“What?”
“I…what—you can’t just barge into my shop, drop all of this information, and then rush off. What can I do? How can I help?”
His brows lowered and he shook his head. “You can’t.” Then he climbed into his car and drove off, leaving me baffled.
My sister was missing and I had a niece fighting for her life, and there was nothing I could do to help?
I found that hard to believe.
“I’m going to go to the hospital,” I told Mari as I stepped back inside the building. “To check in on everything.”
“I’ll come too,” she offered, but I told her it was best if she kept the shop up and running. There was too much to do, and if both of us left, we would fall too far behind on everything.
“Also, keep trying to get a hold of Lyric. If she’s going to answer for one of us, it would be you.”
“Okay. Promise to call me if anything goes wrong and you need me,” she told me.
“Promise.”
When I walked into the NICU, I noticed Graham’s back first. He was sitting in a chair, hunched over, his eyes glued to the small crib that held his daughter. “Graham,” I whispered, making him look up. When he turned to see me, he looked hopeful, almost as if he thought I was Jane. The flash of hope disappeared as he stood up and stepped closer to his daughter.
“You didn’t have to come here,” he told me.
“I know. I just thought I should make sure everything was okay.”
“I don’t need the company,” he said as I stepped in closer. The closer I got, the more he tensed up.
“It’s okay if you’re sad, or scared…” I whispered, staring at the little girl’s tiny lungs working so hard to breathe. “You don’t have to be strong at all times,” I said.
“Will my weakness save her?” he snapped.
“No, but—”
“Then I won’t waste my time.”
I shifted around in my shoes. “Have you heard from my sister?”
“No.”
“She’ll be back,” I said, hoping I wasn’t a liar.
“She left me a note that said otherwise.”
“Seriously? That’s…” My words faded away before I could say it was shocking. In a way, it wasn’t. My oldest sister had always been a bit of a runner, like our father. I shifted the conversation. “What’s her name?” I asked, looking down at the tiny girl.
“There’s no point in telling people if she’s going to…” His voice cracked. His hands formed fists, and he shut his eyes. When he reopened them, something about his cold stare shifted. For a split second, he allowed himself to feel as he watched his child trying her best to live. He lowered his head and whispered, “If she’s going to die.”
“She’s still here, Graham,” I promised, nodding her way. “She’s still here, and she’s beautiful.”
“But for how long? I’m just being a realist.”
“Well, lucky for you, I’m a hope-ist.”
His hands were clenched so hard, forcing his skin to turn red. “I don’t want you here,” he told me, turning my way. For a moment, I considered how disrespectful I was, staying when I wasn’t welcome.
But then I noticed his shaking.
It was a small tremble in his body as he stared at his daughter, as he stared at the unknown. It was right then that I knew I couldn’t leave him.
I reached out and unwrapped his fists, taking his hand into my hold. I knew the child was fighting a hard battle, and I could tell Graham was also at war. As I held his hand, I noticed a small breath release from between his lips.
He swallowed hard and dropped my hand a few seconds later, but it seemed to be enough to make him stop shaking. “Talon,” he whispered, his voice low and frightened, almost as if he thought telling me her name meant kissing his child with a death wish.
“Talon,” I repeated softly, a small smile spreading across my lips. “Welcome to the world, Talon.”
Then, for the first time in my presence, Talon Russell opened her eyes.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lucy asked, unaware she’d overstayed her welcome at the hospital. She’d been to the hospital every day for the past two weeks, checking in on Talon, checking in on me. As each day passed, I grew more and more irritated by her persistence in showing up. I didn’t want her there, and it was clear that my stopping at the floral shop in search of Jane had been a bad idea.
The worst part of it all? Lucy never shut up.
She wasn’t one to ever stop talking. It was as if every thought she ever had needed to pass through her lips. What was worse was how each word was filled with positive hippie mumbo jumbo. The only things missing from her speeches were a joint, rock crystals, and a yoga mat.
“I can stay, if you need me to,” she offered once more. Talon was getting her feeding tube taken out and the doctors felt confident she’d be able to start eating on her own, which was a step in the right direction after months of uncertainty.
“Really, Graham. It’s no problem for me to stay a few more hours.”
“No. Go.”
She nodded and finally stood up. “Okay. I’ll come back tomorrow.”
“Don’t.”
“Graham, you don’t have to do this alone,” she insisted. “I can stay here and help if—”
“Don’t you see?” I snapped. “You’re not wanted. Go bother someone else with your pity.”
Her lips parted, and she took a few steps backward. “I don’t pity you.”
“Then you must pity yourself for not having a life of your own,” I muttered, not making eye contact with her yet still seeing the pained look on her face out of the corner of my eye.
“There are moments when I see you, you know—when I see how hurt you are, when I see your pain and worry, but then you go ahead and cancel it out with your rudeness.”
“Stop acting like you know me,” I told her.
