After rocking Fallon for a good thirty minutes, she finally drifted off to sleep. I wished that I could do the same, but not when Isaac was due to arrive within the next few hours.
I placed her back in the crib and watched her for a few moments before flying into action. My apartment was a disaster, cluttered with magazines and a wide array of take-out boxes. Fallon had come five days early. I had planned to have the house clean by the time she arrived, but things never work the way they’re supposed to.
It took me twenty minutes to make the place look presentable, throwing much of it into my closet or kicking it under the bed. I checked on Fallon again. She was a perfect angel in her pink footie pajamas. her gentle breaths causing her tiny chest to rise and fall ever so slightly. I brushed the tips of my fingers over the wisps of brown hair on her head, and found the skin beneath to be unimaginably soft.
My sore body welcomed the hot water of the shower as it washed over me. I hadn’t noticed the pain since I got Isaac’s message, but after being on my feet cleaning, parts of me ached worse than I ever could have imagined. What a sight I was, all swollen and bruised and stitched.
I got ready in the living room area so I could be close to Fallon. I pulled my way into an old pair of jeans, ones loose enough to still fit my baby body, and a zip-up hooded sweatshirt over a cami. It was not a night to impress.
Fallon was ready to eat by the time I was finished putting on some makeup. As I sat in my favorite chair and held her close, I wondered what would soon transpire in the room. The thought of what his reaction might be terrified me.
Would he be happy? That was doubtful, at least at first. No, the most likely reaction was surprise laced with anger. Hell, that had been my reaction at first. Neither of us were really in the position to be parents, but apparently some higher power thought we were.
At that moment, I wished I was a religious person. Then at least I would have had something to turn to—something to make me believe that everything would be okay. Even my faith in myself was slipping away as each minute passed.
Once Fallon was full, I put her back down and was grateful the crib was in the corner of the room. Maybe that would buy me a few minutes to explain before he noticed. If she kept sleeping, that was.
The clock read 7:06 when there was a knock on the door. My stomach dropped to my knees, and I took a long look at Fallon. This is it, kid, I thought, hoping to gain strength from her presence. I took a long, deep breath and walked towards the door. The metal of the doorknob shocked my fingers as I touched it, causing me to curse out loud.
“Everything all right in there?” Isaac laughed through the door.
“Just peachy,” I grumbled, grabbing the knob again and pulling it towards me. He stood there with a bag of food and a smile on his face. Damn that smile, I thought, It’s what started all of this.
“Well hello,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my cheek.
“Hi, Isaac,” I said, taking the bag of food from him.
“You look great,” he said, following me to the table and taking a seat with his back to Fallon, much to my relief. If she would just stay asleep, then maybe I would actually get a chance to explain myself.
“So do you,” I said sincerely, “What’d you bring?”
“Orange chicken, almond chicken, fried rice, and two order of crab rangoon. Sound good?”
“You have no idea.” He just smiled and started to dish himself a plate. We chatted idly for a few minutes, talking about his tour and the odds of the Yankees having a strong upcoming season, before he asked the dreaded question.
“So, Julianne, what did you need to talk to me about?”
I froze. I knew right then that I couldn’t tell him. I sat there staring at him for a good twenty seconds before it happened. Across the room, Fallon declared her presence in a demanding wail.
Isaac whipped around and gaped at the crib while I got up to get her. I started to cry as soon as my back was to him, the hormones overtaking me. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to find out this way. Not as a surprise. It was going to be enough of a shock on its own. I picked her up and held her tight against my chest, too scared to turn around.
“Julianne…” he started, his voice distant and weak. I just stood there, staring out the window into the New York night. Fallon continued to cry, cranking the tension in the room to a tight, unignorable buzz.
“Julianne,” he repeated, his voice much closer now. I knew that he was walking towards me. Instinctively, I held her even tighter and kept my back towards him.
“Will you please talk to me? You’re scaring me,” he said, now speaking directly over my shoulder.
“Her name is Fallon,” I said, unable to say anything else.
“Okay, is she yours?” I sighed, trying to prepare myself. It was the time, whether I wanted it to be or not.
“Yes,” I said, the word coming out practically as a squeak.
“Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked. It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he was nervous, but trying to stay calm, probably due to the fact that he could tell I was a total wreck.
“Yes.”
“Why did you want to talk to me about this so badly?” I hesitated before talking.
“Because she isn’t just mine, Isaac. She’s ours.”
“Ours. Ours?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. She’s our daughter.”
“How do you know that? I mean, how do you know that she’s mine?” I rolled my eyes and walked away from him. What a typical man, immediately throwing her paternity doubt.
“Because I do.”
“How?” he demanded.
“Because you’re the only person I’ve been with in the last year!” I exclaimed over Fallon’s cries. He fell silent, sinking into an obvious bout of introspection. “I found out in March when I was five weeks pregnant, and guess what? You were here in January and February so even if I had been with someone else after you left–which I wasn’t–the dates wouldn’t match up. I immediately wrote you a letter, which was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do up until that point, and I sent it to the private address you gave me, which was the only way I had to get a hold of you. When I went two weeks without hearing anything, I wrote another one, and another one and another one. I wrote the last one two days ago when I was in the hospital after I had her, but I sent that one to the place your fanmail goes. It felt like my only hope of getting through to you.”
“You just had her two days ago?”
“Yeah. Her birthday is November 5th and she was born five days early.” Isaac sat down on the couch and buried his face in his hands. I sat down in the chair across from him, feeling calmed by his lack of anger, and attempted to quiet Fallon by rocking her.
“I am so sorry,” he said through his fingers.
“I’m sorry, too. I thought you were ignoring me and I hated you,” I admitted, “I didn’t want anything from you. I just wanted you to know.”
“I would have hated me, too,” he said, sitting back up, “But I swear that I never got any of your letters.”
“I guess I was supposed to do this alone,” I shrugged, trying not to show how scared I had been for the better part of the last year.
“Who was with you when you had her?”
“The nurse and doctor.” He groaned and looked like he was going to be sick.
“I can’t believe this. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. But to start, do you want to hold her?” I asked him. He looked at me, obvious pain and regret in his eyes before nodding slowly.
“More than anything,” he said.