Gay Daddies

A Present for Daddy-6

Leo’s started life as a sports bar, but when Dave and I walk in, there’s only one TV above the bar and it’s tuned to the Weather Channel. I hear a forecast for snow and glance up as we pass the screen, but they’re talking about somewhere out west, not us. Of course not. It’s cold but it isn’t that cold. Still, I say to Dave, “Snow would be nice. Jenna would love a white Christmas.”

He laughs as he leads the way to an empty booth in the back. “In theory, yes. But if there’s a huge storm and the power goes out, leaving us in the dark, then what?”

“Then we’re screwed.” I slide into the seat across the table from him and reach for a menu. “Plus then where’s she going to ride her new bike? Not in my mother’s house, that’s for sure.”

A waitress approaches. Dave orders two beers on tap, then gives me a quizzical look. “You want to share some nachos or something?” I ask. Then something catches my eye. “Ooh, chili cheese fries. Let’s do that.”

When we’re alone again, Dave stares at me for a long moment. The silence between us is almost uncomfortable—we haven’t seen each other in so long, I feel the need to fill the space with chatter, but what? We dispensed with the small talk in the toy store—where we’re working, how our families are, stuff like that. I should tell him about Julia, I know I should. I know he wants to know what happened there, but I don’t want to be the one to bring it up. She ruined too much between us in the past. I don’t want her to spoil tonight, too.

Finally he gives me a tight grin. “So, Jenna…”

“She’s seven,” I say quickly, grateful he thought of something to talk about. Something that isn’t Julia. We’ll get there eventually, I know, but I want a drink or three in my system first. But my daughter, that’s a different story. “Cute, isn’t she? When Julia was pregnant, she used to say the baby was a little bean inside her. It sounds silly now, but every time the baby would kick or move, she said she felt like she’d swallowed a Mexican jumping bean, so that sort of became our nickname for her, even before she was born. Jenna-Bean, or Beanie, or the Bean, you know. She doesn’t really like it now. I think she thinks it’s babyish. I think it’s cute.”

For a moment, I think I’m rambling. But Dave’s smile widens and I relax. “Seven, eh? She looks like you.”

I shrug. “You think? I always thought she looked like Julia.”

“She has your eyes,” he says. “Your chin. Hey, here come our beers.”

The waitress brings us two mugs of dark ale with foamy heads and a huge plate of fries smothered in hot chili and melted nacho cheese. “You boys enjoy.”

I sip the beer, savoring the bitter aftertaste. “What about you?” I ask Dave. “Any kids.”

As he dives into the fries, he says, “Nope. Never really wanted any. And before you ask, I’m not seeing anyone, either.”

“Any ex-wives out there?” I tease.

He grins through a mouthful of fries. “Not me. How about you?”

And here it is. Julia. “Not yet,” I admit. “The papers are sitting in my suitcase back at my mother’s house just waiting to be signed.”

“What’s the hold up?” Dave asks. “You think you want to work it out?”

There’s no working it out. As briefly as I can, I tell him what happened—how I came home from work one evening to an empty house, a note on the kitchen counter saying she couldn’t do it any more. It’d been fun at first, she wrote, but I’m still too young to be your old lady. I can’t, Bob. I’m sorry. I just can’t.

Jenna was at the neighbor’s; I rushed over and collected her, then ordered a pizza while I waited for Julia to come home. I stayed up half the night, rising every time a car slowed by the house. She’d done this to me before, walked out for a few hours, drove around town to clear her head and get her thoughts in order. This was the same thing, I told myself. The note meant nothing.

But she didn’t come home that night, or the next. I kept expecting Jenna to ask me where her mommy went, but she didn’t. Finally I asked her what had happened. “Mommy went away,” she told me. “She said she loves me but she couldn’t stay. When do you think she’s coming back?”

“She just up and left?” Dave asks, incredulous. “No calls, no e-mails, nothing?”

