Chapter 46

Chapter Forty-Six

Calvin

A frisbee zips past my head, when the intercom buzzes. My life is pure pandemonium. Blissfully so. I'm expecting a delivery of clothes and school supplies for Chacha. Unless I'm forced to go to the mall, I'll rely on online shopping. Figuring out sizes and how much to buy are not part of my skill set. If only I had someone to help with this kind of stuff.

I punch the intercom button and check on Chacha. Having abandoned the frisbee, he's sitting in his pajamas, a foot away from the television screen, his jaw slack, his eyes glazing over, watching old Flintstones cartoons. I'll need to set some limits. I make a mental note to speak with other parents and ask them for advice.

A bowl of cold oatmeal is on the kitchen table, untouched. "Go eat your breakfast, sweetheart."

No reaction. The boy is hypnotized.

The doorbell to my apartment chimes and I fling open the door.

Caroline stands there, her eyes wide, a bag in her hand. "Hi," she says, looking as stunned as I feel.

"Um, hi."

She looks beautiful, calmer, the lines around her eyes, softer.

We stand in the doorway for a beat. She says, "May I come in?"

I clear my throat. "Sure, if you're okay with a tornado."

My place looks like a boatload of pirates came through, pillaging for hidden treasure.

Caroline steps inside and stops short. Chacha is standing in front of her, his hand extended. "Hullo."

Apparently, Caroline has the power to break television's hold on my child.

Caroline shakes Chacha's hand.

"Who are you?" he asks.

"Caroline Page. And you must be Chacha."

"Yes, ma'am. Chacha Sinclair. The pleasure is mine."

He's been watching too many old movies on the classics channel.

Caroline laughs lightly and my heart leaps. I move Chacha's blue and white elephant from the sofa and offer her a seat. She glances at the toy. I bought it the day I came back to town, when we stopped at the toy store. So much has happened since then.

"What brings you by?" I sound casual when I feel anything but.

She's right here, close enough to touch, but it feels like there's an ocean between us. My heart still races for her, but the cracks in our relationship remind me that love might not be enough to bridge the gap.

Yes, love.

"I found the perfect gift for you." She hands me the bag and I pull out a record cover.

"Wow."

It's a Bob Dylan vinyl collectible. "I don't have this one."

"I know."

"This was very thoughtful," I say, truly excited to own this musical gem.

"I'm so glad you like it."

Chacha must sense something in the air and rather than return to his perch by the television he climbs into my lap, Caroline looking on curiously.

"How are things going?" she asks.

"I'm in over my head," I say, leaning my chin on Chacha's head.

She sucks in her lips, pauses a beat. "I'm so sorry, Calvin."

Chacha looks up at her. "What did you do wrong?"

I set my son down on the floor and tell him to please finish his breakfast and let the adults speak alone. Miraculously, he follows my instructions.

I note a growing anxiety on Caroline's face.

I say, "I appreciate you coming all the way here to say that. It means a lot."

She must sense something in my tone. "But not enough."

"I forgive you."

She scooches closer. I pick up the scent of her perfume and I nearly lose my resolve. The desire to bring her into my arms is overpowering. I desperately want to tell her that I love her with all my heart. That we'll figure something out. But I haven't succeeded in that endeavor since I saw her last in Sugarbush Falls.

Chacha is here, in my life and I'm his father. Caroline cannot accept that. The writing is on the wall. We need to part ways.

I'm hoping she'll say something—anything—that will allow me to combine my two worlds into one.

Instead, she says, "I thought we were friends."

Disappointment floods me. We're no further along than the last time we saw each other in Sugarbush Falls. "We were friends."

I see the hurt creep across her features. "Caroline, something powerful happened between us and I can't go back. I don't know how to be only friends anymore. You mean more to me than that."

Her silence is deafening. My heart aches as she looks away.

"It's all or nothing, then," she says.

I decide to put it all out there. "I would never expect you to take on parenting at this stage in our lives especially when that was never on your radar."

She chews her lip and I'm fairly certain she's holding back tears. I swallow hard, scared if I take her hand to comfort her, we'll be right back where we started. In a solution-less situation.

Caroline nods, looking down at her feet. "We're at an impasse with no way to bridge it," she says softly, as if explaining it to herself.

"I'm sorry," I say, depleted. "I wish things could be different."

Caroline steps into the kitchen and sets a small bag on the table beside Chacha. "Merry Christmas."

I escort her to the door and watch her walk out. Of my life.