Page 82 of Love By The Falls

“Your ex doesn’t pay child support? Are you kidding?”

“No.”

“Jesus, Charlotte. You need to rectify that immediately. Whether he wants to be a part of the child’s life or not, he should help you financially to raise him.”

“Jason wanted me to have an abortion. I chose not to, so I bear all the financial responsibility.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“It does for me. He gets no say in what I do or how I raise Charlie.”

“Is that the sort of deal you’re looking to get from me?”

The server walks into the room carrying a plate of perfectly baked spanakopita and sets it on the table, momentarily saving Charlotte from answering my question. Neither of us says anything until the server leaves. Charlotte uncrosses her arms and leans closer to the table, inhaling softly, the tight black fabric rising with her chest. “That smells delicious.”

“Charlotte?”

“Yes?”

“Will you ice me out of this child’s life?”

She falls back on her chair, and this time huffs loudly before crossing her arms again. “I don’t know. What would your commitment look like? Are you just sending monthly payments and expect photos of the kid in return? Sure, I can do that. Do you expect me to call you before I make any decision, like if I’ll let him watch television before bed or not, then no, I won’t be consulting you on that.”

“I don’t care whether the kid watches television before bed or not.”

“Then what is it you want to know, Caleb? What sort of involvement are you expecting in return for your financial commitment?”

Her direct question surprises me. No one’s ever challenged me like this and the fact that she’s reversedthe question makes me realize she isn’t intimidated. Good.

“Yes, monthly or bi-monthly photos would be great. Perhaps some updates early on when the child walks, talks… I don’t know… whatever milestones children hit. I’d like to know about them.”

“Why?”

There she goes again. Pushing me. Challenging me. Only this time, the question is unsettling because I don’t have an answer. “Why?” I repeat.

She nods.

It’s getting warm in this small room, so I undo another button at the top of my shirt. “Because I’m not an asshole, Charlotte. I want to know what my child is up to.”

“Do you plan to visit him or her?”

“I’m not sure.”

“When will you be sure?”

“What’s this about? Why the third degree? I’m just trying to say I want to be involved.”

She runs her fingers through her hair. “I get that’s what you want, but can you understand how I need to know how to explain your involvement or lack of involvement to our child? If you only show up once a year or once every five years, how do I explain that to them? Do I say daddy only visits when he feels like it? That is a pretty shitty thing to do to a child.”

“I don’t know. What have you told Charlie about his father?”

“Charlie doesn’t know who his father is.”

“Really? Why not?”

She presses her lips together and her jaw ticks. “Because until recently we hadn’t spoken since our break-up.”

Shit.

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