Grateful

Grateful had been good about leaving regrets in the past. She didn’t let mistakes fester, she just solved the problem, and moved on. She was going on 54, had a loving husband, three grown children, and a rewarding career. She should be happy by now.

She wasn’t. She wasn’t sure if she ever had been, once highschool ended and she had to start all over. There were moments, but they didn’t last, and she idly wondered why in the quiet hours with her coffee. She’d told her husband about it once, and he thought perhaps something she’d done in the past was holding her back. But that was impossible, because Grateful did not keep regrets in little bottles under the surface. She let things go.

She let things go.

Grateful became fixated on this. It stuck in her brain no matter what she tried to tell herself. What did she do? Was this feeling some sort of curse? Did she wrong some supernatural being? If she figured out what she did, and fixed it, would that be enough to atone? If there was even a chance that she could solve this, logic the emptiness away, she had to find out. 

The first thing she did was dig out her old yearbooks and flip to pictures of her old classmates. Who did she wrong? She’d been such a social butterfly back then, she hadn’t been on bad terms with anyone that she could remember. She yanked out old photo albums. Pictures of road trips with friends and dresses from the dances. She almost got distracted soaking in the sweet memories.

Frustrated, she went to the old computer and pulled open her dusty social media page. She dug through hundreds of contacts until she found one of her old friends. They hadn’t spoken in decades. 

‘Haley, I need your help. What was the biggest mistake I made in highschool?’

She stared at the screen for long minutes, before giving up and going to her childrens’ pages. The eldest had a beautiful baby girl that was going to be two this summer. Grateful loved seeing the pictures her son posted of the infant.

‘How about the time you got pregnant? :)’ The response came in, hours of looking at baby pictures later, ‘Why do you ask?’

‘Thank you.’ Grateful replied, before shutting the computer down. 

She sat with her head back and her hands covering her eyes. How did she forget something like that? Had life really been so hectic since then that such a thing could just slip her mind? Yes, that was probably right. It wasn’t her fault, she’d just had so many other things to deal with, she hadn’t been able to think about the nightmare that had been that pregnancy following a party hookup. It wasn’t her fault. 

But that wasn’t of consequence now. She had to fix this somehow! She had to talk to them, so she could finally feel happy again. She quickly turned on the computer again and looked into a reunion registry.

---

Unsuccessful. Both parties have to consent, the page had said, and Grateful had learned that her mystery child had denied her registry. For a few days, everything got worse.

“Why don’t we hire a private investigator?” Her dearest husband had said, and just like that, she realized she’d been ready to give up too soon. They went together to find someone who would help. 

There wasn’t much she had for the PI to go on, as it had been nearly three and a half decades since the mistake and she hardly even remembered the first name of the boy she’d been with, Not to mention, it was supremely embarrassing talking about such things in front of her husband, as she knew it would make him feel insecure. Nonetheless, she gave all she had and the fee, and the man sent them on their way while he worked. 

It was months of nail-biting anticipation, even though she knew he’d probably come back empty-handed. But lo and behold, the man was a miracle-worker! He had a name, phone number, place of residence, and even threw in contact information for the father. She was so overjoyed, she paid him extra. Her husband insisted they make plans to fly out to meet this child of hers immediately. 

“Are you sure, Jeremy? We don’t know how long we’ll be gone.” She’d said.

“This is important to you, cher. Besides, I think we deserve a little change of pace.” 

They told their children where they were going, which was met with some shock and caution and excitement, respectively. She tucked the two phone numbers into the inner pocket of her coat and they boarded the next plane.

---

Wyatt was infinitely grateful that it was Monday. He wouldn’t have to go in to the bar tonight, which was a load off his shoulders because he was beat. He hadn’t had a moment’s rest since Friday, barring the five hours between jobs he had to get whatever sleep he could. Nothing against Coal’s work, and catching that stalker a few hours earlier had been all well and dandy, but he felt he deserved a day-long nap. 

The apartment building burned orange in the light of the setting sun, which almost made it look hospitable. He walked past the sounds of tvs and creaky floorboards from behind the doors of his neighbors until he found his own, and tried the knob to find it unlocked. Good, Quincie made it home alright. 

“Evening, Quin.” He called from the entrance, shutting the flimsy door behind him and locking the deadbolt. 

