The days after his return were uncomfortable.
Not entirely bad.
Just unfamiliar.
Russell began calling.
Sometimes he asked about Maisie's school day.
Sometimes he wanted to know what she had been doing.
I answered when I could.
I didn't make the conversations longer than necessary.
I was still trying to understand what his return meant.
Maisie, on the other hand, seemed to accept him more easily.
She looked forward to his calls.
She told him about her drawings.
She asked him questions.
Sometimes she asked whether he would visit again.
He usually said he would try.
I noticed that she listened carefully whenever he answered.
She wanted certainty.
I understood why.
One afternoon, Russell came to see her again.
He arrived while she was finishing something at the table.
She ran to the door.
"Daddy!"
He smiled.
"Hello, sweetheart."
She showed him what she had been working on.
It was a drawing.
She had used several colors.
There was a house.
There were three people.
I looked at it.
Russell looked too.
He was quiet.
Maisie pointed.
"That's Mommy."
Then she pointed to the second figure.
"That's me."
She touched the third figure.
"And that's you."
Russell looked at her.
"That's a beautiful drawing."
She smiled.
I looked away.
I didn't know what to do with that picture.
It was innocent.
It was hopeful.
It was also a reminder of what had been missing.
Russell asked where she wanted to put it.
Maisie said she wanted to keep it.
He nodded.
"Then we should find a safe place."
She took his hand.
They went to look for somewhere to put it.
I stayed in the kitchen.
I could hear them talking.
For a moment, I allowed myself to enjoy the sound.
Then I remembered the paper.
I went into the living room.
Russell was helping Maisie arrange her drawing.
I waited until she went to get something.
Then I spoke.
"Have you decided when you're going to tell me everything?"
He turned.
"I haven't forgotten."
"That isn't what I asked."
He looked down.
"I need a little more time."
I felt the old frustration return.
"Russell, you already took two years."
He nodded.
"I know."
"How much more time do you need?"
He didn't answer.
I looked at him.
"You're doing it again."
He looked confused.
"Doing what?"
"Making me wait without telling me why."
He seemed to understand.
"I'm sorry."
I didn't respond.
He continued.
"I know I can't ask you to keep waiting."
"Then don't."
He nodded.
I glanced toward the hallway.
Maisie was still away.
I lowered my voice.
"I need to know whether you're here because you want to be her father again or because you feel guilty about what happened."
He looked at me.
"Both things can be true."
I hadn't expected that answer.
He continued.
"I feel guilty. I should. But I also want to be here."
I studied his face.
"Then show her."
"I will."
I raised my hand.
"One day at a time, Russell."
He nodded.
I could tell he wanted to say more.
But he didn't.
Maisie returned with Bunny.
She asked her father whether he could read to her.
He agreed.
They sat together.
I watched him turn the pages.
He listened as she read some of the words herself.
When she struggled, he helped her.
She smiled whenever she got something right.
I remembered all the evenings when I had done that alone.
I wasn't jealous.
I wasn't angry at Maisie for wanting her father.
I was simply aware of the time that had passed.
Later, when Russell was preparing to leave, Maisie asked whether he would come again.
He said he would call.
She nodded.
Then she hugged him.
I watched from the doorway.
He held her a little longer than necessary.
When he finally stood, he looked at me.
"I know I have a lot to make right."
I nodded.
"Yes, you do."
He left.
Maisie returned to her drawing.
I went into the kitchen.
The house was quiet again.
But this time, I didn't feel the same emptiness as before.
I still had questions.
I still didn't trust his promises.
But I could see that he was trying to spend time with our daughter.
I needed to know whether that effort would continue.
And I needed him to understand that being present was not something he could do only when it suited him.
Click here to continue reading: PART 16: I Thought His Return Would Give Me Answers, but the Truth Was That I Still Didn’t Know Why He Had Left
The Morning My Husband Walked Away Without an Argument, Leaving Me With a Little Girl Who Still Believed He Would Come Home
Part 15 of 20
