by A. R. Breck
“So… we’re okay?”
He sneers, “Absolutely not.” Then shuts of the truck, hopping out and leaving me all alone.
I sniffle, trying to ignore the burning in my nose and throat. The tears that want to escape and how I have anymore is completely unknown to me. I feel like all I do is cry nowadays and I don’t know how to stop. Part of me feels like I’m doing the right thing and the other part of me feels so conflicted.
All I can hope is that one day Jackson realizes that this is for the best.
Hopping out, I follow Jackson to the front door. Before I can even ring the bell, the door swings open and there stands a younger couple with bright, hopeful looks on their faces. It both reassures me and makes me feel extremely guilty.
Because a part of me doesn’t want this.
They look down at my stomach and their eyes grow wide with delight. They grab onto each other’s hands and look up at me with so much happiness on their faces it throws me through a loop.
“You must be Cara. My name is Amanda.” Mrs. Simmons says, opening her arms for a hug. I stiffen but step forward. She wraps her arms around me as I keep mine to my side, stiff as a rail. Flowers and cookies waft into my nose.
I think she’s too overwhelmed to notice my discomfort, because when she steps back all she does is wipe a tear from her cheek.
Her dark blonde hair is tied into a loose pony at the back of her head. The white and red floral dress she’s wearing ends just above the knee. As I look at this woman in front of me, I don’t think I’ve seen anyone more perfect than Amanda. Rose would seriously approve of her.
“I’m so happy you made it. Was your drive okay?” She touches my arm as she smiles down at me. It’s like she’s making sure I’m real. That I’m standing here and not just a figment of her imagination.
“It was fine.”
“Hi, Cara. Nice to meet you. I’m Colton.” Mr. Simmons steps forward in blue jeans and a collared shirt. His short brown hair is swept to the side, and the glasses on his face match the professor vibe completely. I bet his students at his school fawn over him every day.
“Hi.” I smile, thankful that he just shakes my hand. I don’t think I could go in for another hug.
“And I’m sorry, my name is Amanda. What’s your name?” Amanda turns towards Jackson with her hand out, and he stares at it like it’s a rotting fish at the edge of the shore.
Silence hangs in the air much like Amanda’s hand does. It awkward and tense until Jackson grabs Amanda’s hand.
“Jackson. The father.”
Amanda’s eyes flare and Colton shifts from foot to foot with unease. The atmosphere on this front step of the Simmons’ cookie cutter house turns ominous with just the word father.
They know. They one hundred percent know that Jackson is not on board with the adoption. It’s in the tone of his voice and the look on his face. It’s in the way his body is tense.
I just hope he sticks to his word and doesn’t ruin this.
“Oh. Oh! Okay, I didn’t realize you were in the picture. It was never mentioned…” Amanda trails off, wringing her hands together and looking up at Colton for help.
He looks down at her like he has no idea what to do. Clearing his throat, he looks back at the both of us. “Well, we’re certainly glad you’re here! Come on in, let’s have a chat and get to know each other a little bit, yeah?”
“Uh, sure.” I give them a stiff smile and follow them inside. I can hear Jackson sigh behind me and can feel his angry presence follow me inside.
Upon entering, a genuine smile breaks free when I see the warm touches everywhere. Even without children currently, their house is meant to feel like a home, and it does just that. I don’t think I’ve ever stepped into a place that has felt this much love in every room. Pictures of family members and vases full of flowers litter the walls. They even have one of those stupid signs that have motivational words in the entryway. The windows are open, letting the fall breeze inside.
They bring us to the front sitting room where there’s a couch and two sitting chairs surrounding a coffee table with cookies and what I think is lemonade in an oversized pitcher.
Seriously, is this family for real?
I glance back at Jackson, hoping he can crack a smile when he sees how ridiculously hard there trying to make this perfect, but of course, Jackson is one again wearing his poker face. He doesn’t even glance at me, instead keeping his focus on Colton and Amanda.
“Please, take a seat. Would either of you like cookies or lemonade? Both are made fresh from this morning.”
“I’ll take a cookie.” I say out of politeness.
“And what about you, Jackson?” Amanda says, pouring a glass of lemonade.
I take a bite of the soft cookie and look over at Jackson. He’s staring at Colton and Colton is staring right back. It’s almost like they’re in the middle of some internal battle that I’m not privy to.
“Jackson?” I nudge him with my elbow, and he snaps his gaze to Amanda.
“No.” He utters.
I sit back in my chair and stuff my face with the cookie. It’s delicious, but I also need to fill my mouth to stop from snapping off. I would’ve rather him not even come if he’s just going to sit here and be rude to the both of them.
We sit there and eat cookies and sip lemonade for a few minutes, awkwardly staring at each other and trying to work through the tension. At least I am, hoping that we can all loosen up. I’m not sure what they’re thinking. Maybe they can’t wait until we leave, so they can call the entire thing off.
“Beautiful home.” I say, now worried they won’t want to be the adoptive parents now that they’ve seen what a train wreck we are. “How long have you lived here?”