“Hey, Wyatt.” The teen called back from the kitchen. “Are you gonna be out tonight?”

“Nope, I’ve got the whole thing off!” He sang, still pretty excited about it himself. Whatever would he do with all the time? Sleep sounded pretty nice. A smell caught his attention, and he moved to lean into the kitchen, a big smile finding its way on his face at the sight. Quincie seemed to be cooking something. She seemed to know what she was doing-- though perhaps Wyatt, an abysmal cook himself, was no a good judge of that. Either way, he was impressed that she had done this all on her own initiative.

“What’re you making?”

“Just some pasta. With some alfredo shrimp sauce. Nothing really hard. I just thought we could have it for dinner.”

Wyatt felt his heart practically melt. Ah, she’d remembered his favorite food. She was trying to do something nice for him. She kept her face turned away as she stirred her alfredo sauce, obviously embarrassed. Utterly adorable.

“That’s thoughtful of you, kid” Wyatt said warmly, moving to tousle her hair. 

“It’s not all for you, dumbass.”

“I know, I know!” He chuckled, putting his hands up. “Alright, what can I help with?”

“If I let you touch anything, you’ll burn it!”

In the end, all Wyatt got tasked with was picking something to watch after dinner. He heckled her by complimenting her latest vase, which he’d noticed sitting quietly on the coffee table, and she’d threatened to put Febreeze in his pasta. She proudly presented her food shortly after. They talked about how school was going and the latest gossip around town and the meal was the best Wyatt had ever had. He might have been biased. He wished they were able to do this more often. 

That was when the doorbell rang.

Wyatt sighed, but couldn’t help grin at the glare his daughter shot at the door. 

“Well, better see what they want.” He said, pushing up from his seat. Quin simply went back to her food.

When he opened the door, he was met with a short woman and a frail-looking man. They seemed to be getting on in years. Wyatt didn’t recognize them, which immediately put him on edge.

“Can I help you?” He asked, smiling.

“Yes, well, uh, I suppose this is a difficult thing to explain…” The woman said, taking a step forward. He kept an eye on her hands. “You’re Wyatt, right? Wyatt Keyes…?”

“That’s right.” 

“My name is Grateful McCoy,” she seemed to swallow, “and I’m your mother.”

Wyatt snorted.

“Yeah alright, I’ve heard this one before. Sorry, bye,” Wyatt moved to close the door, but the woman flew forward, repeating ’wait, wait, wait!’ He indulged her.

“Um, I don’t know what you mean by ‘heard this before,’ but I’m not lying. I can prove it, just, uh, I sent a reunion registry? Two months ago, that was me. And, uh, oh, we hired a private investigator so I couldn’t get the official documents, but, what else--”

Wyatt’s smile dropped off his face. 

“And why are you here?”

“Well I--” She seemed taken off guard. “I wanted to meet you. Wanted to, uh, right any wrongs, and mayb--”

“Right, not interested, bye.” Wyatt shut the door this time, turned the lock. His brain seemed to stall for a moment. 

“Wyatt?” Quincie’s voice shook him from it, she sat at the table watching him, food forgotten. He tried to give her a smile. 

“Always has to be right in the middle of dinner, doesn’t it?” He complained, finding his seat again.

“This happened before?” She asked. 

“A couple times. Some creeps who had it out for me sent some people to try swindle me out of money, or something like that. They were all awful actors, though.” He chuckled, taking a bite of pasta.

“Were these ones fake, too?” Quincie pursued it, look in her eye telling Wyatt she thought she knew the answer. He sighed.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“But you don’t wanna deal with them.”

“I don’t wanna deal with them.” He repeated, smiling at her. His clever and understanding daughter.

“Then don’t.” She said, even though they both already understood, and it felt like a knot untwisted inside him. Things went back to how they were before.

Grateful and her husband stood on the curb, shivering as the sky darkened and darkened and grew late, and didn’t know what to do. 

“Perhaps it’s best to leave it, Grateful,” He told her, “I don’t think he wants to talk.”

But Grateful couldn’t leave it, because she couldn’t bear to go back to her life and feel like she was nothing again. She had to earn his forgiveness for whatever she did to him, because that would fix her.

“We just,” she said, “need to try again.”

