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“Lucy’s blood pressure rose to dangerously high levels, and she had to be admitted. That’s how we found out she was pregnant. She was in a severe depressive state during her entire pregnancy, blaming herself for Ben’s death. When Lizzy was born, she snapped out of it for a while, but it only lasted for six months. She started out using Nyquil to help her sleep at night, but when that didn’t help anymore, she moved to pills. Eventually, she started using stronger stuff. She hid it well for a while, but we ended up finding out when I went to visit and found her passed out on the floor, with Lizzy screaming her head off, sitting beside her.”
My hands ball into fists as I remember that day so clearly. I knew ten feet away from the front door that something was wrong. I could hear Lizzy’s cries and ran inside. Seeing Lizzy, her face red and soaked with tears, and Lucy lying on the floor like she was sleeping soundly, had fear freezing my blood. Rushing over, I felt for a pulse and thanked God when I found one.
“We spoke with Lucy once she came to in the hospital. She explained that she was having problems sleeping, and must have taken too much sleeping medicine. We were stupid when we believed her. She became distant from us and her own family, who were living in California. We’d still check on her from time to time, or when we would take Lizzy for a few days, but we never suspected it had gotten bad again. Lizzy always looked taken care of. Her clothes were clean, her weight was good, and she seemed like a happy baby. You could clearly see the love Lizzy had for her mom and Lucy had for her. She was a good mom.
“One day, several weeks back, my mom got a call from Lucy’s neighbor. Lizzy had somehow gotten out of the house and was wandering the street. Luckily, the neighbor saw her and had Mom’s number for emergency purposes. Lucy had overdosed on OxyContin, and was barely alive when the paramedics arrived. She’s in rehab now, and will be for the next six months. Come to find out, she had been doing drugs the whole time. We still don’t know how she managed to take care of Lizzy as well as she did. The only thing I can think of is she knew deep down that my brother was watching over her and would be heartbroken if something had happened to Lizzy. I think that Lizzy is the only thing that kept Lucy alive.”
Abby has tears traveling down her face by the time I’m done. She looks so sad. I hate that she looks that way, especially because I know she’s an incredibly strong woman who probably doesn’t show her emotions very often.
I get up from my seat, walk around to her, pick her up, and sit back down in her chair with her in my lap.
“I am so unbelievably sorry, Colt,” she says, sniffling and wiping at the tears spilling down her face. “And poor Lizzy. I can’t imagine what she must be going through. She’s too young to lose both of her parents like that.”
I wipe away the leftover tears she missed. “From what you and my mother say, she seems to be doing good. As much as we know it hurts her, not seeing her mom, we’ve kept her away from the rehab facility, but she does talk to Lucy on the phone every day. I think having that connection and making new friends at preschool helps.”
“How’s Lucy doing? Do you think she’ll get better?”
I nod, giving her a tender smile, trying to wipe away the sad look from her face. “Yes, I do. She loves Lizzy too much to not get better. Although, Lucy needs to do it for herself, or it’ll never work. I think Lizzy will be the one to show her that her life has more meaning than what she was giving it. That she may have lost my brother, but she gained a sweet little girl in return.”
“I hope she does.”
I lean forward and kiss her sweet lips. “Are you still hungry?”
She glances down at our forgotten food and pulls in a shaky breath, getting herself back under control.
“Yes.”
Another kiss to her lips, I get up and put her back down and retake my own seat. We eat and talk. I make sure things stay on a lighter note, because I know the conversation we’re going to have later will be heavy. I want to keep her in a good mood for as long as possible.
Once we’re finished eating, Abby insists she rinses and puts the dishes in the dishwasher, while I put the leftovers in containers and deposit them in the fridge. I grab another bottle of wine, and we both go into the living room. I noticed during dinner that Abby started getting fidgety, and a crease of pain pinched her forehead. Her legs bounced underneath the table, and her hands started wringing the napkin in her lap. I know it’s the cravings she’s starting to feel. I just don’t know why she hasn’t approached me yet. I should bring it up myself, but I want her to come to me. I want her to choose me.
I sit on one end of the couch, and Abby tries to sit on the other. Just before her ass meets the cushion, I reach over and pull her down until we’re both lying on the couch, me tucked against the back, with her head on my chest. I pull one of her legs over my thigh.
“You need to stop this pulling me everywhere. I go where I want to go, not where you want me to go,” she grumbles, but still snuggles next to me. I don’t miss how she presses her pelvis against my thigh, or the sharp inhale of breath she takes.
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“You know you want to be right where you are. Why fight it?”
She pinches my side, but I laugh and grab her hand, bringing it up to my lips for a kiss.
My laughter dies down and my thumb makes circles on the small patch of exposed skin from her shirt riding up.
We lay in silence for several minutes, before I decide to break it.
“You said you get cravings every day. Do you have them all day?”
She traces the letters on my T-shirt as she says, “There’s a tiny twinge there all the time, but I can ignore it. It’s not until the evenings it gets bad.”
“Are you in pain now?” I ask.
“Yes, but it’s not so bad right now. It’ll start getting worse soon.”
I took note of the time while we were in the kitchen. It’s just past seven in the evening. I store this information away.
“Have you ever tried taking care of it yourself?”
She rubs her nose along my pec at the same time her hand goes underneath my shirt to settle on my stomach. Her hands against my bare flesh tries to distract me, and I have to force myself to focus on her answer.