“Oh, boy. How long has it been, Colton? Maybe about six years now?” She brushes her hand down his arm and he looks down at her with adoration.
“Almost seven.” He says with a smile.
“Yes, that sounds about right. It’s been wonderful. The neighborhood is nice. We have a really wonderful elementary school nearby. Such a lovely area.” She says.
“So,” I start. “You’re a professor,” I point to Colton, “and you’re a bakery store owner?” They both nod at me. “What are you planning to do for daycare? Are you going to have enough time between all that work to take care of a baby?”
Worry lines form around Amanda’s eyes. “Yes, there will be plenty of time. We’ve actually been talking, and I think it’ll be best if I take a year off that first year to spend time with the baby.”
“What about after that?” That’s great for the time being, but what about after? There will be a lot of years before the baby goes to school that it will need full time care.
“Well, my mom lives nearby, and she recently retired. We’ve discussed her coming over during the day while we’re working. If that doesn’t work out, there’s a wonderful daycare center in town.”
I nod, not really sure how I feel about my baby going to a daycare center. But what do I know? And what is my other choice? It doesn’t matter what family I choose; the baby will have to go to some sort of daycare. My only option is to find a stay at home mom, and I didn’t see any of those in the adoption papers.
Colton stares at me. “I see you hesitating. Is something the matter?”
“N-no. I think you guys would be great parents.”
Amanda tears up at that. Colton grabs onto her hands and gives me a grateful look. “Thank you for saying that. That means a lot.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be emotional. It’s just… we’ve been trying for so long.” Amanda grabs a tissue and wipes her eyes. “We started trying to have a baby about five years ago. We tried for two years before going to a specialist. We tried everything, nothing worked. Finally, last year we decided to try for adoption. You’re the first person who has shown interest, and I can’t tell you how much it means to us. We will do everything in our power to give the baby the best life possible. That, I promise you
.”
“Wow.” I say, my own eyes filling with tears. I see the both of them in a whole new light. This isn’t something they’re doing to prove a point, or just because they don’t want to go through the stresses of pregnancy or whatever. They’ve legitimately tried every avenue and from the look their eyes, they are desperate to be parents.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to turn into a blubbering mess. I’ve actually been really excited. Colton’s had to tell me off from buying baby things. He’s saying it’s too early. That you still might change your mind or maybe not want to pick us after meeting us. I’m just really excited.” Her eyes are hurricanes of emotions. Excitement and nervousness battle over each other and I know she’s been a wreck.
It only makes me feel even more conflicted.
“You don’t need to be worried about me changing my mind. Where I live—where we live—isn’t a good place to raise a baby. I don’t have anything to offer it. I don’t have a job or anything. I barely graduated high school. This is for the best.” I choke up at the end and have to swallow down the lump in my throat to stop from crying.
I look over at Jackson, and he’s staring at me. Poker face is gone and in its place is frustration. I know that he knows this is the right thing to do. He just doesn’t want it to be true.
“Oh my, you have no idea how much that means to me. I promise you, Cara, we’ll do right by this child.”
“Did you still want to be in the baby’s life? Have communication and all that? Because we want you to know, we’ll be fine with whatever decision you choose.” Colton says, leaning forward and looking between Jackson and me.
I think about that. Watching the baby grow up from afar and watching it call Amanda mom. And what would I be? Cara?
“No. I don’t.” My heart shreds into pieces at that statement, but I know it would absolutely tear me apart to watch my own child grow into a beautiful human at the hands of someone else. It would completely destroy me.
Both Colton and Amanda nod. “I understand.” Colton says.
“So, are you going to find out? If it’s a boy or a girl?” Amanda says, trying to lighten up the conversation.
“We found out last week.”
Amanda gasps. “Really? What is it? Do you mind me asking?” She looks at Colton, complete joy and eagerness in her gaze.
“It’s a boy.”
Amanda’s eyes go wide as she looks at Colton. “It’s a boy!” She whispers, and he grabs her into his arms and squeezes here. “It’s a boy!” She says again. Looking at me, she says, “Wow! That’s so great!”
I don’t feel any of the excitement she’s feeling. She’s going to be the one to name him. She’ll be the one to dress him and decorate the nursery. She’ll be the one fending off all the girls one day.
Not me.
I smile at her when I feel myself choking up again. This is starting to become too much. I feel like this is right, but it’s so hard. Does anyone go through this process without being torn in two? I can’t even imagine.
“How do you feel about the whole situation?” Colton asks Jackson, and I turn cold.
Shit.
Turning towards Jackson, I see him staring at me. He has a million things to say and none of them very nice. He doesn’t really speak to people though, so I’m hoping he keeps things to a minimum.
“Me?” He points to his chest.
Oh, no.
Colton nods, and I bite my lip in anticipation in what is bound to be something negative. Or threatening.
