The Art of Being a F*ck Up

22. Karma, Is That You?

It's no secret that I've never wanted kids. For so many reasons it's just always made the most sense, but I guess I'm alone in feeling that way. I'm sitting in an uncomfortably large office as an increasingly pregnant Lilah lies on the bed thing next to me, preparing for her ultrasound. Kind of funny, how different we can be on this one thing. I know being a mother is all she's ever really wanted, and I'm still very happy for her. Maybe that's what makes all the difference though, because I know she's going to be a great parent no matter what, and me, well, nothing good could come out of it when you stop to think about the kind of people I come from. Not that all of them are that bad, necessarily.

I wonder how Bill would've been as a parent. He's got three divorces under his belt but nothing really else to show for it, and even though he's forced to share blood with my dad, the same as me, I want to think that he would've done things better. I mean, in a lot of ways he practically raised me. At least my dad's still been kind of cool though lately, he was even fine with letting me come in late today so I could take Lilah to the doctor. Why she needed me for this I'll never know, I'm not sure if she just wanted the emotional support—even though I only have the emotional intelligence of a fucking potato—or if she just needed me to carry the bags when she dragged me shopping before this for baby Pierson.

"Brent, honey. Are you okay?" She asks, evidently still keen enough to be focused on me even when she's in the middle of having that weird gel squirted on her stomach.

"Why wouldn't I be?" I ask, a bit distracted as I stare at the screen, waiting for the ultrasound to begin. It won't be my first time seeing the baby, not exactly, she brought home pictures from when she was here last, but this is going to be different and it's got me all choked up for some reason. Lilah goes back to chatting with the technician about her baby, about how much Jason wishes he could be here if not for work. Yet I can't shake the tightness in my chest.

This would probably be a beautiful moment for literally anyone else, but right now I can't stop thinking about Maddy, about how fucking close I came to sitting in a room like this with her instead of Lilah. For a second I let my mind wander, and there's a part of me that wants to know what happened to Maddy after she got pregnant, but then the rest of me just feels sick about it. She probably would've told me, had I stayed, and now I'll probably go to hell for how fast I ran out on her the night before last, but I don't know what good it would have done anyway. It wouldn't have made a difference.

What really gets me is that all this time I had no goddamn clue, I was just going along like an idiot, trying to figure out why she hated my guts so bad, unaware that I might have a kid out there somewhere. I pray to a god that I've never believed in that I don't, even if the alternative is just as bad in some ways. To think about her going through all of that alone, it makes me as sick as learning what she's kept from me. If this shitty excuse of a life has taught me anything though, it's that sometimes there are no good choices, just varying degrees of hurt, and no matter what you do someone always ends up having to take that hurt.

I'm so shocked, and confused, and sad, and I'll admit it, I'm mad—more than mad, I'm downright pissed—just, not at her. I don't know where all this anger is supposed to go, and maybe that's what makes it harder to deal with. What I do know is that Maddy didn't deserve the way I bolted on her. I pushed her, I'm the one that forced her to relive something she had made vehemently clear was best left in the past. A painful truth, one she obviously still carries with her, and one that has cost her a great deal. Yet another reason why I don't want kids, how shitty were her parents to disown her when she needed them the most?

She didn't have anybody.

She tried texting me yesterday, and I know I shouldn't be ignoring her, but this tightness in my chest is only getting worse and I have no idea what I'd even say. I guess I was stupid for thinking things would be great after I proposed to Jonah, it's only unearthed so much that was better left buried. Like the truth about Maddy, or how I still can't figure out how to tell my family that I'm engaged. This is so fucking dumb, I swear I'm having coming out flashbacks while I'm sitting here trying not to break out in a cold sweat, watching Lilah and the baby and seeing how much of a good thing this is supposed to be.