SEAL Daddy by Sofia T Summers
Jason
I’d gone to Adrian’s house hundreds of times, but this was the first time I felt compelled to shower and put on one of my better shirts beforehand. All day long, my heart raced like I was a teenager taking his crush to prom, but the girl who had my nerves frayed wasn’t a teenager. She was seventeen months old and didn’t even know I existed.
Her mother was the only one who could end my agony. I needed to speak with Nicole. Then, everything would be set straight. It all sounded so simple in my head, but my bones were aching with anxiety. Nothing about this dinner was going to be relaxed.
Arriving at the brick-clad traditional home, I saw a crossover SUV sitting in the driveway as red as a candy apple. There was a Christopher Newport parking sticker in the rear window and a Carolina Tar Heels magnet below. I’d never seen the car before, but I knew instantly who its owner was.
I smoothed the pale green shirt I wore and made sure my old leather boots were properly tied before ringing the bell. It chimed with two musical notes before time stood still. While I breathed in the smell of fresh-cut grass, the footsteps coming closer weren’t heavy enough to be Adrian.
Opening the front door, Nicole stood there wearing a dark denim dress. Her feet were bare, and her eyes were greener than ever. For a single second, it felt like no time had passed. Her shoes were still hidden in some corner, and her blonde hair still cascaded over her shoulders. Then, I caught my breath and remembered.
“Hey Jason,” she offered with a polite and practiced smile. “It’s, um, been a while.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “Can I come in?”
Nicole didn’t realize she had been standing there staring. Running a hand through her sweeping curtain bangs, she tucked the hair behind her ear nervously.
“Of course,” she agreed. “Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Feel free to hand your coat up in the front closet.”
She didn’t wait for me as she wandered back down the front hall. I could hear a public radio show that had been playing for decades. Shrugging out of my waxed-cotton jacket, the sounds of laughter in the live theater resounded. Adrian was chuckling himself as he came into the hallway.
“Hey, Jason!” He greeted me more warmly than Nicole. “How was the drive?”
“Fine,” I replied. “The tunnel was a little backed up, but that’s nothing new.”
Shaking his head, Adrian huffed, “It’s like the traffic only gets worse around here, but I’m glad you were able to endure it. We’ve got a pot roast resting. Nicole just has to warm the dinner rolls she made.”
“Made?” I echoed as I shut the closet door.
“Yeah, she made the yeast rolls for dinner tonight,” he explained happily. “Nicole swears the ones at the grocery store aren’t good enough. You can decide for yourself if it was worth her trouble. Do you want a beer or some iced tea?”
“Tea’s fine,” I answered him.
My eyes wandered along the ivory walls decorated in family photos as I followed Adrian. I noticed the formal dining room was untouched and dark, but the cheery kitchen was dressed and alive for the occasion. Nicole was standing over the oven, brushing melted butter over a dozen rolls laid out on a sheet pan. The smell of rosemary and red wine wafted from the large orange dutch oven beside her.
From behind, I could see how Nicole’s waist was defined by her dress’s sash, and part of her hair was tied back with a black ribbon. She was more beautiful than I remembered. My vague memories and countless dreams hadn’t done her justice, yet I couldn’t keep my attention for long. Another girl was staring at me.
“Charlotte, this is Jason,” Adrian introduced me as he scooped the little girl up from her high chair. “Jason, meet Charlotte.”
“Hi, Charlotte,” I greeted with hesitation, surprised at how she watched me.
“Hi,” she answered me in a high little voice.
Dressed in a pink jumpsuit, it was wild how much she looked like a miniature of her mother. They had the same blonde hair and button nose. Her eyes were wide and filled with skepticism as she studied me. Charlotte’s small hand reached out for my arm to feel the sleeve of my shirt, pursing her lips as she did it.
“She’s big on textures these days,” Adrian explained before putting Charlotte back down into her chair. “See?”