I shake my head. “Beginning of the summer, she walks out. Leaves me with a little girl I have to watch after, you know? It’s hard being the only parent. I had to cut back my hours at work so I could take her to school and pick her up, do the shopping, do everything. Then they made some cutbacks and I lost my job. I was on unemployment for a few months, but it barely paid the bills.”

Dave’s voice is low and vicious. “The b***h. I never did like her, you know.”

“No, really?” I laugh into my beer. “I couldn’t tell.”

* * * *

Senior year, Julia transferred to our high school. I thought she was gorgeous—almond-shaped eyes an unusually pale shade of gray and long, straight, dark blonde hair that fell in one solid wave to just above the small of her back. Slim, short, what people call “petite.” But she was a party girl at heart, always wearing jeans and T-shirts, not into labels and fashion much like the others. She liked the same music Dave and I did, and she was always up for another round of drinks or a ride around town, anything to get out, keep moving, feel alive.

She came between the two of us in a way no one else ever did. When she was around, no one else existed for me, and looking back, I know I was a bit of a d**k about the whole thing, but at the time, I just thought Dave was jealous. Julia and I hung out together all the time, and every now and then we’d invite him along. Before she arrived on the scene, it’d been just us guys, no one else. Now she had all my attention, and Dave hated her for it.

Still, he came along when I invited him. He didn’t want to lose the friendship we’d built during our high school years. When I found out she was pregnant, just after graduation, Dave was the first person I told, before I even told my parents. He was even the best man at our wedding, though as I recall, he never even bothered to look at the bride. He kept his gaze on me, and his toast at the reception didn’t really mention Julia at all.

College was tough. Julia stayed home with the baby and I took classes full-time, as well as worked part-time to make ends meet. After I graduated, Jenna was old enough to go to daycare, then started nursery school, then kindergarten. With her out of the house during the day, Julia started taking classes, too. Suddenly she was acting like a giddy co-ed rather than a new mom. There were keg parties at frat houses, a sorority rush, football games, the whole experience. If I said anything, Julia would sulk and stay home for a week or two before starting up again. Going out, staying out late, coming home in the middle of the night drunk and giggly.

More than once, she told me she missed being a kid. Playing, having fun, shirking responsibility. She didn’t like having someone depend on her—not Jenna, not me. She wanted to be free. I let her run when she had to, and eventually she would pull herself together and come crawling back. I thought she always would.

I thought wrong.

* * * *

“Last I heard from her was the divorce papers,” I tell Dave. At some point the waitress brought a second beer, but I didn’t notice. Now I drown the last suds of my first mug and find another full glass waiting at my elbow, so I dive into that, too. “I don’t even know where she is, how sad is that? Her lawyer’s in northern Virginia, but where the hell is she?”

Dave sighs. “I always said she was no good for you. Didn’t I?”

“Not in so many words…”

He gives me a sardonic look. “Hello? I said she was w*********h. I said she was a party w***e. I said—”

“All right, already,” I concede, throwing out a favorite phrase of his. “I was wrong, okay? I admit it. But I got a wonderful daughter out of the deal, so it wasn’t all bad.”

“What’s she like?” Dave wants to know.

I sip my beer. “Jenna? You’d love her. Everyone does. She’s like the best I could ever ask for. The sun rises and sets on her, as far as I’m concerned. How her mother could just up and leave—”

“She’s a b***h,” Dave interjects. When I frown at him, he clarifies, “Julia. She’s a b***h. End of story. You deserve better.”

“Jenna deserves better,” I say.

Dave shrugs. “She already has better. She has you. But who do you have?”

I don’t know. My parents? My daughter?

A large hand covers mine, his fingers warm as they squeeze my wrist. “You have me, now. You’ve always had me.”

Tears prick my eyes and I blink them away. “Dave, I…”

I was awful to him, I know it. Letting Julia come between us. Drifting away after high school. Forgetting to keep in touch. I pull my hand out from under his. “You deserve better, too,” I murmur, my voice quiet between us.

He takes my hand again, holding tight this time so I can’t pull away. “I never wanted anything else.”