Part 3 — The Father I Thought I Knew
For several seconds, I honestly thought I had misunderstood him.
“You what?”
Dad didn’t look at me.
“I cheated on your mom.”
My mouth went dry.
“While she was pregnant?”
He nodded.
I stared at him.
My father.
The man who brought my mother coffee every morning.
The man who still reached for her hand when they crossed busy streets.
The man who remembered their anniversary without needing a calendar reminder.
The man I had measured other husbands against.
“You cheated on Mom?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
I felt as if the floor beneath me had shifted for the second time that day.
“How could you?”
His face tightened.
“It was a long time ago.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“No.”
“So answer me.”
Dad finally looked at me.
His expression was strangely controlled.
“Sometimes men do selfish, stupid things. Pregnancy changes a marriage temporarily. The attention shifts. Intimacy changes. Some men handle that badly.”
I recoiled.
“So you’re saying Daniel cheated because I’m pregnant?”
“No.”
“That is exactly what you’re saying.”
“I’m saying it doesn’t automatically mean he doesn’t love you.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“You sound disgusting right now.”
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
My eyes filled again.
“I spent my whole life thinking you and Mom had something real.”
“We do.”
“And you betrayed her.”
Dad swallowed.
“Yes.”
“Why did she stay?”
“Because she chose to.”
I looked toward the wall, unable to meet his eyes.
Suddenly, childhood memories felt contaminated.
Family vacations.
Anniversary dinners.
The way Mom smiled when Dad kissed her forehead.
Had all of that existed on top of some wound I had never known about?
Dad spoke carefully.
“Claire, I’m not telling you to forgive Daniel tonight.”
“Then what are you telling me?”
“I’m asking you to get through the pregnancy first.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
“No. You were the one doing the betraying.”
That landed.
Dad lowered his eyes.
I immediately wanted to take it back.
Then I didn’t.
He deserved to hear it.
At least, I thought he did.
He stood.
“Try to rest.”
“Dad?”
He stopped at the door.
“I don’t know who you are right now.”
