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CHAPTERONE
Addy
It’s a bright,sunny day. I should be in a great mood, but I can’t seem to get up the energy for it. The peals of laughter from the children playing draw my attention, and I smile when my eyes land on my little boy. Henry is the one bright spot in my life.
He’s why I’m at the park today, even though I’d rather be at home in bed, sinking into my depression. He’s the only thing that staves off the grief that overwhelms me. It’s been three years since my William was stolen from me by a drunk driver, and I can’t seem to move forward. Henry laughs again, and it’s a bittersweet sound. William would love these little moments, and I hate that he’s not here for them.
William was so excited to be a father. We were on our way to my final doctor’s appointment when the accident happened. William was catastrophically injured in the crash and rushed straight to surgery. I had a minor head injury and was tossed into labor from the stress of the accident. It was my worst nightmare.
I cried through the delivery of Henry. William should have been there to hold my hand. He shouldn’t have been fighting for his life because of some asshole who decided to day drink then drive.
My parents rushed to the hospital, but I didn’t want them. I wanted my husband. If I couldn’t have him, I didn’t want anybody. A nameless, faceless nurse held my hand as I screamed and cried and brought a squalling baby into the world.
Henry cried and cried as if he knew he was coming into a broken world. I held him in my arms and cried with him. I finally agreed to let my parents come into the room and knew the second that my mom’s eyes welled with tears at the sight of me that something wasn’t right. A doctor followed my parents into the room, a look of apology written all over his face. I remember screaming for him to get out before he even uttered a word. I remember the nurse taking Henry from my arms and passing him over to my mom. I remember the “I’m sorry, Mrs. Perkins.” Then everything is a fog.
I wasn’t ready to accept that my partner, my best friend, my husband—my daddy—was gone. How would I ever survive it?
I lived only for Henry.
He was the only reason I got out of bed. The only reason I didn’t completely sink into oblivion. Three years later, he’s still the reason I get out of bed. My grief hasn’t ebbed in the slightest, but my baby boy needs me.
I shake myself from my dark thoughts and look for Henry. I see that he’s about to fall before he does. He’s too far away for me to rush to his side and prevent the fall, but I’m up off the bench and heading his way to check on him. He jumps up from the ground, tears streaming down his cheeks, and runs right past me to my mom.
“Are you okay, buddy?” I ask, running my hand down his back. He moves away from my touch and clings to my mom all the harder.
It’s a slap in the face. My son—my entire life—would rather his grandmother soothe him than his mommy. When did that happen?
“Let me have him,” I tell my mom.
“He doesn’t want you. Don’t upset him more,” she says, then starts carrying Henry towards the car.
I follow several steps behind them in shock over what just happened. Henry’s cries are nothing but sniffles by the time we get to the car, but my world has been rocked. Since when would my baby rather be soothed by someone other than me?
Our evening goes on like it usually does. Dinner cooked by my mom, my dad gives Henry a bath, and when I go to tuck him in, I find my mom already reading him his favorite story as he dozes off. Before I can enter the room, my mom gives me a sharp look and a shake of her head. The meaning is clear—don’t wake him. I consider ignoring her, but what’s best for Henry? Being woke up because I feel desperate for a connection to him or to let him sleep.
With a heavy heart, I turn away. I sequester myself in my bedroom and wonder when it was that I became a spectator in my own life.
William would be so disappointed in me. I’m disappointed in myself. I don’t sleep that night or the next my guilt and grief for time lost too much to bear.
* * *
It’s beentwo weeks since I started waking up to what is happening around me. It’s been two weeks of being thwarted at every opportunity I get to be the primary caregiver in my son’s life. And it’s clear that Henry often favors my parents for things over me. It’s painful, and it has to change. My parents have completely taken over and lost in my grief, I let them.
“You look like shit,” Pelar says, sitting across from me at the small café table.
“Gee, thanks,” I reply drily.
“What’s up, buttercup?”
Where do I even start?
“I just realize that I’m letting life pass me by.”
Pelar’s brow raises, and she suddenly looks very interested in what I have to say. “What made you realize this?”
I outline what happened at the park and all the other little things I’ve noticed over the last weeks. She nods her head as if she fully agrees with my assessments.
“Something has to change,” I finally say. “I don’t want Henry growing up with a mom that’s right there but absentee just the same.”
