The month of February always gets me in an evil mood. Perhaps it is because it was during the Valentine's holidays many years ago, that I felt I was deeply in love. We met at the beginning of the year, but it was during those first weeks in February that things changed for me. I realized that I could protest as much as I wanted, but declaring that I didn't want to be in love with anyone didn't mean anything. You can fight against the feeling as much as you want, but sometimes you just give in or else you’ll just go crazy if you don't. So, we went crazy for awhile. It was a whirlwind time; months passed by in a second, and suddenly it was almost summer vacation. And by then, I knew I had some choices to make.

He had carefully broached the subject of us renting a summer sublet together; I was noncommittal. I enjoyed his company, but I knew that our relationship really couldn't go any further. He made me laugh, I loved dancing with him, and he would sing me silly songs when I was feeling down. We both really liked each other but there was something elusive in our relationship. I tried my best to be interested in what he liked, but there were just so many things that we did not have in common. He wanted to get married and I wanted to see the world. He wanted stability, and I was in town simply because of school. In a couple of years, I would be moving on again.

So, we ended it. It was a difficult conversation to initiate, but I felt we parted with no hard feelings. He was going tree-planting for the summer, and I was enrolled in an intensive summer arts program. We exchanged numbers, even though neither of us was really sure where we were going to be in the next couple of months. After he left, I was relieved. Like I said, we had a lot of fun, but I wanted more, and I think he did too. Maybe that's why he took the idea of us spending more time apart so easily.

Several weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Suddenly, everything that I had planned, seemed impossible to attain. I knew, even then, that I didn't want him to come back to me. I figured that if he wanted to play a part in my child's life, it would be fine. He deserved that opportunity. I tried to reach him, but the telephone number he gave me was out of service. I called several of his friends, all of whom said that he was up tree-planting and they didn't expect to hear from him until the fall. I, too, figured that I would eventually see him in September, so I didn't pay much attention to that. I did the best I could. I continued on with school, and during my winter break I had a beautiful baby girl. I went back to school with the rest of the students in January.

And then, shit hit the fan. I found out that he had known pretty much all along that I was pregnant. He figured if I wanted him to know, I would have gotten in touch with him. (He didn't mention hearing from his friends that I did try to reach him.) He quickly stated that he wanted to see her, and definitely felt that he was going to do his duty by us. To make a long story short, he saw her once, and then nothing. I didn't try to get back in touch with him after that. Our last conversation wasn't bad, but I think he was overwhelmed. I think that meeting her finally made him realize that it was actually happening, that she was actually real. I didn't hear from him for almost six years. Later on, I heard that he didn't want to get involved because he was worried about the financial responsibility.

By some strange fluke, we managed to have a telephone conversation several months ago. I figured he had left town again since I hadn't seen him around in many years. Turns out he got married. Had another child. Gained enough weight to make me understand that I had seen him around, but had not even recognized him. (The strange thing is, he said that he had seen Kole and I around pretty much every day for the past couple of years. I didn't remember seeing him at my local coffee shop or at any of the other places that I usually go to during the week, but I suppose it was possible because of the small size of our town.) During our conversation, he stated that he and his wife had discussed the situation, and they both felt it best that he stay out of my daughter's life for the time being. If Kole wanted to get in touch with him after she turned 18, then he would welcome that possibility. “Until then, though...” and he was silent.

I guess the reason why the title of this little story is “Angry, Bitter, Single Parent” is because I am incredulous that a person can just go and do that. I’m not upset for myself, but for my daughter. She doesn’t (and will never) know that the only reason why he isn’t a part of her life is because of financial cowardice. I hadn’t planned on parenthood either, but we had a discussion about that before it happened. (I don’t believe in abortion, for myself, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He was always for helping out, if anything unexpected ever happened.) Another reason for the title is this: I saw him the other day and now I know what he was talking about.

He works at the gas station where I fill up my car, practically every couple of days without fail. He pumps my gas, and he has never said a word to me at all. Now, I’m not so surprised that I have never recognized him. He looks like a completely different person. So, I did what he did. Pretended not to notice him. As if it wasn’t obvious: I can’t believe I never understood what he meant. He peered into the car window, straining for a glance of her. His eyes were fixated on her as I let her get out of the car to help wash the car windows. His eyes were almost greedy for every single second he could watch her.

And now I know that there is a price to having children. It’s not really about dollars and cents, but more what you are ready to pay for, to give up and to save for towards the future. What he has lost, is irreplaceable. What he has freely given up, he will never be able to get back again. I wonder what he lost when he said those words, “I don’t think we should keep in contact, I can’t handle it at this point in my life.” I wonder if it hurt him to say it, or if he thought that it would hurt my daughter if she ever found out. I wonder if he’s ashamed of his selfishness, and I wonder if this is a ‘guy thing’, to be able to turn your back on a child.

The only thing that I am sure of is that I did the right thing. I took responsibility for our actions, and have been so lucky to have a healthy, happy, girl. There are endless problems of being a single parent, but not one of them is insurmountable if it means enough to you. And my daughter means the world to me. Now I know what it means to be a responsible person. Now, I know what love is.