Adrian handed Charlotte a paper napkin, and she suddenly took great interest in the pattern pressed into the border. Out of the corner of my eye, I curiously looked to see if Nicole was reacting to any of this. She didn’t. She simply continued to complete her tasks in the kitchen, while Adrian got drinks for both of us.
“Here, Jason,” he said, handing me a tall blue glass filled with tea.
“Thanks,” I mumbled back.
Between Nicole’s determined nonchalance and the little girl studying a napkin, I couldn’t offer much in conversation. My mind was running a mile a minute. Charlotte looked so much like her mother, except for just one undeniable detail.
The little girl’s wide eyes were rich golden-brown. There were flecks of amber that caught the glow of the sunset coming through the large bay window. As she continued to look my way, I knew plenty of people had brown eyes, but it didn’t feel like a coincidence that Charlotte’s eyes reflected my own.
They were so similar, it nearly scared me. It wasn’t actual proof of what I suspected. It was merely circumstantial. Still, I kept looking her way as she drank from her sippy cup and balled up her paper napkin.
“Okay,” Nicole finally announced. “Everything’s ready.”
With dinner set on the round wooden table, conversation over the meal was polite and upbeat. Nicole smiled like someone was taking her photograph, and every question was given a calm response. The moment of flustered confusion at the front door was gone. Instead, Nicole focused on minding Charlotte as Adrian talked about the college basketball’s big tournament.
“Will you be watching, Nicole?” Adrian asked her. “Carolina’s in the Final Four.”
“Maybe,” she answered with a smile. “We’ll see if I have the time.”
It came time for dessert, and Charlotte started yawning. She was fighting her tired eyes. The little girl wanted to keep watching us talk over dinner. She wanted to finish her dinner roll and sip the last of her milk, but sleep was overwhelming her.
“I know you wanted to make whipped cream for your cake,” Adrian remarked. “I’ll go settle Lottie in the living room, so you can do that.”
“Alright,” she agreed, standing from her seat.
For the first time, I realized the radio was still playing on the far counter. It was playing some piano music now. The serene notes danced over the tension in the air that Nicole continued to ignore. She got out her whipping cream and a bowl, while she refused to look my way.
“Your rolls were good,” I remarked.
“Thanks,” she answered quickly, pulling out a hand-crank mixer.
Knowing I couldn’t sit idle, I offered, “Do you want any help?”
Nicole wanted to say no. The truth was written all over her face, but she did need something.
“Do you want to come hold the bowl?”
I got up without replying, coming over to where she stood by the kitchen’s butcher block prep table. My hands wrapped around the clear glass bowl filled with cream, sugar, and a hint of vanilla, but my grasp longed to fasten Nicole against me until I got the answers I desperately needed.
Instead, her eyes remained focused on the cream as she whipped it with a fury. I could smell the hint of that old honeysuckle and citrus perfume, but nothing happened the same way twice. Nicole wasn’t looking to hold onto the nearest body anymore. She didn’t need to cling to scraps of happiness.
“It’s been a while since we were this close,” I remarked in a low tone.
“Two years and a month,” Nicole told me. “But who’s counting?”
“I’ve been counting,” I insisted. “But my calculations aren’t adding up.”
Nicole knew what I meant. Her hands suddenly stopped with soft peaks forming in her wake. Her grass-green eyes glared in my direction. The warmth I’d once seen wasn’t there now.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jason,” she swore.
Going back to her whipping, Nicole began to crank her metal mixer with a greater fury. Her jaw clenched as she didn’t look up again.
“Yes, you do,” I pressed.
“No,” she swore again. “I really don’t.”
“She has my eyes, Nicole.”
Her hands stopped again. She sighed an anxiety-laden exhale.
“The majority of people in the world have brown eyes,” she reminded me, her tone getting frustrated.
“Not like that.”
“Like what?” Nicole huffed. “They might be similar, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
Frustration was looming around us both, and I didn’t know if I wanted to yell or capture Nicole’s scowl in a feverish kiss. The only clear thing in my mind was my need for answers wasn’t being met.
