Daddy's Eyes

She laughs as he kisses her neck. His soft lips tickle on the sensitive skin and she playfully swats him away.

"John! Joh--stop it!" she spurts between giggles. He raises his head, grinning, and gives her a kiss that they both chuckle through. She closes her eyes and murmurs her satisfaction as he pulls away.

"You can't do that," she scolds, opening her eyes and seeing his self-satisfied smirk. "I can't think when you do that." He presses his forehead to hers.

"And how..many...more things...are you gonna add...to that list?" he asks between giving her short kisses.

"Mmm, well...this...for sure." He won't stop with the staccato kisses so she pushes him off of her and rolls until she is lying on top of him. She is about to start dealing back to him when the phone rings. She plunks her head on his chest for a moment, groaning her annoyance. Then she sits up, one leg on either side of his body, and grabs the phone.

"Hello?" She is only a little distracted by the circles he is drawing on her hips with his thumbs and the silky sensations of her nightgown under his touch.

"Hi."

"Who is this?" she asks, smiling reproachingly as the man beneath her spans his hands around her waist.

"Peter." She recognizes a ten-year-old voice.

"Oh. Oh! Hi, sweetie. How are you?" She makes sure all the laughter is out of her voice. John looks up at her strangely and she rolls her eyes at his paranoia.

"Can I talk to my dad?" He sounds a little scared. She hopes she hasn't done something wrong...

"Sure thing. Just a sec." She places the receiver over her heart. 'Peter,' she mouths. John gets very stiff and clenches his jaw. He stops moving his hands and tersely shakes his head, 'no.' "Actually, can he call you back?"

"Fine." She hears the click of a receiver and turns the phone off. John sighs heavily, hands at his sides, and shifts his hips, a sign for her to move. But she's not going to let him go brood in a corner, not now.

"Talk to your son," she says quietly, placing her hands square on his chest to further prevent him from moving. He glares at her.

"What am I supposed to tell him?"

"The truth." He laughs bitterly, such a difference from a few minutes ago.

"Yeah, he's really going to understand. He's going to hate me after that, if he doesn't already."

"Then only tell him what he needs to know." She pauses for a minute and looks straight into his eyes. "He'll hate you more if you disappear without a word." She doesn't add why she knows that, because the emotion in her voice tells him more than enough.

He pulls his hands up behind his head and shifts again, trying to force her off. She sits firm.

"Look, if you don’t do it, I will, but it's not going to sound as good as it would coming from your mouth."

"It's never going to sound good!" She lowers he eyes.

"It'll sound better. The point is, he needs you, and I'm not going to let you abandon him." She sees him clench his jaw again. "That's what you're doing."

"Did I ask you to interfere?"

"Yes," she says firmly. "When you told me what was going on, you asked me to interfere. You wanted someone to talk to. Talk to him."

What looks like anger simmers in his eyes, but she knows it's really extreme pain. "Is that how it's gonna work, then? You're gonna use everything I say against me?"

"This is not about you," she insists. "This is about a scared little boy who needs his daddy. How did he even get this number? It must have taken serious searching. He wants you." John looks away, off to the side, face softening for the first time since she got off the phone.

"No, he doesn't. If he knew, he'd never..."

"Yes, he does." She cups his face and moves it back toward her. "He probably already knows. Kids pick up on things, and who knows what he's been told. He still wants you and needs you and even if he denies it, he always will. John..." She strokes his cheek and his eyes squeeze shut, like he's hoping she'll go away if he can't see her. She sees and feels him take a deep breath, which he holds for several seconds.

"Fine," he eventually says, letting the air go. "Fine." His eyes open wide. "I'll do it." She smiles in a way that tells him that she is proud and kisses him softly on the forehead. Then she reaches for the phone but his hand stops her. "Just give me a minute, to think about what I'm going to say." She nods and gets off of him, thinking that now is a good time to give him personal space. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits with his back facing her for a few seconds. Then he stands and she catches his nearest hand with hers.

"Hey." She kisses the back, looking up into his eyes. "I love you." He nods.

"I know." Then he disappears into the bathroom, grabbing some clothes on the way.

She lies back and sighs, hoping she's doing the right thing. She knows in her gut that this needs to happen, but the expressions on his face are killing her. And it is his decision to make. She hopes she's not being too pushy.

Well, if she is he deserves it. He's gone long enough without telling Peter the truth, and she won't stand for it anymore. She just wishes it didn't have to hurt everyone involved so much. But they're all made their choices, and the only truly innocent one is Peter.

