Page 40 of Taking A Chance
“Don’t you mean our child?” I counter with less volume but more venom. “Shit Petra, how could you have kept this from me?” I pace the floor, my hands gripping great handfuls of my hair, as the enormity of this revelation sinks in. “So, that’s why you ran, because you couldn’t look me in the face, while keeping this a secret from me.” I step up to her, so I’m close enough that she can feel and hear the anger that radiates from me. “Did you get a kick out of it? Did you enjoy playing your deceitful little game? Trouble is Petra, liars and cheats always get found out.”
“It wasn’t like that,”
“So, tell me what was it like?” I almost spit in her face.
“I… I…”
“What’s the matter Petra, can’t think up another lie quick enough?” I’m right up in her face, and I can see fear in her eyes. I need to calm down before I do something stupid. “I need to get out of here.” I push past her, making my way to leave. When I get to the front door, I look back only to see her stood at the other end of the corridor. Even at this distance, I can see the devastation on her face. My heart tells me to go to her, but my head tells me otherwise. “This isn’t over, Petra; this isn’t over by a long shot.” I turn my back on her and leave.
As the door slams, I drop to my knees and give way to yet more tears. This is a different kind of hurt. My own selfish pity had fuelled the previous pain. My lost chances, my insecure future, my heartache. This, this was his pain, a future that has been forced upon him. A life that he didn’t want. But most of all, the hurt from my deceit.
When the last strangled sob escapes me, all cried out, I swipe the tears from both my eyes and take a long, deep breath. Holding onto the wall, I ease myself to my feet and walk back into the kitchen and move around the room in a dazed like state. I pick up the cup that he used and run my finger around the rim, touching the very spot where his lips had been. I take it to the sink and place it carefully to the side. The chair where he sat is still pushed out from the table where he had risen, along with his anger. I let my hands flit across the back, before lifting and placing it back under. Turning on the hot tap, I squeeze a little, washing up liquid into the water stream as it gushes into the sink. I wash the cup, the spoon, and a couple of other leftover items in the hot soapy water. I pop some of the sudsy bubbles with the tip of my finger, listening to the crackle as they burst. But my resolve eventually shatters, and I find myself yet again, flooded with emotion as I hold tight onto the edge of the counter, the only thing that’s keeping me upright.
“Petra,” my mum whispers as she wraps her arms around me. I let my head drop back onto her shoulder as my body wracks with sobs.
“Viktoria?” I ask once my tears subside. I turn to face her.
“Spi (She’s sleeping).” She cups my face and kisses my cheek. I slide my arms around her waist and move into her ever open and inviting arms. How she holds me, takes me back to when I was a small child. When we would sit for hours cuddling and watching TV re-runs of Arabela, stories of the fairy-tale princess with a magic ring, who falls for a boy in the real world. Even Arabela’s magical life wasn’t that straightforward. I’m so lucky to have my mum and the love that she extends unconditionally to both me and my child.
“Chod si knej lahnut, aby si tam bola, ked sa prebudi. Chybas jej. (Go lay with her so you are there when she wakes. She misses you).” The smile and nod I give her are barely identifiable, but I’m emotionally exhausted, and it’s all I can give. I leave and make my way upstairs.
My abrupt awakening is because of a tiny hand slapping at my face, and when I open my eyes, I see the most angelic little face with the brightest of eyes and the cutest of smiles. The giggle that goes along with it has my heart fluttering with the type of love and joy that only a child can provoke.
“Hi there, baby girl,” I coo and pop her nose gently with my finger before placing a hundred and one kisses on her beautiful face. “Mummy’s missed you so much,” I punctuate each word with a kiss. She wriggles and giggles as I add a tickle or two.
Playtime gets interrupted by a knock on the door. My mum gives me an apologetic look and at first, I think that it’s because she’s disturbed our time together, but when she hands me my phone, I realise that’s not the case.
The phone is lit up but not making a sound, so I know that it’s a call and it’s live. Cade’s name shows on the screen. I give my mum a dirty look, shaking my head, wondering why the hell she answered it? With trepidation, I hold the phone to my ear, bracing myself for what God only knows might come next.
“Hello?”
“We need to talk.”
“Then talk, but make it quick. I’m busy.”
“Well shit, Petra, get un-busy because I think this is a little more important, don’t you? You know, the fact that I have a child that I didn’t have a damn clue about. That because of you, I’ve missed the chance of spending time with her in the first months of her life, something that I can never get back.”
I don’t reply. To be honest, I don’t know what to say in my defence.
I don’t need to see him to know that he’s probably got his hand in his hair. The deep sigh I hear only highlights the fact that he’s trying to regain a modicum of composure.
“Can you meet me?” his voice is now softer but laced with a hint of desperation.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“I’m at a hotel. It’s the,” I hear him shuffling papers around, “The Radisson Blue, near the National Theatre.”
“The Carton. I know where that is.”
“Will you bring her with you? God,” he huffs, “I don’t even know my child’s name.”
“No!” I snap. “I’m not bringing my child into what will probably end up being a screaming match, Cade. I won’t have her subjected to that.”
“Petra,” the sound of my name, in his deep voice, sends a splattering of goose bumps across my skin. “I’m sorry. I never meant to upset her. Why do you think I left when I did? I needed time to get my head around this, time to cool down. When I came here looking for you, the last thing I expected was to find out that I’m a dad.”
Silence falls between us, giving me time to mull over his request.
“One hour. I’ll meet you in one hour. But not at the hotel.” The last thing I need right now is to be in a closed environment with him. It needs to be somewhere open; public. Somewhere both of us will have to hold our tongues and control our tempers. “When you come out of the hotel, turn right, walk towards the Danube River until you get to the promenade and I’ll meet you there.”