’s the only one that wouldn’t maim me for even asking for Vivian’s information. I didn’t expect to feel the way I did when I saw her. In a single moment, the pain I had been running from for all these years came slamming into me.

  Vivian was my one, the only woman that I ever wanted to spend my life with. I may or may not have broken down and Facebook-stalked her for the last few days. I felt like I was spying on the life that I should have had with her. Hey, don’t judge me.

  I really figured that after this long, Jen would have told her what had really happened between Amber and me, which was absolutely nothing. Needless to say, I was shocked that she still thinks I cheated, and that she hates me.

  I’ve spent the last decade trying to avoid the thought of her. I focused on my career, building a successful architectural firm. When it came to women, well, I spent my evenings fucking my way through the tri-state area, trying to let go of the one woman who I couldn’t forget. I used women to dull the pain, numb the remaining shreds of my heart, but nothing worked.

  It crushed me to let her go ten years ago, but I really thought I was letting the better man win. Will would never hurt her, and knowing who I was and where I came from was something I don’t think she could have ever forgiven. Losing her only compounded my torment, but it was worth it to know that she was happy and her heart was safe.

  But now Will is gone; Will is fucking dead.

  “Daddy, can you come snuggle me?” Grace’s sweet voice breaks through my self-deprecating thoughts. She is standing just inside the house, leaning on the doorframe to the deck, snuggled up in her pink fleece blanket, and gripping her favorite stuffed elephant. Her curly raven hair is standing on end; the back, I’m sure, is entirely frizzed, and my only hairstyle option for the day will be a ponytail.

  “Sure, Lovebug, go warm up our spot on the couch, and I’ll be there in just a second with Sleeping Beauty.”

  “No, Daddy, the mean dragon-lady is scary. I want Cinderella.”

  “You got it, baby. I’ll be right there.”

  Satisfied with the plan for the morning, she turns and runs into the house to make our couch fort for the movie. No doubt, when I get in there, she will have a full zoo of stuffed animals propped all around the couch to view the family feature.

  I slowly peel myself out of the lounge chair and stretch my arms above my head, trying to iron out the kinks in my neck and back. Gathering up my empty coffee cup, I walk back into the house to spend the day with my little girl.

  “I have your spot all ready, Daddy,” she says, pulling back the blanket on the couch. I put the DVD into the player and snuggle in next to her.

  “Thank you, baby,” I say, and kiss the top of her head as she settles into the crook of my arm. “Gracie, I was thinking that after the movie we could go shopping and get everything you’re going to need for preschool this year. Does that sound like a plan?”

  “Okay, Daddy, but you have to promise that I can pick out my own backpack. Last year you made me get that Care Bears bag, and they are not cool. I want a Hello Kitty backpack with sparkles.”

  “How do you know what’s cool?”

  “I’m four, and four is old enough to know cool, and Care Bears are not cool.”

  “Well, all right then. Hello Kitty it is.” I laugh.

  “I want a lunchbox, too.”

  “Don’t push it, little girl.”

  She lets out a little sigh and then shakes her hands excitedly, shushing me when the opening credits come on. We have seen Cinderella more times than I can count, and yes, she makes me sing the songs. I may not sing on key, but I know every damn word, and I figure that’s what counts.

  She settles back against my chest, and we enjoy our father/daughter moment. I never thought I would have children unless it was with Vivian, but then I got the surprise of my life, little Grace. I was never with her mother–let me clarify that, I was never in a relationship with Grace’s mom. She was a reoccurring one-night-stand that resulted in an unplanned pregnancy. She didn’t want to have the baby, and well, I did.

  I felt that a child could be my chance at redemption. I talked her into having the baby, promising to raise her on my own. She agreed to sign over her rights, but only after I paid her a hefty sum for what she called ‘the destruction of her body.’ I said I fucked quantity, and Grace’s mother goes to show that I didn’t exactly care about the level of quality.

  “Grace, I don’t think you need all of these school supplies for preschool. I’m pretty sure they have everything there for you; you just need to take a backpack,” I say as Grace throws another package of glitter pens into the cart.

  The child has gone insane in the school supply section of Target. My four-year-old is leading me around on what has become the biggest nerd-shopping spree known to man. I love her to death, but seriously, I was expecting a five-minute in-and-out trip to get her damn Hello Kitty backpack, and maybe splurge on the lunchbox, but I may have to whip out the platinum card for this haul.

  Grace steps around the side of the cart, places her hands on her waist, and sticks out her hip in pure attitude mode. Good Lord, if she’s like this now, Heaven help me when she’s thirteen.

  “Daddy, you never know what you might need, and what if my teacher gives me homework? I need things at home just in case. We should make me my own office like yours at home. Can we, Daddy? Pleeeease?”

  Yeah, how do I argue with that? No matter what kind of a demanding dick I am at work, this little girl dissolves every bit of that hardness, and I’m putty in her hand. What’s worse is I think that she knows it. Dammit.

  “Okay, Lovebug, but we need to rein it in a little bit. We have enough markers in the cart to provide a stock pile for the entire school district.”

