Say you love me

Part 31

John stared at the picture he held in his hand. The little girl in the picture was smiling, showing a mouthful of tiny, pearly teeth. Her little blue coveralls were dirty, streaked with mud. Probably from playing. She was standing in the middle of a yard, holding a handful of purple wildflowers. A black Labrador was laying on the ground, chewing on a stray flower.

Was this really his daughter? She looked so much like Christine. The back of the picture said: Pearl in the backyard. Age 3, August 18, 1974. John could recognize Christine's loopy cursive in a dark room.

She sent him letters and pictures from time to time, giving him updates about the little girl called Pearl. John always wondered, why Pearl? Out of all the possible names in the world, why did Christine name their daughter Pearl? Maybe because of that Janis Joplin album?

But, still. The very first letter came the day after she was born, he still had it. He had every letter she sent him. He still read them over, and he knew every word by heart.
Her name is Pearl, and she's so cute, John...
She looked at me and I saw so much of you, she's so sweet and adorable...
But the words that hurt the most were; I had to leave, John. You and I both know that. We wanted different things and I had to get out. I still think of you every day and miss you, I haven't taken off my wedding ring.

I still love her, John thought. Why didn't I love her better while I still had her? That question still kept him up at night.

He'd never seen Pearl in person, and that was because he was too scared. Scared that she wouldn't like him, scared to find out if she didn't. Scared to see Christine again in this formal way, scared to see if she's moved on. Wouldn't be surprised if she has, why would she wait around for a sad old fuck like me?

John set the picture down. His hands shook as he thought about what he should do. He knew it was selfish to let Christine raise their daughter all by herself, but how could he step in now without things being awkward? They definitely would be awkward.

He'd definitely be a better parent than three years ago, that's for sure. Three years ago he drank so much he couldn't remember his own name, and he drove his wife away. The memories were blurred through a haze of Jack Daniel's and Coors lights, but they were there, painful reminders of the past.

The toilet was making a funny noise. Like something was stuck in it, not the usual stuff, but something else. Something that scraped. Chris took off the top lid and stared inside at the toilet tank. All she could think was, John, is life with me really this bad? Inside the toilet tank was a fifth of vodka, floating in the water.

John glanced at the phone on his nightstand, wondering if he should call Christine. He wanted to, wanted to call and see her, apologize for everything and undo the last three empty years. See her again, see Pearl, be a family.

But would Christine answer if she knew it was him calling?