Crossing a Line

TYLER

Yesterday was a whirlwind, all thanks to Zach, Callum, and Violet. The birthday sex, the extra romps with Callum and Zach, and an unforgettable experience with Violet did wonders for my mood. We all agreed to play along with Sophie’s game until I could meet with the lawyer on Monday morning, with Jerry by my side. Despite my constant denial that the child isn’t mine, Zach has been urging me to play along. I can’t fathom why.

The pressure is mounting from all sides, pushing me to step up. But if Tilly isn’t mine, why should I? How would that impact me? Zach doesn’t want Sophie to use anything against me that could disrupt our home life, whatever that implies. Today, we’re heading to my mother’s house. Violet, Ella, and I, that is. Zach decided to stay back, claiming he might lose his cool with ~little bird~. Callum stayed back to keep him company.

Zach’s continued use of that nickname for her both confuses and angers me. She means nothing to us now, so why does he still feel enough affection for her to use his pet name?

“You okay?” Violet asks, sitting next to me. She’s looking at the mirror we bought for Ella on Amazon. She’s as nervous as hell and probably should have sat in the back with Ella, but I think she felt the need to support me as I drive to my mother’s.

“I don’t see the point in this. Why start to love a child that isn’t going to stay?” I question. She gives me a strange look before turning back to Ella. Her eyes are glossy in the mirror’s reflection, and it kills me that I’m causing her pain, especially so soon after giving birth. Yet, she’s still supporting you.

The rest of the drive is quiet and tense. It’s not a long drive, barely twenty minutes, but it’s enough time for me to overthink today and spiral into a silent anxiety attack. What are Sophie’s motives? Does she understand that once we get a DNA test, I’ll be right back out of her life, their lives? My gut tells me something is off here, something strange, and I don’t want to be doing this visit. Yet here I am with my real child and fiancé in tow.

I knock on the front door instead of walking in, trying to convince myself it’s to minimize my time around Sophie. God, I don’t want to be here.

“It’s just today. Then the lawyer will get an order for proof that she’s not yours, and she’ll be out of our lives,” Violet reassures me, holding Ella close to her chest. I’m surprised that Ella is still sound asleep. We didn’t consider that the fixed car seat would mean Ella has to be taken out every time we stop.

I know my mother has brought down Ava’s crib from the spare room for Ella. So hopefully, we can get her in there to nap while I play my part in this charade. My mother opens the door with a weary look on her face. She looks exhausted and upset, and I guess having Sophie here with Tilly…who I insist isn’t my child, might do that to her. I can only imagine what Sophie is feeding my mother about Tilly.

“Mom,” I greet her, pulling her in for a brief and awkward hug. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m still incredibly angry with her. My mother has never accused me of lying, yet she accused me of lying about being with Sophie. It’s one thing for Zach to think it, considering everything I’ve done to him, but my mother knows me. She knows how much I struggled with the guilt of going to her that day I whipped Sophie.

So I don’t understand how she could assume I left out the detail of sleeping with her. Because that’s what I presume she’s thinking.

“Tyler. Violet. Ah, I have the crib in the living room if you want to put Ella down?” she suggests, glancing at Ella nestled on Violet’s chest. We follow my mother through the house to the living room at the back. Unfortunately, Sophie and Tilly are already here. Sophie is sitting on the floor with Tilly, playing with Ava’s toys by the back door where a rug is placed for Ava to play with toys by the sliding glass doors.

One day, Ella will be doing that too.

“What’s she doing here?” Sophie’s voice fills the room with a snarl as soon as she notices Violet trailing behind me. I have no words for her… I hate that she’s pulling me into this game of hers, trapping me into responsibilities that aren’t my own.

“She’s my fiancé, and Ella’s my child,” I state, but that only angers Sophie more. Her angry expression turns to one of hurt as she looks down at Tilly.

“You spend every day with that child, yet you can’t give an hour for Tilly?” She brushes the child’s hair out of her face before looking up to me with tears in her eyes. “Alone.”

“No instructions prevented me from bringing my girls, so they are here, end of.” I know I’m being childish by emphasizing that Violet and Ella are mine. Ella biologically and Violet by choice of fidelity, but I do it anyway.

Even when Sophie was our plaything, we still played with others, well more so Zach, but I wasn’t innocent because I played in a few scenes throughout our relationship, if you can call it that. Zach refers to it as an arrangement. Her being there for him to use as he pleased. Looking back on how we interacted, that would be the case. Rarely did he sleep with her. Maybe a couple of double penetration experiences here and there. But mostly it was me being made to sleep with her, a girl, that I had no physical response to.

My punishment. And here we are, years later. Her still being my punishment, except she’s the one in charge now instead of Zach. And I’m still the chess piece that’s told what to do. Violet moves around me, placing Ella in the crib set up by the end of the sofa near the rug of toys that Tilly is sitting on. Tilly has that weird cushion that Ava used to use to sit up with. A tray of toys in front of her that she’s trying to reach for and unsuccessfully grabbing at.