  “Hey, they are different sizes and colors; all of them are important, Daddy!” she exclaims. “How horrible would it be if I needed to draw a picture of the ocean for my teacher, and I didn’t have light blue, only regular blue? You wouldn’t be able to see any of the fish in my picture, and then my teacher would hate it and think that I didn’t know that fish were in the ocean, and then she would hold me back. I wouldn’t get to go to kindergarten! We need them all, Daddy!” Grace’s arms are flailing about in the most animated fashion, and her voice has turned into a high-pitched squeal.

  Yep, I totally lost that battle. “No one’s flunking anything, Lovebug. The teacher will know that you know there are fish in the ocean, because I’m sure you’ll tell her plenty of times.”

  I sigh, knowing I can’t let her completely win. I refuse to have one of those kids at preschool; you know, the kind that thinks they can have anything. However, I also don’t want to be one of those parents that have to carry his screaming and kicking four-year-old out of Target either, so a compromise is entirely necessary in this situation.

  “You can have two boxes of markers, but that is it, Gracie Lou,” I say, holding up two fingers for emphasis.

  She huffs a little, and then exhales an extreme, “Fine. I’ll go put them back.”

  She gathers up the other boxes and starts around the corner to the next aisle. “I’ll be right behind you; put the markers back where they go, please.” I figure that I can fall behind and clear out the cart a little while she’s not with me. I can hopefully avoid another office supply confrontation.

  I swear getting things away from this child is a planned event. I have to smuggle broken toys and crayons out of the house; it’s like our own episode of Child Hoarders.

  She ignores me, and as soon as she turns the corner, I begin to gather anything non-essential that I can fit in my arms, and throw the items on the shelves. No, I’m not concerned about how I return the objects, as long as they are out of my cart; desperate times call for desperate measures. I’ll be sure
to give an extra thank you to the check-out lady since I just made a mess of the school supply section.

  As soon as I’m satisfied with the amount of space I cleared out in the cart, I make my way to the markers, only to find the aisle empty. I see where Grace has dropped off the discarded markers; her mess looks similar to mine. “Grace,” I call out, trying not to panic. Grace is usually pretty good about not wandering off, so for her not to be here puts my stomach into knots.

  I walk quickly down the aisle, my low tone turning into a holler, “Grace, where are you?” I stop suddenly in my tracks when I hear her little voice conversing with the only other voice that has been burned into my memory. I pause to listen to the conversation, enjoying the moment that I wish would have been my reality all along.

  “So, Care Bears are not cool anymore, huh?” Vivian asks my little girl.

  “No, I told my Daddy that I needed a Hello Kitty bag this year. He’s going to buy me all kinds of stuff today for school.” Good Lord, I never had a chance.

  “Well, what a lucky little girl you are. Where are your mommy and daddy, sweetheart?”

  “He was right behind me; he’s probably trying to sneak some of my stuff out of the cart,” she explains.

  Well shit, how do I have a toddler that is one-step ahead of me? There’s only one of me; that doesn’t seem quite fair.

  “Well, I think we should go find him so he’s not worried.”

  I know that my opportunity for eavesdropping is over, so I turn the corner to see a sight that I only could have dreamed of. Grace is holding Vivian’s hand, smiling up at her. Holding Grace’s other hand is a little girl with adorable blonde tendrils that bounce as she moves, and on the opposite side of Vivian stands a little boy who looks just a little older than the girls. Fuck, I wish this was my life, that this was my family.

  “Munchkin, you left me behind. You were supposed to be by the markers,” I tell her. I strain not to smile at Vivian’s incredulous expression. She is clearly surprised to not only see me, but I’m guessing that she was not expecting me to be a father. Yeah, join the club.

  Grace looks to me, unsure of how to explain herself; she then looks to Vivian to help bail her out.

  “Um, I’m sorry, we were just going to go look for you. She was telling me all about the backpack she’s getting for school,” Vivian clarifies.

  “Thank you for taking care of her, Vivian,” I tell her before turning my attention to Grace. “Looks like you found an ally, Lovebug. Don’t run off like that again though; do you understand? That’s not safe.”

  Grace nods her head and steps forward to give me a hug. I pat her back and mouth ‘thank you’ once again to Vivian. She whispers ‘you’re welcome’ and smiles at me, the same smile that turned my world upside-down so many times in the past.

  “We haven’t finished picking out our backpacks; would you guys like to help us?” Vivian asks, and then introduces her crew. “Brooks, this is my daughter, Emma, and my son, Blake. Em is in preschool too, and Blake will be starting kindergarten this year.”

  “Well, guys, we would love some help picking something out; apparently I’m not up-to-date on what is hip.” I wrap my arm around Grace, pulling her into my side to tickle her. “Grace here has informed me that I need assistance in the cool factor area.”

  I see Vivian’s eyes widen when she hears the name of my daughter. I never told Grace who she was named after, just that it was for someone that I cared for. The shocked realization stretches all over Vivian’s face, and the faint blush that is extending up her neck proves her unease with the situation.

  “Grace, it’s very nice to meet you; that is a very pretty name you have.” The last bit is directed straight at me, and I can feel the heat of her glare.

  “Thank you. My daddy named me after someone special, and he said that he wants me to grow up and be just as wonderful and beautiful as her one day.”

