41 - But For the Grace of God

“You’ve got kids?” 

Jon was surprised, solely because he’d never heard mention of that from either her or Petra.  In fact, they’d both specifically told him at Madison Square Garden that Delaney had no one waiting for her at home.  Maybe that meant they were adult daughters?

It really didn’t make that much of a difference to him either way.  He had four kids of his own, after all.

What if she has eight? 

Keeping eight kids under wraps wasn’t likely, but even if there were ten, it still didn’t have any bearing on the situation.   Jon liked Delaney, and it would take more than daughters to sever their relationship or friendship.

“Mm.”  Twisting her torso, she placed the now empty glass on the side table and glanced his way.  “You asked about my tattoo last time I came here.”

“Yeah.”

The purple Gemini tattoo that she’d identified as the astrological sign of the twins.  The one he’d presumed was a reference to her and Petra.

“My twin daughters were born under Gemini.” The meaning behind her chosen design was stated simply while she scratched a thumbnail along the denim seam inside her thigh.  “Violet and Poppy.”

“Flowers,” he noted with a smile, and then remembered Geoff mentioned a Poppy earlier. 

Her eyes shifted from the denim, and when they connected with his, Jon was engulfed by a cloud of gray wistfulness.   Whatever the story with her daughters, it wasn’t a happy one.

“Yeah.  I’ve always liked flowers.  Poppy’s given name is Penelope, but she doesn’t go by either one nowadays.  Calls herself Zoi.  Sounds the same as Zoe Kravitz or Zooey Deschanel but is spelled Z-O-I.  Greek for ‘life’.”  Laughing, Delaney hopped up and snagged her glass, seeming uncharacteristically self-conscious.  “Not sure why I told you that.  It’s the booze rambling, I guess.” 

He’d assumed she went to the bar in search of another drink, but the bottle remained untouched.  All she did was carefully set the empty inside the bar sink and turn to lean against it.  From across the room, he could see that wistfulness had been overtaken by purpose as she faced him with crossed arms. 

“I got drunk at a frat party my senior year of college,” came out as casually as the weather report.  “Slept with a guy whose name I barely knew and went home pregnant.  Papa was devastated.  Ma was… what any mother would be, I guess.  She said, ‘children are blessings and we won’t be cursin’ no blessings in my house’, and that was that.  After I got my art and education degrees, I moved back in with my parents and younger brother.  Two weeks later, these two beautiful little girls came into my life.  They weren’t on anyone’s schedule, but they were loved beyond measure.” 

“What about the father?”

He couldn’t imagine anyone walking out on their kids.  Who the hell did that? 

“It turned out that our encounter was doubling as his bachelor party.  He was married by the time the pee stick turned pink and wanted nothing to do with me or the girls.  I haven’t seen him since the day I told him.”

Single mothers weren’t unheard of in this day and time.  They were far too common, in fact, but the image of Delaney struggling with two babies didn’t sit well with Jon.  He rose from the couch and joined her at the bar, reaching around her to deposit his own glass in the sink before settling light hands at her waist. 

“That couldn’t have been easy, even with family.  Two babies are a handful.”

“Yeah, but they were such good babies, I didn’t mind.  I got my teaching job that fall in a school near the house.  Ma would watch the girls while I was working.  It wasn’t a bad situation.”

“How long before Geoff came into the picture?”

While Delaney let Jon touch her, she didn’t make a move to touch him.  Both arms stayed firmly pretzeled together as she answered, “The girls were four when we got married.  They were so young, that they almost couldn’t remember a time without him.  He adopted them and was their father in all the ways that mattered for fifteen years.  Daddy/daughter dances, swimming lessons, ballet, tea parties.  He really was amazing with them. 

“They asked about their biological father once, when they were about thirteen.  I didn’t feel like they needed to hear that their sperm donor was too douchey to man up and do right by his kids, so I embellished.  Told them they were my girls and that I didn’t want to share them until I found a daddy that deserved to have two perfect daughters. 

“That satisfied them, and they attached to Geoff all the more.  Science projects to prom dress shopping, he was there for it all.”

“Sounds like he wasn’t always an anus.”

A rueful smirk summoned one of her dimples.  “Not always, and never around the girls.  When they left for college, he told me he’d only been staying the last few years for them.  Since they were out of the nest, he was too.  Enter Miss Teeny Bopper and her wide-spread legs and cue the beginning of the end.

“Needless to say, news of the divorce did not go over well with Violet and Poppy, and I took the brunt of the blame.  I’d denied them their biological father – so much for sparing their feelings – and was responsible for the loss of their Daddy.”

“Now wait a minute.  These were Geoff’s kids.  Surely, he didn’t just walk off and leave them without another word.”

That was worse than the baby daddy blowing them off.  This guy had made himself a huge part of their lives, from the sound of it.  He couldn’t just abandon those girls, aardvark anus or not.  If he had, Jon was going to find the guy and break his nose.

