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“Just pray he finds another way to entertain himself.”
“Caiti…” He pauses, and I know what’s coming before he says it.
“No, Jason. Just no. Getting him fired will piss him off, and he might escalate things.”
“He might escalate anyway.”
I pray that’s not the case. “He has to get bored eventually, right?”
“Some creepy asshole is harassing you, and you’ve got jokes. Nice,” he deadpans.
“What would you prefer I do?”
“You’re always welcome to stay with Kathleen and me.”
The breath I take releases a substantial weight. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay.”
“Just stay safe.”
“Will do.” I hang up, feeling lighter than I have in a while. I’ve had this job since I found out I was pregnant, but Jason’s only been my boss for about six months. Between the remote work and his understanding nature, I’m grateful for the ability to temporarily escape.
Now a new problem lies ahead.
Showing up on the porch of the only man I’ve slept with since my husband died and explaining why I kept his child a secret.
I didn’t want to drop the bomb over the phone, and I live on the other side of the United States.
The first few weeks after her birth, I’d lie awake between late-night feeds and dream about getting in my car to make the two-day drive from Denver, Colorado, to Arrow Creek, West Virginia. I’d show up with a small bundle wrapped in my arms, her full head of dark hair peeking out of her favorite pink fleece blanket. Night after night, I’d script out a full apology for not disclosing the pregnancy. But as time moved on, the less likely it seemed I’d ever get out of this house and across the country. The flimsier my excuses seemed until it felt like I simply waited too long.
What would I say to him now?
He never wanted kids. He stated that with such finality, I knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden him. We both fell into bed that night, and even though I fled with tears of guilt by morning, his lack of contact felt like a sign.
A little hand fists a lock of my hair. “We go to park now?”
“How would you like to go on a trip instead?”
Two days of travel later,I click the blinker and turn down a street I’ve seen once before. The dense fog in my head slightly recedes. A memory from years ago jogs free from the heavy veil separating me from the brunt of my reality. One filled with laughter and love and friends.
As if conjured by the thought, my cell phone rings. I don’t have to check the time to know it’s Saturday at noon. Evie’s calling to leave me my weekly voicemail, knowing I won’t pick up. Hearing his sister’s voice after I left her without so much as a goodbye cuts me to pieces and reminds me how badly I fucked up.
I automatically flick my gaze into the rearview and scan the back seat.
Facing Evie is only a matter of time.
Especially now as I cruise painfully slow down a quiet street. My eyes slit against the midday sun in order to scan the buildings. My fingers wrap tighter around the leather steering wheel as the sign to the bar comes into view.
Calypso’s.
Pain immediately assaults me. Sweat coats my palms, slickening my grip. The light memories from a few moments ago assail me at full force upon seeing the building in person for the first time in years, pummeling me until I might actually be sick all over my plain white long-sleeved tee and black leggings. Despite my feelings, the nearly empty street allows me to easily navigate the alley behind the building without incident. The cease of the engine as I turn the key is deafening.
We made it. The lack of relief is telling.
I shove down the guilt rising with the other emotions plaguing me and swing my door open.
“Momma?”
I slam my eyes shut and suck in a sharp breath through my nose at the sound of her sweet little voice. Thankfully, she can’t see my face from her seat when I stand.
If she could, she’d witness her mother breaking. The slip of hot tears wetting my cheeks. A steady tremble of the same lips I use to kiss her before bed each night and upon waking each morning. How can something feel so selfish and selfless at the exact same time?
I use the moment outside the car to compose myself. My sleeve works as a coarse tissue to dry my eyes. The crisp breeze shocks my overheated system into calming down. Only a few minutes of composure are needed. A few minutes, and I can be free to break down completely alone with Ophelia safe until I’m wrung out.
With a steely breath, I tug open the rear passenger door and tack a plastic smile on my face.
“You did great, baby.” I press a kiss on the top of her head, not missing the opportunity to inhale her unique scent. The second the buckle releases, she launches into my arms. I’m unprepared for the ball of weight crashing into my chest, and I can’t tell if it hurts from the force or from all I’m holding back.
“Where we going?”
My throat seizes and threatens to reveal all the cracks in my plan.
“We’re going to meet your daddy.” I manage to whisper.
Her little eyes, so dark like mine, squint adorably in confusion. In response, I pull her tighter against my chest. No words will be able to adequately explain to an almost three-year-old what’s going on, so I don’t bother to try.
With the reminder of why I’m doing this attached firmly to my hip, I sling the overnight bag I hastily packed over my other shoulder. I dip my gaze down to the head of curly black hair and the chubby thumb wedged between a pair of soft pink lips, and crack a brittle smile just as a sharp pain grips the left side of my chest.
“Ouch,” I mumble beneath my breath and force myself to forget it. We make the short walk to the door that I know firsthand leads to an apartment above the bar.
I swiftly shove down the mounting memories and raise a hand to knock. Maybe I should have called first. Or checked with Evie to verify he still lives here. The sudden intrusion of second thoughts jars me into surveying my surroundings. Before I can decide to turn back or forge ahead, another chest pain, followed by a squeeze, sends fear hurtling through me.
Somewhere through the roar in my ears, I register my fist connecting with the wooden door, the intensity increasing until I’m outright banging. Sweat coats my palms, another one of the many strange sensations running through me at once. A current races down my middle, my legs, my feet, turning the limbs weak and numb. My keys fall from my grip onto the concrete step, forgotten.
I’m going to collapse.
The thought courses on a continuous loop to the soundtrack of my fist.