  Vivian’s face softens, and the corners of her lips begin to curl up. When she bends down to meet Grace’s eye level, I hear her whisper in her ear, “You already are beautiful and wonderful, Ms. Grace.” When she pulls away, I can see the tears in her eyes.

  When I gave Grace Vivian’s middle name, I really had never thought they would ever meet. Seeing these two together now, the girl of my past and the little girl of my present, I realize that I need to do whatever it takes to have both of them in my future.

  I smile at Vivian and reach for her hand, hoping that she doesn’t pull away. I don’t think I could handle her rejection. The things she said at the reunion last week stung like hell. Knowing that she still believes the lie I told her nearly a decade ago, I don’t blame her for hating me, but dammit if I don’t want to tell her the truth and make her love me again.

  I can’t help but hold my breath, waiting for her to deliberate on whether or not being near me is a good decision. Relief floods my system when she allows her hand to meet mine, and I weave our fingers together. This is where her hand should be, where it always should have been–wrapped in mine.

  Vivian

  We find the crucial items that apparently all four and six-year-olds need to start school, we load our children into our cars, and agree to meet at the playground nearby to let the kids play. However, I can’t seem to put the car in drive.

  As we walked up and down the aisles of the store hand-in-hand, I felt safe again. Every time he would let his thumb lightly feather across my knuckles, my stomach would flutter, making me want to let go of all my hesitations. I’ve had a week to settle myself with the grenade of information that Jen had thrown at me, and I’m still not sure if I want to run or tighten my grip.

  Brooks had been the first one I ever let my walls down for. But once I let him into the fortress of my heart, not only did he invade it, but he burned it to the ground. I’m reluctant to believe that we can rise above the ashes and trust each other again. Even though I know he never cheated on me, he lied, and the betrayal feels the same. I just wish he had trusted me back then with the secret he was hiding. More than anything, I worry that if faced with similar circumstances, he would run again. How many lies would he tell before he would face the truth?

  “Mom, they are going to beat us there; let’s go!” Blake shouts from the backseat, snapping me out of my daydream.

  “Sorry, sweetie, I was just thinking about how nice Brooks and Grace were to help us out today,” I say, shifting the car into gear and sliding out of our parking space.

  “I like Grace a lot; she was so funny. Can she maybe stay over?” Emma asks while she insistently zips and unzips her new backpack. Of course, Hello Kitty just like Grace’s.

  I think about that question for a minute, letting my mind wonder where it probably shouldn’t in terms of adult sleepovers, before stumbling through an answer. “Um, baby, I’m not sure Brooks would be okay letting Grace spend the night; we just met her. But maybe once we get to know them a little better.”

  “I think Brooks likes you, Momma,” Em says, completely changing the subject.

  “Yeah, he kept holding your hand and smiling at you the way Dad used to,” Blake adds.

  His comment makes me pause again, but instead of thinking about alone-time with a very sexy man, I’m thinking about Will and what we lost, how having someone new in my life–whether it’s Brooks or not–impacts my children, and how every man will always be compared to their father.

  My throat tenses, and I struggle to take a deep breath to get myself under control before I answer them. “Oh, guys, Brooks and I used to be very good friends,” I say, swallowing my grief. I pull the car over on a side street, and turn around to face them in the backseat.

  “Brooks is my friend, and it’s okay for you to be friends with both him and Grace, too. No matter who we let on the team, guys, no one will ever replace your daddy. He loved you, and you loved him; nothing will ever change that, all right?”

  I grab both of their hands and give them a little reassuring squeeze. Both of them smile and nod; their acceptance a
nd innocence astounds me.

  I turn back around, and we make it to the park quickly. As they predicted, Brooks and Grace are already there. Grace is on the swings and when I park, both kids jump out and race over to her.

  “Push us, please, Brooks?” Emma asks.

  “Yeah, an underdog,” Blake adds as they each climb onto a swing.

  Obliging the trio, Brooks takes turns pushing them until they are flying high, all of them shrieking with excitement. “Okay, guys, give him a break. Go play while Brooks and I sit over on the bench and watch.”

  He leaves the whining children, agreeing to push them more after his rest. He follows me to the bench on the edge of the playground and sits next to me. After my conversation with Jen, I knew at some point I would have to really talk to Brooks. Now that the moment is here, though, I’m overwhelmed with a nervous feeling for where the conversation could lead.

  “Before you say anything, Brooks, I have a few things I need to get off my chest,” I say, fighting back the fear and deciding to dive right in. “I spoke with Jen after the reunion, and she told me everything.”

  Brooks’ head snaps up, his eyes locking on mine. I see the fear settling in them. He starts to speak, but I cover his mouth with my fingertips. “No, let me finish; I need to say this.”

  He closes his eyes, his scowl deepening, and his worry showing through. He nods, and I begin to take my hand away, but he opens his eyes and catches my wrist, bringing my palm to his lips. Letting a soft kiss linger on my skin, I feel goose bumps pour across my body. He then entwines our fingers and lays them on his thigh.

  I take a deep breath, attempting to compose myself. “Please, I need you to hear this.”