“If there’s even a chance,” I pressed, my chest growing heavy with a multitude of desires. “I’ll take a paternity test. I know what you’ve told your father, but you said you’d never had sex.”
“That depends on how you define sex,” Nicole insisted.
Groaning, I agonized, “Don’t play games here, Nicole. If you honestly aren’t sure, I’ll take the damn test.”
“I don’t care what you’re willing to do,” she fired back in annoyance. “It’s not happening.”
The whipped cream was finally finished. Avoiding my stare, Nicole set her beater in the kitchen before shifting to get a flourless chocolate cake from the oven top. She unlatched the sides of the springform pan and got out a clean knife. With the fury in her clenched jaw, I debated whether that was for cutting the cake or me.
Trying not to lose my cool, I assured her, “I’m just trying to understand things. If that little girl is mine, she would have been born in December, not October. I did the math.”
“Oh, did you?” Nicole scoffed.
“Yes!” I fumed, my volume rising.
“You know most babies aren’t born on their due date,” she pointed out to me. “Besides, if you’re so certain the math doesn’t add up, I don’t know why you’re bothering me right now.”
“I told you,” I shot back, hating how beautiful Nicole looked even as she glared at me. “I just want to know the truth. I think I’m owed that much.”
“Owed?” She repeated with disgust. “You think I owe you something?”
The schooled features and prepared smiles were long gone. There was a fierce electricity coursing from her vivid gaze, while I realized I’d chosen my words poorly.
“That’s not what I meant,” I tried to tell her.
It was too late. Her defensiveness was gone. Nicole was moving into the offensive positions, wielding her knife and pointing it in my direction.
“You want to know how my daughter was born?” Nicole seethed. “I’ll tell you, Jason. I-.”
Before she could say another word, footsteps came back towards the kitchen. Her mouth instantly snapped shut. The mask she wore throughout dinner returned, and the fury in her voice vanished.
“Would anyone like coffee with their cake?” She asked the room in an artificially sweetened tone.
I didn’t know how she did it. Military spies could’ve learned something from Nicole Davis. It was surreal to think the woman ready to cut me was now preparing coffee so calmly.
“I’ll take some,” Adrian replied with a casual smile. “What about you, Jason?”
I didn’t need any caffeine, but it seemed better to just go along with anything offered to me.
“Sure.” I nodded.
As Adrian took his place back at the table, Nicole’s eyes were trained upon me again. Her glare was still fearsome.
“Here,” she muttered before shoving the whipped cream bowl into my hands. “You can take this to the table.”
I said nothing as I returned to the kitchen table. Nicole quickly cleared away the used dinner plates before setting down three cake plates along with sugar and hazelnut coffee creamer in the center of the table. The kitchen kept her occupied, but my hands remained idle. I was quickly feeling like my own worst enemy.
“So, what did you two get to talk about while I was putting Lottie down?” Adrian wondered before sipping his tea.
“Oh,” I sighed. “Nothing really.”
“Really?” Adrian chuckled. “It’s not been that long since you’ve seen each other. You honestly didn’t have anything to talk about?”
“I was busy and there was music playing,” Nicole replied from behind me. “We don’t have to fill every single second with conversation, do we?”
“No,” her father agreed. “I guess not.”
“It was pleasant enough,” I partially lied.
The conversation was grating, but looking at Nicole’s face again brought back feelings I couldn’t describe. Even if she was raging against me, I liked having her attention. I liked hearing her bare feet pad across the checkerboard tile floors and see her sit across from me at the table.
Still, my muscles became tense. Nicole had stopped mid-sentence, and it seemed with every passing minute I’d never hear the second half. After she finished her coffee, Nicole quickly bid us goodbye, saying she needed to get Charlotte home to bed. I picked up the empty coffee cups as I heard the front door open.
A cold breeze blew into the house, and the two girls blew out with it.
I’d come to this dinner craving answers, but I was left wanting. I watched as Adrian shut the door behind Nicole. It made me wonder if it was going to be another two years before I saw her again. Based on the look in her eyes, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she took off into the night with her child and never came back.
