Friend Zoned: Sugar Rush Part 38

She eyes my chair and asks hesitantly, "Cecelia?"

I nod, unable to speak. She waves an arm out to the bench. "Take a seat." As soon as she says it, she winces. "I'm sorry; I meant-"

I decide to put her out of her misery and cut in with a quiet, "It's okay. I know what you meant." I wheel my chair beside the bench and she sits once again, s.h.i.+fting away from me. She's probably as nervous as I am.

She plays with her fingers, looking away from me. "Why did you contact me, Ceecee?"

My heart sinks at her tone. "Because I wanted to meet my mom."

At the word mom, her eyes widen. "Please, call me Madeline." My cheeks flush. She sounds so stiff, so formal, as if I'm nothing to her. Shaking her head, she asks, "Does you dad know you're here?"

I shake my head and force a smile. "No, he doesn't."

He just doesn't get it. Every time I ask about my mother, he stops the conversation before it even begins. Then I found the box. It was like a sign. I don't need his permission. After all, this woman is my mother. She looks so cla.s.sy dressed like she is, in black pants and a white s.h.i.+rt, the type you see in expensive magazines. Maybe she'll take me clothes shopping sometime. I'd really like that.

Madeline clears her throat. "Ceecee, the only reason I agreed to meet you today was to have a serious chat with you."

My gut clenches. What kind of chat?

Before I can ask, she states, "I have a husband and two young sons." Her eyes meet mine and they're cold as ice. "I'm sorry. I know this might sound harsh, but I don't have room for you in my life."

Helena I stand there, in the place she left me, waiting for the moment she needs me. And I spot it before it comes. The woman doesn't even look at Ceecee; she talks to her hands, the arrogant b.i.t.c.h. My feet already moving towards them, protectiveness surges through me, burning through me like fire in my veins. Ceecee's face crumbles and she cries hard.

My pace quickens, and soon, I'm running across the park as fast as I can to protect my gra.s.shopper from this hard looking woman. As soon as I approach them, I kneel down and wrap my arms around Ceecee. The woman stands, looking down at Ceecee in shock. I wrap my girl up tight, and bark, "What did you say to her?"

Ceecee looks up at her mom and sobs, "Why don't you want me? What did I do? Was I a bad baby?" Ceecee pleads, "Tell me what to do and I'll do it! Please, don't leave!"

The woman's eyes fill with tears, but she doesn't speak.

Oh my G.o.d. Rage fills me. I stand from my kneeling position, eyes blazing. Placing a hand at Ceecee's shoulder, listening to the saddest cry I have ever heard in my life, I repeat a severe, "What did you say to her?"

The woman stutters, "I-I-I-I...shouldn't have come here."

Watching this pitiful excuse for a mother look at her child as though she's offensive, I whisper, "Then why did you?"

She steps away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come." Without another word, the woman turns her back and walks away, leaving behind a completely devastated child.

Kneeling once more, I wrap my arms around Ceecee and hold her tight as she wails, heartbroken, weeping from pure agony. How could she just walk away? Again? I don't even realize I'm crying until I feel wetness trail down my cheeks. I pull out my phone and text Max.

Me: Come home. Now.

I just hope I can get her home in one piece.

It takes a while to get Ceecee back into the car. She's quiet. Way too quiet. And I don't like it. Not that I blame her. The stupid b.i.t.c.h she called Mom really did a number on her. From her brokenhearted rambling, I manage to find out the mother has a new family and doesn't want Ceecee to be part of it. I tried to ask how she found her, but all she said was something about a box. It was hard to make out.

As soon as we arrive at the house, Max is waiting for us. Looking about as worried as a father should be, he rushes over to the van. "What happened?" Before I can answer, he spots Ceecee's blotchy, tear-stained face, and without waiting, he grips the sides of the wheelchair and pulls her down to the ground. Kneeling, he brushes a hand over her hair. "Baby girl, what happened?" When she doesn't answer, he looks back up at me, eyes wild. "What the f.u.c.k happened?"

That's when Ceecee croaks, "She doesn't want me," tears trailing her cheeks.

My heart silently breaks. Max looks confused. "Who? Who doesn't want you, baby?"

Her sad eyes peer into his. "Mom."

Max stands then, as rigid as a pole. Gritting his teeth, he turns to me and hisses, "What the f.u.c.k did you do?" My mouth gapes. Me? "Ceecee, go on into your room for a while, baby. I need to talk to Helena."

