Page 8 of I Think He Knows
I drive forward as fast as one can reasonably go between orange cones in an elementary school parking lot, then screech to a halt outside the front doors before turning around to look at Legs. “Honey, you didn’t tell me there was going to be a daddy daughter campout.”
Allegra shakes her head but doesn’t reply.
Keisha smiles and tugs on her braids. “My daddy’s bringing stuff for s’mores. And he got me a new unicorn sleeping bag.”
Allegra’s mouth presses in a thin line, but I don’t miss the little wobble in her chin.
I swallow.
As a single mom, I’ve always struggled with mom guilt—constantly questioning whether I’m enough, and if there are things I’m not giving my daughter that she needs. My brothers have been invaluable in filling that father figure spot in so many ways, but Allegra’s old enough now to understand that her biological father is noticeably absent from her life.
“Do you want to ask Uncle Liam or Uncle Luke to come with you?”
“They’re not my daddy.”
“No, but they both love you very much and love doing these things with you. And I know it’s not quite the same as having your actual dad there, but—”
“I don’t wanthimthere, Mom. I don’t even know him.”
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a touch relieved at this statement. But now, I’m confused as to what shedoeswant. “So?” I coax gently.
“I was waiting to see how your date tonight goes.”
I blink. “My… date?”
“Yeah.” Allegra unclips her seatbelt. “I thought I might have a new daddy by the time the campout comes around.”
“You thought you might have a new daddy…” I repeat dumbly.
“That’s what dates are for, right? To find someone to marry.”
Oh, man.
I lick my lips, then slowly say, “Well, I guess, but—”
“Can I go to school now?” she interrupts.
“Of course. But we should talk about this later, okay?”
Another shrug. “Sure.”
I watch as she and Keisha clatter up the pathway to the main doors, Keisha hiking her leggings up, and Legs dragging her backpack along the concrete behind her. I remember the days when I used to carry her backpack for her, holding her hand as I dropped her off for preschool.
How did my baby girl get so big?
Allegra Liana Donovan was born on March 18th, two days after I turned eighteen. Six pounds, three ounces of pink skin and shell-like ears and tiny fingers and toes. Perfect, complete joy and sheer terror. At the time, I had no idea that I’d named her after a non-drowsy antihistamine medication. Turns out, a TV commercial for the drug was playing while I attempted to push through each stomach-splitting contraction, huffing gas and uttering every curse word I’d ever heard in my life.
And Legs—as my brother Liam so charmingly nicknamed her from the get-go—was a fussy, colicky baby with a serious aversion to sleep in all forms. Thank goodness for my mother, who’d been a single mom since my parents divorced when I was little. She died when Legs was just a few months old, but for the short time she was here on earth as both a mother and grandmother, she made the prospect of being a mother myself much less scary. Helped me to realize I could still flourish and grow as both my own person and as a mom.
I didn’t graduate high school, but I did end up getting my GED a while later (thank the good Lord above for the world-renowned child hypnotist known as Cocomelon), while my ex, Steven, partied it up at Central Georgia State and didn’t visit his daughter once. Or anytime since. Last I heard, he was nursing a nasty case of herpes.
Just kidding.
Well, more like hoping. Past tense.
I’ve done a lot of therapy since then. Moved past wanting him to hurt for how he hurt me.
I mean, I no longer wish herpes on him… but maybe a bout of explosive diarrhea. Or two.