“Stop acting like you’re heartless,” she replied. She went digging into her purse and pulled out a pen and paper then scribbled down her phone number. “Here, take this, in case you need me or you change your mind. I used to be a nanny, and I could give you a hand if you need it.”
“Why don’t you get it? I don’t need anything from you.”
“You think this is about you?” She snickered, shaking her head as she wrapped her fingers around her heart-shaped necklace. “It seems your egotistic ways are getting in the way of you realizing the truth of the matter. I’m not here for you. I hardly know you. The last thing my mother asked from me was to look after my sisters, and seeing as how Lyric is missing in action, I find it important for me to look after her daughter.”
“Talon is not your responsibility,” I argued.
“Maybe not,” she said. “But like it or not, she is my family, so please don’t let your pride and misplaced anger keep you from reaching out if you need me.”
“I won’t need you. I don’t need anyone,” I barked at her, feeling annoyed by her giving personality. How ridiculous it was for her to give so much of herself so freely.
Her eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, studying me. I hated the way she stared at me. I hated how when our eyes locked, she stared as if she saw a part of my soul that I hadn’t even discovered. “Who hurt you?” she whispered.
“What?”
She stepped in closer to me, unfolded my clenched hand, and placed her number in my grasp. “Who hurt you so bad and made you so cold?”
When she left, my eyes followed her, but she didn’t once look back.
Three weeks passed before the doctors and nurses informed me it was time for Talon and me to go home. It took me over two hours to make sure the car seat was installed properly, along with having five different nurses check to make sure it was securely fastened.
I’d never driven so slowly in my life, and every time I turned to check on Talon, she was sleeping peacefully.
I’m going to fuck this up.
I knew I would. I knew nothing about being a fat
her. I knew nothing about taking care of a child. Jane would’ve been great at it. Sure, she never wanted children, but she was a perfectionist. She would’ve taught herself to become the best mother in the world. She would’ve been the better option when it came to one of us caring for Talon.
My having her felt like a cruel mistake.
“Shh,” I tried to soothe her as I carried the car seat into the house. She’d started crying the moment I took her out of the car, and my gut was tightened with nerves.
Is she hungry? Does she need a diaper change? Is she too hot? Too cold? Did she just miss an inhale? Are her lungs strong enough? Will she even make it through the night?
Once Talon was in her crib, I sat on the floor beside it. Any time she moved, I was up on my feet, checking on her. Any time she didn’t shift, I was up on my feet, checking on her.
I’m going to fuck this up.
The doctors were wrong. I knew they were. They shouldn’t have sent her home yet. She wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready. She was too small, and my hands were too big.
I’d hurt her.
I’d make a mistake that would cost Talon her life.
I can’t do this.
Pulling out my cell phone, I made a call to the number I’d been calling for weeks. “Jane, it’s me, Graham. I just wanted to let you know…Talon’s home. She’s okay. She’s not going to die, Jane, and I just wanted to let you know that. You can come home now.” My grip on the phone was tight, my voice stern. “Come home. Please. I can’t…I can’t do this without you. I can’t do this alone.”
It was the same message I’d left her multiple times since the moment the doctors told me Talon was going to be discharged. But still, Jane never came back.
That night was the hardest night of my life.
Every time Talon started screaming, I couldn’t get her to stop. Every time I picked her up, I was terrified I’d break her. Every time I fed her and she wouldn’t eat, I worried about her health. The pressure was too much. How could someone so small rely on me as her life support?
How was a monster supposed to raise a child?
Lucy’s question from the last time I saw her played over and over again in my head.
Who hurt me so bad and made me so cold?
The ‘who’ part was easy.
It was the reason that was blurred.
Eleventh Birthday
The boy stood still in the darkened hallway, unsure if his father wanted him to be noticed. He’d been home alone for some time that night, and felt safer when he was the only one there. The young boy was certain his father would come home intoxicated, because that was what the past had taught him. What he wasn’t certain of was which drunken version would walk through the front door this time.
Sometimes his father was playful, other times, extremely cruel.
His father would come home so cruel that the boy would oftentimes close his eyes at night and convince himself that he’d made up the actions of the drunken man, telling himself his father would never be so cold. He’d tell himself no person could hate his own flesh and blood so much—even with the aid of alcohol.
Yet the truth of the matter was, sometimes the ones we loved most were the monsters that tucked us in at night.
“Come here, son,” the grown man called, making the boy stand up taller. He hurried himself into the living room where he spotted his father sitting with a woman. The father grinned as the woman’s hands rested in his hold. “This,” he said, his eyes light, practically shining, “is Rebecca.”
The woman was beautiful with chocolate hair that fell against her shoulders and a slender nose that fit perfectly between her brown doe eyes. Her lips were full and painted red, and when she smiled, she kind of reminded the boy of his mother.
“Hello there,” Rebecca said softly, her voice brimming with kindness and misplaced trust. She extended her hand toward the boy. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.”
The boy stayed at a distance, uncertain of what he should say or feel.
“Well,” his father scolded. “Shake her hand. Say hello, son.”