I look down at the pretty little angel, and face void, she does as her father says. As soon as she walks through the front door, he sucker-punches me with words. "Maddy was at the park? That's who you met?" I nod and open my mouth to speak, but I'm cut off. He booms, "You had no right! You should've come to me. I would have never let that b.i.t.c.h near her. How could you go behind my back?"

Shock turns my body rigid. I had expected a thank you for protecting his daughter, not a third degree. "Max, I thought-"

He paces. "No! You didn't think!" He jabs at his temple, eyes cold and uncharacteristically narrowed. "You didn't f.u.c.king think, Lena."

I step away, not from fear, but from hurt. "I didn't do anything wrong."

He forces a venomous laugh. "Oh, you didn't?" He points towards the house and shouts, "How the f.u.c.k do I fix this, Lena? What do I say to her now? 'Sorry, baby, but surprise! Your mom, the woman who left you before you were a year old, is responsible for your injuries, and she doesn't give a flying f.u.c.k about you'?"

I have never heard Max talk this way. I have never seen Max angry, or talk hatefully, or look at anyone the way he's looking at me right now. I want to walk away from this, just turn and walk out, but I can't. If I could only explain it to him, surely he'd understand. "This is all a big mistake."

His nostrils flare. "No. The only mistake I made was dating you."

I stumble back, hit by the force of his statement. I blink up at him, stunned at the hurt he's trying to inflict. Trying and succeeding. His eyes shut tight, his knuckles turning white. His breathing heavies. I know panic when I see it, and Max is overcome right now. I try to reason with him and utter gently, "You don't understand, Max. It wasn't like you think."

All of a sudden, his eyes shoot open, he leans into my face, and he roars, "You are not her mother! You aren't a parent; you don't know what it's like. I will do whatever I need to do to protect her, because I love her. You don't get to make calls about my daughter. You are not her mother!"

A thick silence coc.o.o.ns us. We stand in it a long while, trapped before I find my voice. "Thank G.o.d for that."

The look of fury on his face tells me he misunderstands me. I immediately continue. I need to explain, but my voice sounds weak, even to me, "There is no way I could ever be her mom." I take a step back as my eyes begin to burn. "If I were her mom," I breathe in a ragged breath, "nothing could keep me from her."

Max's face morphs from angry to empty. I take another step back. My voice, quieter than before, says, "If she were mine, I would spend my life protecting her." Another step back. "I would do anything to see her sweet, crooked smile." One more step. Tears blur my vision; my voice cracks. "I would die before I hurt her. I would die for her."

I turn to walk away, but stop mid-step. Not looking back, I utter, "If she were mine, I'd spend my life letting her know how grateful I was for her. She would never be forgotten," I pause a moment, "but you're right. She's not mine. I'm not her mother," my feet carry me away slowly, "but sometimes, I wish I were."

He doesn't stop me when I leave. He doesn't chase me down, or apologize. As I reach the street, I tuck my hands into my pockets and just walk. My heart stutters with the realization that things have changed.

And not all change is good.

Max I watch her walk away, and even though I want to stop her and ask her what she meant by what she just said, I can't. I can't, because my daughter is inside, and she's hurting. Deep.

Maddy.

She saw Maddy.

G.o.d. f.u.c.k! Jaw tight, I make my way into the house and search for Ceecee. I find her in her room, staring out the window. My chest aches. She looks so small. So lost. I don't know how to fix this. If Helena had just told me Ceecee wanted to meet her mom, I could've explained why that wasn't going to happen. But no, she went behind my back and organized a meeting with the heartless woman who gave birth to my daughter, and look at what she's done. All the progress Ceecee's made in the past month...gone.

I knock on the doorframe and move to sit on her bed. She doesn't acknowledge me. Resting my elbows on my knees, I utter gently, "So, you met your mom." She doesn't move. "I bet it makes sense now why I don't like talking about her, huh?"

Her bottom lip quivers and she takes in a shaky breath. She doesn't respond, but nods to the window. I can't help but ask, "Why didn't you just ask me, if you wanted to meet her?"

Ceecee turns to me; her tear-stained face makes my gut burn. "Would you have let me meet her?"

I shake my head. "h.e.l.l no."

"That's why," she explains weakly.