John reemerges, still in just his sleep pants, and she wonders why he bothered picking up his clothes if he wasn't going to get dressed. Then she smells the cigarettes he doesn't usually smoke until much later in the day and understands. He sits down on the bed again, back still to her, and sighs, running his fingers over his stubble. She shuffles up behind him on her knees and tentatively kisses his shoulder. It’s a relief when he lets her, and even rests his head against hers for a second.

When he picks up the phone he straightens out, squaring his shoulders, elongating his spine. She sees a mask go up as he waits for his son to answer, and now the only indications that he's at all scared are the white knuckles on the hand that grips the phone.

"Peter?" It's your father." He can't remain strong on all fronts and sacrifices control over visible tremors for a calm and rational voice.

“How are you?” She shakes her head at the inconsequential question. He has a mission to complete. She reaches around his back to hold and squeeze his free hand. He squeezes hers in response.

“That’s, um…well. Did…did you call before?” His back sinks down a little. “Oh. Well, uh, I guess….I guess we should talk about why I’m not living with you any more.” There is a long pause in which his head slowly descends until it’s hanging down, looking straight at the floor. “Pete,” he says softly. It’s one of the most heartbreaking things she’s ever seen. “Pete, that’s not true.” Pause. Then, like a whimper: “No.” She feels her eyes well up.

“No, I…I’d like to stay but…” He rubs viciously at his forehead, pulling his hand out of her grasp. She panics at the loss of connection. “I can’t,” he says, with a certain finality that scares her. “Why? Pete, you know…OK, because…because I’ve been fooling around.” He sounds so, so bitter. Right now she wouldn’t be surprised if he jumped off the balcony after he hung up.

“No, she’s not a prostitute!” he barks, suddenly regaining control and sitting up straight. “Don’t you ever—” She gets in front of his face, motioning wildly for him to stop. ‘Let him,’ she mouths, pleading. She doesn’t care if he calls her a whore! He just needs his father not to scream at him at this crucial point. “You shouldn’t talk about things like that, son,” he says now, still terse but so much calmer, and she relaxes a bit.

“No, that’s not true…no…look, people are going to tell you things.” He looks down at her, eyes woeful. “People are going to tell you lies,” he seems to say to her. “But you can’t believe everything you hear. I’m trying to tell you everything I can, but sometimes it’s too hard.” She lowers her eyes. He never needed to apologize. She never held it against him, because the truth was that she knew exactly what she was doing from the beginning.

“Oh, does she? I’m…sorry about that. It’s just…the most important thing for you to understand right now is that all of this has nothing to do with you. It’s all me.” He pauses for a moment, and hurt registers on his face. “Yes, of course I love you. It’s not your fault, Peter. It’s hard to explain…sometimes people get tired. But there’s no excuse for my not calling you before now,” he adds in, and she smiles a little. “Maybe one day I’ll be able to tell you everything…but…” he trails off and sounds like he’s got something big stuck in his throat. She rubs his knee from where she’s still kneeling in front of him and he takes a deep breath that looks somehow painful. “It wasn’t right of me to do any of this to you, or your mother. None of what I’ve done has been right, but you need to understand that people do make mistakes. The way I’ve acted and the way I’ve handled things has been…immature. Do you know what that means?” He listens for a moment and nods his head seriously.

“And Peter? I’m sorry to make you grow up so soon. I know you’re getting to be a big kid, but you shouldn’t have had to deal with any of this.” She feels her throat tightening and blinks, looking down because she doesn’t want to make him start either. “I love you, Pete. Don’t forget that.”

“Ok. Uh huh. I’ll…I’ll see you soon, I promise. Mmhmn. Bye.” She hears him hang up but doesn’t look up and doesn’t say anything. She sits in front of him, eyes focused on the floor, for what seems like a year. Then she feels, lightly, fingers playing with the mess of hair on the top of her head. “Thank you,” he murmurs. She looks up, attempting a smile but through her tears it looks like a grimace. His face turns concerned.

“Is everything alright?” She nods, trying to make herself believe that.

“That was just…” she can’t continue because her throat closes up entirely.

“Sweetie…” he says, compassion in his voice, and pulls her up onto the bed, where they sit against the headboard and he rests her head down on his shoulder. Her heart breaks in that moment, a little bit because he barely ever calls her nicknames like ‘sweetie,’ but mostly because after everything she’s just heard, she knows he’s too good for her. None of the other men she’s dated would have ever done what he just did with his son, and she never imagined he would do it so well. She’s not used to that kind of caring from a man, and now that she’s seen that he has it in him she knows that she doesn’t deserve it. It’s not like she’s going to just leave now, but she knows that, eventually, she’s going to do something he just can’t forgive, because that’s the kind of girl she is.

Because her daddy never told her he loved her after he left.

Because she never saw compassion in her daddy’s eyes.