Chapter 10 - What Ryan Had Been Calling Hope
Ryan slept in the guest room.
Not because I ordered it.
He moved there himself.
The first two nights, we barely spoke.
On the third, I found him replacing the plastic taped across his truck window.
A glass company was coming the next morning.
He looked at me.
“You owe me a window.”
“I know.”
That surprised him.
“I'll pay for it.”
He nodded.
I leaned against the garage frame.
“You owe me something harder.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He put down the tape.
“I lied.”
“Yes.”
“I used your history.”
“Yes.”
“I called Hannah and Luke.”
“Yes.”
“I asked Jenna about us adopting.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward the truck.
“I thought if everybody had more time, the right answer would become obvious.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
Better.
Not enough.
I asked:
“If Jenna had said yes, what did you think would happen?”
He frowned.
“What?”
“She says, ‘Fine, you and Claire adopt her.’ Then what?”
“I'd tell you.”
“When?”
His face tightened.
“I don't know.”
“Before or after bringing the baby home?”
He looked away.
I laughed softly.
“That's the problem.”
“I was not going to adopt a child without you.”
“But you were willing to create enough momentum that saying no would feel like I was taking a baby away.”
He went still.
Maybe he had not let himself phrase it that way.
I continued.
“You thought the baby would do the persuasion.”
He sat on the tailgate.
For a while he said nothing.
Then:
“Yes.”
The admission made me sadder than another argument would have.
I sat beside him.
Not close.
“Why?”
His eyes stayed on the driveway.
“Because I didn't know what to do with how unhappy you were.”
“That was two years ago.”
“I know.”
“You keep freezing me there.”
He looked at me.
I continued.
“I changed.”
“I know.”
“Did you?”
His face tightened.
I had asked something larger than the baby.
Ryan had always solved.
Flights.
Contractors.
Family disputes.
When my father got sick, Ryan built a spreadsheet before I had finished crying.
Sometimes that was love.
Sometimes it meant nobody else got to sit inside uncertainty long enough to hear themselves.
He said:
“When we stopped trying, I thought you gave up because you were tired.”
“I was tired.”
“I thought you still wanted the same thing.”
“Maybe I did.”
He looked confused.
I continued.
“Wanting a child and consenting to adopt Jenna’s child are still different.”
“Yes.”
“Loving your sister and respecting her adoption plan are different.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“I’m hearing you.”
“Good.”
That word came out harsher than intended.
He flinched anyway.
I softened nothing.
He said:
“I don't know how to make this right.”
“You can't make it right.”
His face dropped.
I continued.
“You can stop making it worse.”
That evening, he did something small.
Jenna called me.
Ryan was in the kitchen.
He saw her name on my screen.
He stood.
Then walked outside.
Didn't ask me afterward what she said.
I noticed.
I hated that I noticed.
The next morning he told Evelyn she could not come over without asking me first.
I heard only his side.
“No, Mom.”
Pause.
“I know.”
Pause.
“No. Claire doesn’t need to understand why.”
Longer pause.
“Because it's her house too.”
He looked exhausted when he hung up.
I was standing in the hallway.
He saw me.
Neither of us said anything.
Then my phone rang.
Jenna.
I answered.
Her voice sounded calmer.
“Can you come tomorrow?”
“Where?”
“Hannah and Luke's.”
I held the phone tighter.
“Why?”
“I want to talk to them one more time.”
Ryan watched my face.
He did not ask.
Jenna continued:
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Don't bring Ryan.”
I looked at my husband.
He could tell.
His face tightened.
May you like
Then he nodded once.
He didn't need me to explain.