I sigh. "She tell you she's got a family?" Ceecee nods. "And I'm guessing she wasn't as excited to see you as you were to see her." Ceecee shakes her head softly. I ball my hands into fists to spot myself from losing my s.h.i.+t. "You don't need her, baby. You never did. You got me, and I love you enough for a hundred people."

Chin trembling, tears fall from her eyes and she nods in agreement. "I know, Daddy. I love you too."

My heart races. I'm close to the breaking point, but I keep my calm enough to ask, "How'd Helena find her? She hire someone? Took me close to a year to track her down."

Ceecee looks over at me, confused. "Helena didn't find her. I did."

My body stiffens. "What?" I ask, numb.

Ceecee wheels herself over to her closet. She opens the door and pulls out...

My heart beats even faster. My body hums. You have got to be kidding me. As she pulls out the box I've kept hidden all her life, I ask on a whisper, "Where'd you find that?"

Rather than answering the question, she mutters, "Her address was in here. Photos too. I sent her a letter weeks ago asking her to meet me this morning. She sent one back saying she would." Her eyes find mine. "Helena didn't know. She thought I was meeting my new friends." She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it. Finally, she says a hushed, "I didn't tell anyone."

Dread fills me as the realization hits me. Helena didn't know.

"I didn't do anything wrong."

"This is all a big mistake."

"You don't understand, Max. It wasn't like you think."

My heart stop beating altogether. What have I done? I close my eyes, trying to swallow, but my mouth is suddenly as dry as the Sahara Desert.

Jesus f.u.c.king Christ, what have I done?

"You're right. She's not mine. I'm not her mother. But sometimes, I wish I were."

I feel the blood drain from my face. My palms sweat.

"Are you okay, Daddy?" I swallow hard, the pressure in my ears building as she whispers, "I'm sorry, Daddy. So sorry."

I turn to my daughter. "I'm fine." No, I'm not. "As long as you are."

Ceecee smiles sadly. "I always thought meeting my mom would be a happy memory."

I shake my head and sigh an apologetic, "Cricket."

She shrugs. "Helena told me it didn't matter, that mom didn't matter." She smiles a small smile. "She got angry and said all that matters is I have a family who loves me, and Mom isn't cool enough to join our family, because she has a giant stick up her a.s.s."

Helena. Of course she did.

Our family.

Our family.

My stomach turns as my head pounds. I think I might just throw up. I stand and move towards my baby girl, hugging her tight and placing a kiss to her head. "I'm glad you're okay."

Ceecee straightens and states, "I can't imagine you with her." Unknowingly stabbing me in the heart, she mutters, "She's not like Helena, and I sort of thought she would be. I thought she'd be cool, and funny, and loving." Her eyes narrow in thought, likely pulling a memory from this morning. "She was just...cold."

I rub absently at the pang in my chest. Ceecee looks up at me, grinning. "You should've seen Helena yell at Mom. She wasn't even scared."

I'll bet she wasn't.

I clear my throat. "I think maybe we should do Coney Island next week, don't you think? We've already had a lot of excitement for one day. Maybe we can just sit around, watch movies, and eat junk today, yeah?"

She reaches up and takes my hand. "I'd like that, Daddy." Stroking her hair, I smile down at her before moving away. As I walk out of her room, she calls out, "Can you call Helena to come too?"

Somehow, I think she'll kindly decline. Not that I'd blame her. I'm an a.s.shole. Rather than telling Ceecee that, I call back, "I'll call her." And call her, I do.

But she doesn't answer.

Not any of the eighteen times I call.

Chapter Thirty-Eight.

Helena It takes me over an hour of walking for me to realize I have no idea where I am. Luckily, my cell, which rings in my pocket every minute or so, is in my pocket. I call for a cab and wait patiently for it, sitting on the stone fence of a fancy house. A woman comes outside the property, pretending to get the mail, but I see her eyes me good.

A wave of irritation flows through me, but I squash it. Standing from my sitting position, I turn to the woman and smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sit there. My feet are a little sore."

The woman walks over to me. She looks to be in her fifties, with kind eyes. "That's okay. You sit if you need to, doll."

My throat thickens and I choke out, "I've been walking a long time."

My phone chirps in my pocket. I pull it out.

Max calling.

I stare down at the display, devastated.

The woman steps closer. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

The simple question causes my emotions to erupt. With my phone vibrating in my hand, tears flooding my vision, I sob out, "I'm pretty sure my boyfriend just broke up with me."