Her husband agreed to follow her back in, but made sure to ask that they not take too long. This was a shady neighborhood, he’d said, he could see it in the cracked pavement and the tombstone buildings, and he didn’t want to put their own wellbeing at risk. Grateful gathered her determination by its neck and refused to let it slip away, no matter how close they got to the door. 

A movie was playing on the other side, she could hear. She killed newborn hesitation and rapped her knuckles on the wood. The movie stopped, but everything was quiet for long moments. Then, footsteps, and the click of a lock, and her son’s unhappy face appeared on the other side. 

“I have something to say, and I will not leave until you listen. May we come in?” She proclaimed, forcing eye contact.

“Nope.” He tried to close the door, she stuck her foot in the way and got it slammed for her troubles. She hissed, but had successfully kept it open. He looked a little guilty.

“Please,” She said, drawing his attention back. “Let us in. Please.”

Wyatt looked as if he wanted to sigh. He looked over his shoulder into the apartment, glanced into the hall behind them, then stepped back to open the door more.

“Make it quick,” He said. 

“Thank you,” She breathed, accepting the invitation, snippy as it was. Her husband followed along silently. They stepped into a small living room, the only light coming from a tv against the wall beside them. On the couch was a young-looking girl, who eyed them warily. Wyatt moved to stand between them, so she wasn’t able to ask the girl’s name. The door was still at their back. They weren’t welcome here.

Her son raised an eyebrow at her, so she took it as her cue to say her piece. Her heart hammered and she took a breath to calm it. Her whole being hinged on this moment.

“I am so, so sorry,” She said, “I was a teenager back then, and I wouldn’t have been able to support a, a family, so I did what I thought was best. And everything moved so fast, I’ve barely had a break to reflect until recently, so I didn’t even remember that you were out there. But I know that things might’ve been hard, and that you probably blame me for those things. I just want to ask for your forgiveness for being gone. That’s, that’s all.”

“Hm.” Wyatt crossed his arms. “That’s what you wanted to tell me?”

“Yes, that’s, I think that’s all of it.”

“Great. I don’t forgive you. Bye.”

Grateful’s eyes snapped to his, shocked. She stared at him, at a complete loss for words. He glared back evenly.

“Excuse me?” Her husband snapped. Wyatt looked at him. “Do you have any idea what she went through to find you?”

“I don’t give a shit. Get out.”

No, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be right. He rejected her apology? Why? Didn’t he understand that he had the key to her happiness, and was keeping it from her? What had she done to deserve this much hatred from her own child? She willed her mouth to move.

“Why won’t you forgive me?” Her voice wobbled. “I came all this way…”

“Why do you think that would change anything?” He retorted.

“I don’t understand. I’m trying to tell you that I’m better now. I want to be here for you!”

“Oh, fuck off,” Wyatt hissed, “You forgot about me for 34 fucking years. Like hell you want to be here now.”

“Are you calling me a lair--”

“YES! I’m calling you a fucking liar! You’re not here for me, you’re here for yourself!” Wyatt was glowering at her, fists curled so that Grateful suddenly feared he would swing at her. “You remembered a fucking terrible thing you did and you want an easy fix so you can feel better about yourself! Well, guess the fuck what, my life was shitty because of what you did! And I’m not going to help some bitch pretend she’s a good fucking person! Get the fuck out of my home!”

Time felt as if it froze in that spot for moments. No one moved. Until Wyatt’s face twitched in anger and he shouted at her to get out again. She jumped, and her husband took her shoulder and left. The door slammed behind them. 

“You can’t win them all, dear,” he said, as she just felt numb.

Wyatt stood gripping the door handle like he could break it to dust under his fingers. His heartbeat was in his ears, and he had the impulse to punch the door, but wrestled it down.

“Wyatt…?” Quincie whispered. He turned to see her tensed on the couch, and immediately felt awful, remembering the few interactions he’d had with her biological father.

“Sorry, Quin. It’s fine. You’re fine. Sorry.” He turned back to the handle, slowly willed his grip release.

“...Do you wanna finish the movie?”

Wyatt smiled at her, already feeling his body drained as the roiling emotions ebbed a little. He joined her on the couch and she set the movie playing again. Slowly, she leaned into him and put her arms around his chest. He could have cried. Instead, he put his arms around her and they managed to enjoy the rest of their evening.