“Hello,” the boy said in a whisper, as if he was worried he was walking into his father’s trap.
“Rebecca is going to be my new wife, your new mother.”
“I have a mother,” the boy barked, his voice louder than he meant it to be. He cleared his throat and returned to his whispering sounds. “I have a mom.”
“No,” his father corrected. “She left us.”
“She left you,” the boy argued. “Because you’re a drunk!” He knew he shouldn’t have said it, but he also knew how much his heart hurt thinking that his mother would walk out on him, leaving him with the monster. His mother loved him—he was certain of that. One day she just got too scared, and that fear had driven her away.
He often wondered if she realized she’d left him behind.
He often prayed she’d come back some day.
His father sat up straighter, and his hands formed fists. As he was about to snap at his loud-mouthed son, Rebecca placed her hand on his shoulder, soothing him. “It’s okay. This is a new situation for all of us,” she said, moving her hands to rub his back. “I’m not here to replace your mom. I know she meant a lot to you, and I’d never want to take her place. But, I am hoping that someday, you’ll somehow find a place for me in your heart, too, because that’s the thing about hearts—when you think they’re completely full, you somehow find room to add a little more love.”
The boy remained silent, unsure what he should say. He could still see the anger in his father’s eyes, but something about Rebecca’s touch kept him calm. She seemed to be the beauty that somehow tamed the beast.
For that reason alone, the boy secretly hoped she’d stay the night, and perhaps the morning, too.
“Now, on to the fun things,” Rebecca said, standing up and walking over to the dining room table. She came back with a cupcake in her hand, and it bore a yellow and green striped candle. “Rumor has it that it’s your eleventh birthday. Is that true?”
The boy nodded warily.
How had she known?
His own father hadn’t even mentioned it all day.
“Then you must make a wish.” Rebecca smiled big, like his mother used to do. She reached into her purse, pulled out a lighter, and flicked on the flame. The boy watched as the candle wick began to burn, the wax slowly dripping down the sides of the candle, melting into the frosting. “Go ahead, blow out the candle and make your wish.”
He did as she said, and she smiled even wider than before.
The young boy made a mistake that night, and he didn’t even notice. It happened so quickly, between the moment he opened his mouth to blow out the candle and the moment when the flame dissipated.
In that split second, in that tiny space of time, he accidentally opened his heart and let her in.
The last woman to remember his birthday was his mother, and how he loved her so.
She reminded him so much of his mother, from her kind smile and misplaced trust, her painted lips and doe eyes to her willingness to love.
Rebecca wasn’t wrong about hearts and love. Hearts were always welcoming to new love, but when that love settled in, heartbreak sometimes began to creep in the shadows as well.
In the shadows, heartbreak poisoned the love, twisting it into something darker, heavier, uglier. Heartbreak took love and mutilated it, humiliated it, scarred it. Heartbreak slowly began to freeze heartbeats that had once been so welcoming to love.
“Happy birthday,” Rebecca said, taking a swipe of frosting from his cupcake with her finger and placing it in her mouth. “I hope all of your wishes come true.”
It was the middle of the night when my cell phone started ringing. I rolled over in my bed in search of Richard, but he wasn’t there. I glanced toward the hallway, where a light shined and light jazz music was playing, which meant he was up working on his artwork. My phone kept ringing, and I rubbed my eyes as I went to answer. “Hello?” I
yawned, trying my best to keep my eyes open. The shades were drawn in my room and no sunlight was peeking in, clearly indicating that it was far from morning.
“Lucille, it’s Graham. Did I wake you?” he asked, his voice shaky.
I heard a crying baby in the background as I sat up in my bed and yawned once more. “No, I’m always awake at three in the morning.” I chuckled. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Talon came home today.”
“That’s great.”
“No,” he replied, his voice cracking. “She won’t stop crying. She won’t eat. When she’s asleep, I think she’s dead, so I check her heartbeat, which in turns wakes her and leads to the crying again. When I put her in the crib, she screams even louder than when she’s in my arms. I need…I—”
“What’s your address?”
“You don’t have—”
“Graham, address, now.”
He complied and gave me directions to his house in River Hills, which told me at least one thing: he lived a comfortable life.
I got dressed fast, tossed my messy curly hair into an even messier bun, and hurried into the living room where I saw Richard sitting. He was intensely staring at one of his charcoal drawings.
“Still working?” I asked.
His eyes darted to me, and he raised a brow. “Where are you going?” His face was different, his full beard shaven, leaving only his mustache.
“You have no beard,” I commented. “And…a mustache.”
“Yeah, I needed inspiration, and I knew shaving my face would bring about some kind of expression. You like it?”
“It’s…” I wiggled my nose. “Artistic?”
“Which is exactly what this artist strives for. So wait, where are you going?”
“Graham just called me. He brought Talon home from the hospital and is having a lot of trouble with her.”
“It’s…” Richard glanced at his watch with narrowed eyes. He’d lost his glasses somewhere in the mess of his creation, I was certain. “Three in the morning.”