I sit down right at the edge of the rug near the place Violet had chosen to sit on the sofa. My hand wrapped around her calf, helping me ground my anxiety about being in this room with Sophie and her child. The atmosphere becomes thick with silence as the only sounds come from Tilly, who is babbling away to herself and the toys she’s trying to master holding. She’s sat with a side view of her face, and I search her tiny chubby face for something, anything.

And although I love children… I don’t want anything to do with this one. Nothing pulls me toward her. No desire for communication or closeness because I’m fine staying right over here wrapped around Violet near my Ella. I’m safe here.

“Aren’t you going to talk to her? Maybe play?” Sophie asks, looking over at us.

I don’t respond, not for a minute. Not until Violet pats my shoulder, standing up. I have no choice but to let go of her leg so she can move away from me. She’s doing it because she knows what she was doing for me, and maybe she knows I would have sat here with her for the full hour if she hadn’t moved.

“I’ll make some coffee. Would you like anything, Sophie?” Her voice comes calm and collected, snapping my gaze up to hers.

She looks back at me with a small smile showing me she’s just as uncomfortable as I am, yet she’s pushing through this shit just for me.

“Sure, I’m also hungry. Liz mentioned a snack. We skipped lunch, didn’t we, Tilly?” She toys with the baby’s hand as Tilly locks her fingers around Sophie’s.

“Okay then, Liz,” Violet says, walking away from me.

My chest tightens in that weird way it does when the panic starts to overtake my senses. I’m all but fighting for breath as they leave the room, leaving me alone with Sophie, Tilly, and Ella.

“Tilly look, daddy’s come to play with you.” Sophie talks to her child in a babyish voice that I don’t care for.

“Don’t call me that. You have no proof,” I say. She frowns at me momentarily but nods.

“I’m requesting a DNA test. Once that proves you the father, will you stop ignoring her and come to an arrangement as her father, or will I have to drag this through the courts?” I snort beside myself, not realizing how childish I’m being when she gives me a death glare.

“That DNA will prove I’m not the father.”

“It won’t,” she says, looking in at Ella before taking a seat on the sofa. “I’ll sit here. You go play with Tilly. Try to make as much effort as you do with that one.”

“Her name is Ella,” I assert, disliking the casual way she refers to my daughter. My own flesh and blood.

“Ella it is,” she replies in a sugary tone, pulling her phone from the diaper bag resting beside her.

I find myself counting to ten, taking deep breaths, gathering the courage to approach Tilly.

~Don’t be afraid… she’s just a baby.~

~She’s not our baby, she’s her baby.~

~Yet, she doesn’t deserve to feel unwanted or out of place. Even if her mother has lured you here under false pretenses.~

I position myself in front of the little girl, observing her as she tries to grasp a small, plastic rattle. It’s pink and yellow, the paint worn from use—it used to be Ava’s favorite toy.

“This was Ava’s favorite. Zach got it for her first Easter,” I explain to Tilly, extending the handle for her to grab.

She manages to hold it on her fifth try. She moves her hand from side to side unsteadily, causing it to rattle. A giggle escapes her, a small one, as if she’s never done it before. And I suppose she hasn’t, because Sophie gasps, her phone aimed at us.

“That was her first laugh,” she beams at us, as if the sight of us together fills her with joy.

It churns my stomach that she would manipulate me like this, but I ignore her, helping Tilly shake the rattle again. Tilly laughs at the sound, this time with more confidence.

“You like that, huh? It does sound kind of cool.” I pick up a tambourine, shaking it in front of me, eliciting another giggle from her. She has her mother’s smile, if nothing else.

“This is a tambourine. My sister used to run around for hours shaking hers. Drove everyone crazy.”

“We call her Aunty Kels,” Sophie interjects, and I don’t bother to respond.

After that incident, I start referring to my sister as Aunty Kels. If that’s what Tilly is accustomed to, then who am I to correct her?

“Aunty Kels had this habit of waking everyone up at three in the morning with her flute practice. She was terrible at it. Eventually, she switched to piano and violin. But she was only good at the violin.”

Tilly chatters away as if she’s having a conversation with me, and it genuinely makes me smile. She’s such a sweet baby. She seems quite content with life.

I look up to see Sophie with her hand in the crib, as if she’s gently touching Ella’s cheek.

“What are you doing?” I stand up, uneasy with her even making contact with Ella.

“I was just caressing her cheek. She looks so much like you,” Sophie’s voice is slightly strained, maybe even a hint of sadness that Ella does indeed look like me. But that’s because Ella is my child.

“Remove your hands. She’s sleeping,” I command.

Sophie gives me a peculiar look but pulls her hand back from the crib.

“Okay, got it. No touching while she’s asleep. I didn’t think you guys would be those kinds of parents… Tilly usually sleeps on me, so I guess I’m just used to touching her while she sleeps.”

I look away, relieved that she’s no longer touching Ella.

“Tilly’s your child, and it’s your decision. Ella’s mine, so it’s my decision how she’s raised. We don’t disturb her while she’s sleeping. Besides, you have no reason to touch her.” I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to her, but I feel the need to.

“I’m sorry I crossed a line,” she says in a more cheerful tone, so I look back at her. She’s smiling now.

The kind of smile that used to get her a spanking.