“No, but he was very much into his new girlfriend,” she explained with a shrug.  “So, he wasn’t there doting on them like they’d grown accustomed to.  I got the blame for that one, too.  And in case you didn’t know, being outspoken and opinionated is not a recessive trait.  Both girls got it in spades.”

He couldn’t fathom that being anything but ugly.  Young adults in that awkward spot between childhood and adulthood were notorious for knowing everything and for sharing that knowledge at the drop of a hat.  They seldom considered that they might be wrong and still fought with an immature vengeance that had the power to mortally wound a parent.

 Jon had his fair share of scars from those kinds of confrontations, and he winced with empathetic pain.  “And how did that turn out?”

Delaney’s lids lowered, and she focused on aimlessly rubbing her forearm.  “Not good.  I haven’t seen Poppy in five years.  She still lives in Chicago and is in contact with Geoff, as you may have gathered from his snide anussy-ness earlier.  The rest of the family has been pretty much disowned just to hurt me, although she did send my parents a Christmas card last year.  It gives me hope.”

The girl was what… in her twenties now?  That was adult enough to understand divorce and relationships just didn’t work out.   Something wasn’t reading right here. 

“That seems a little over the top,” he posed cautiously, in case he wasn’t getting the full picture.  “Why such an extreme reaction to divorce?  Especially since Geoff is still around.”

She continued the absent rubbing but lifted her face to his.  “Poppy is very calculating in everything she does.  She gathers all the facts and weighs the pros and cons before taking action.  She feels perfectly justified in her stance.”

He still thought it was weird, but pushed forward with, “Well, what about Violet?”

“Violet was my impulsive child,” she told him quietly.  “She was the one who would blow up, throw a fit and get over it.  She didn’t get a chance to get past the fit that time.”

A chill of premonition straightened the hair at the back of Jon’s neck.  “What do you mean?”

“I, uh…. I’d always been pretty strict with them, mostly because they were conceived at a drunken party, I guess.  This whole divorce thing came over Memorial Day weekend.  Some of the kids she’d gone to school with were having a party, and she went – dragging her sister along – knowing it would make me as angry as she was.  I’m pretty sure she took the heroin to spite me, but ended up spiting herself.  Violet overdosed and Poppy watched her die.  That’s why I’m persona non grata in her book.  She blames me for that, too.” 

Jon’s heart cramped, the seizing of muscle making it impossible to beat.    

But for the grace of God, that could’ve been his story.  No, his daughter hadn’t done anything out of anger, but she overdosed just the same.  The only difference between his daughter and Delaney’s was the infinitesimal line between life and death – Violet crossed over it while Stephanie didn’t. 

Steph had just called Daddy to come and get her from the hospital.  It was a sickening night when he got that call, and the days and weeks that came after were painful, but Jon hadn’t buried his baby girl.  Delaney had, and he couldn’t fathom what kind of pain that carried.

The blood kicked painfully back into his chest, thumping in an excruciating rhythm that he hadn’t known for years.  That he hadn’t wanted to ever know again. 

Thank you, God.

It felt selfish to be grateful in the face of what this spunky little woman had been through, but he couldn’t not be grateful.  His daughter was alive, well and thriving.

“I’m sorry.”  Delaney’s soft apology intruded upon his horrific thoughts.  With damp eyes, she finally unfolded her arms to rest a light hand on the exposed section of his chest.  “That probably brings back bad memories for you.”

And she feels sorry for me.

“A few, but I didn’t lose my daughter.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” she emphasized with a feeble smile.  “It’s not something I’d wish on anyone."

“Christ, baby.”  Jon couldn’t stand there any longer without channeling his gratitude into some kind of solace.  It was five years late, but he folded her close to his chest and squeezed until he felt her fisting the back of his shirt.  “I’m so sorry.  God, you don’t know how sorry.”

“Don’t.” Feminine hands that had just been knotted in shirt fabric wedged between them so she could dish out a stern look.  Her eyes were glassy but no tears fell as she thickly explained, “It’s my reality and I’ve learned to live with it.  Tearing the scabs off doesn’t help, and I don’t thrive on sympathy.  There was no way to tell you about Geoff and the tattoo without telling you about the girls.  That’s all.”

“I don’t give a fuck whether you thrive on it or not,” he growled, cinching arms tight and tucking her head into his shoulder.  “Just stand there and take it.”

In some ridiculous way, he needed to hold her and thank her for being brave enough to withstand a loss of that magnitude.  For all he knew, her loss may have been the only thing maintaining balance in the universe and allowing him to keep his kid. 

They’d already talked about what a shitty year 2013 was, but what hadn’t been said was that he felt lucky to make it out alive.  If the overdose had taken Stephanie, he wouldn’t have made it.  Jon knew that as well as he knew his own name.

“Is this for you or for me?” she mumbled into his shoulder, arms snaking around his waist and finding a comfortable spot.

“Both.”

He held her with gratitude, with appreciation, and with an empathy only someone who’d been in that fight could understand.   Of all the fucking things to have in common, this wasn’t what Jon would’ve chosen to share with Delaney, but there it was and would always be.