“I think this is fucked up. This girl here was dating my best friend until he died. One thing led to another and we ended up getting together. She’s pregnant, and to be honest, I don’t know whether the baby is mine or his. She’s worried about not being able to care for the baby because my mom’s a druggie and hers is a drunk, but it pisses me right the fuck off that she doesn’t trust I can care for my child. Whether it’s biologically mine or not, that’s my child in her belly. I think she’s gone through so much that she’s conflicted on what’s right or wrong, and I think she’s going to regret this shit the day after she gives the baby up. But, we’ve fought so many times about this shit and I can see she’s serious about it. If she thinks it’s for the best, I won’t stand in her way. I don’t agree with this shit at all, but I won’t fuck it up for her.” I hold my breath through his shockingly long speech. Tears are falling down my cheeks as he speaks from the bottom of his heart with these words that sink like heavy tear drops to the deepest pits of my belly.
He looks over at me. “But I can’t sit in here anymore and pretend I’m okay with this. So, I’m going to wait out in the car until you’re finished.” He stands up, lifting his hand in a wave and letting himself out.
With my jaw to the floor, I look back at Colton and Amanda and see them with the same shocked expressions.
“I-I think I should go.” I stand up after a few awkward moments of silence, suddenly wanting nothing more than to talk to Jackson. I want to hold him and kiss him and tell him I feel the same way. I don’t want to give this baby up, either.
And I want to tell him that I’m proud of him. He’s acting like an adult and not losing his shit, even though he clearly wants to. He could have threatened these people, but he didn’t.
“Okay, I understand. But, will you call? Keep us updated?” Amanda scrambles to the other room, coming back with a paper and pen. “Call me anytime. You need anything, and I mean anything, please call me. I don’t care what time it is. I want this to be as stress free as possible, and of course it’s stressful for you but—”
“Amanda.” Colton lays a hand on her arm. “I think she gets it.”
Amanda’s face tinges pink with embarrassment. “Of course. Here.” She hands me the sheet of paper. “I meant what I said.”
“I know.” I smile, lifting my hand in a wave. “Thanks for having me.”
“No, thank you, Cara. Drive safe.” Colton says as he walks me to the door.
I give them one more smile before walking out. I hear the door shut behind me but have no doubt they’re probably looking through the front window making sure they don’t need to call the police.
Jackson sits in the car, not meeting my gaze as I approach.
Opening the door, I slide in and look over at the angry man beside me. “Jackson…”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He turns on the car and pulls out without another word.
“I just wanted to say—”
“Please, Cara. I don’t want to talk about it right now.” He says, completed defeated. Like he’s giving up on this child. On me.
That’s not what I want at all.
“But—"
“Cara, I don’t want to talk about it. Not right now, okay? We’ll talk about it later.” His tone turns aggravated as he grits the words through his teeth, and I know he’s barely hanging on.
I nod my head, ignoring the burning in my throat as I sink into the seat. I want to melt into it and never come out. I want to disappear and maybe come back seven months ago so I could have made different decisions.
I would change Logan’s outcome, but then what would happen to Jackson?
As I look at him, I wonder if anything would’ve happened to us had Logan stayed alive. Maybe Logan and I would have broken up and me and Jackson would’ve gotten together eventually. I think both our guilt would’ve been lessened. I certainly wouldn’t feel like I do now.
All I know is that as every day goes on, I’m finding myself burrowing further and further into my emotions for Jackson.
And I don’t think I hate it.
19
Jackson
Cara walks into her house with her shoulders slumped and a black cloud hanging over her head. We didn’t talk for the rest of the car ride, but I know she wanted me to say something. Her desperation was written in each breath she took. I could taste the pleading like a bitter fruit.
I couldn’t say anything, though.
I need to work through these
emotions instead of acting on rage. Not around Cara, at least. I need to figure out what my next move is.
Sitting in front of this couple who wanted to raise my child was a sweet torture that even I didn’t even find amusing. It was terrible, plain, and simple.
I think the worst part was knowing that Cara was right. Without a doubt, Colton and Amanda could give my son a better life than I could. The pure love and need they had to be parents was written on their faces. They need the kid just as much as I need the kid, if not more.
I just don’t know how I can give my baby up without fighting with everything I have in me.
I park Easton’s truck in front of his house and leave the keys underneath the seat. Not in the mood to talk, otherwise I’d walk them into him. He’ll grill me about the parents and give me some kind of low-down on what I should do next.
I don’t need a pep talk; I need a fucking joint and a bloody body.
Walking through my door, I see my mom once again sitting on the couch. Passed out. Rubber band tied around her arm and needle still embedded in the vein.
I walk over to her, ready to start my regular routine of cleaning up her messes and making her look somewhat presentable.
I pick up the table, tossing the trash and emptying her ashtray. I throw away the old needles and bag up the rest of her drugs. I cringe when I pull the needle out of her arm. Snort shit and smoke shit, that’s cool with me. It crosses a line when you start injecting the shit into your veins.
Fucking disgusting.
It’s when I untie the rubber band around her arm that I notice something is different. I drop the band on the table and turn to look at my mom.
“Mom?”
Nothing. No response. Not unusual.
What is unusual is that she doesn’t even take a breath.
“Mom.” I grab her chin and turn her face to the side, heart race kicking into full speed when realization hits me.
“Fuck, Mom!” I jump back from her and run my hand down my face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck!”