by Elena Aitken
The new mint-green teddy would have been her baby’s bubba.
And now she’d never hold it. Never carry it around with her, insisting she couldn’t leave the house without it. There’d be no frantic searches late at night when she’d misplaced the bear and absolutely could not sleep without it. Maren would never have to perform surgery to repair a rip. There would be no teddy bear picnics in the living room while her little girl danced around in princess dresses and demanded they play dress-up and drink lemonade from tiny cups.
There would be none of those memories. Because her little girl was gone.
Gone before she ever had a chance.
Tears streamed down her face as she clenched the bear to her chest and let herself sob.
There was no telling how long she sat there, cradling the bear and rocking back and forth, but the tears didn’t slow. A dam that she’d somehow managed to keep stopped up had burst inside her, and the pain poured from her.
Maren didn’t hear the front door open, or the footsteps on the stairs or even her mother’s voice until Barbara wrapped her arms around her daughter and pulled her close. “It’s okay, honey.” She stroked her hair and held her fast. “Let it out. It’s okay.”
The weight of her mother’s arms around her gave her strength and comfort in a way that would have taken her off guard if her emotions weren’t already so raw and exposed.
When finally her tears slowed, and her sobs settled into soft hiccups, Maren pulled away and took the tissue her mother handed her. “Thank you,” she muttered before blowing her nose and wiping at her face.
“Honey, I’m so sorry. I wish I could take away your pain.”
For the first time, Maren was struck by not only her mother’s tender words, but her presence. The confusion must have shown on her face because Barbara smiled softly.
“It’s true,” she said. “I know we haven’t always been close, but I’m still your mother, Maren, and I still feel your pain as if it were my own. You must understand that?”
Maren nodded. Because she did. When Rylee hurt, she felt it in her soul. It was a connection she’d never considered with her own mother.
“I wish I knew what to say to you to make it better,” Barbara said. “But I don’t think there is anything I could say.”
Maren shook her head. “There’s not. But thank you for being here,” she added and meant it. For the first time in recent memory, she was thankful for her mother’s presence. “It helps.”
“I’m glad.” Barbara reached for her hand. They sat there for a few moments without speaking, but somehow Maren pulled off her mother’s strength and after a few minutes even started to feel a little bit better.
“I don’t know how to do this, Mom.” Maren dropped her head. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”
“First, you need to heal, honey. Let yourself grieve. This is a lot and your body—”
“That’s not the only thing, Mom.” There was no point in hiding the truth about Davis and Sabrina. As humiliating as it all was, it wouldn’t be long before everyone knew about it all anyway. “The night of the accident, Davis and I were fighting.”
“Fighting? About the baby?”
“Yes,” Maren said. “But not my baby.” She swallowed hard. “Davis and Sabrina…” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. But she knew she had to. “They have been…” She swallowed again. “Sabrina is having Davis’s baby.”
She finally got the words out and looked to see her mom’s reaction, but her mom was simply shaking her head.
“You knew?”
Barbara shrugged. “I had my suspicions but I hoped it wasn’t true.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Maren. I really did hope I was wrong. I guess…what are you going to do?”
Maren chuckled and shook her head. “The first thing I’m going to do is get this room ready for Davis.”
“And then?”
More than anything, Maren wanted to be able to answer her mother’s question. But she couldn’t.
“I don’t know, Mom. I really don’t.” She started to cry again, but this time it was from sadness, not grief. “I’ve never been on my own before. I don’t know if I could do it.”
“Of course you can.” Her mother stood and started to gather up the shopping bags. “Maren, you are much stronger than you know. You can do anything. After all, you are my daughter. Why do you think I’ve always been so hard on you?”
Maren sat back, open-mouthed. There were a million ways she could sarcastically answer that question, but she settled for the truth. “I have no idea.”
“Because I’ve always known that you’re capable of so much more than you think you are. Maybe I didn’t show it the way I should have, but I love you, Maren. For too long you’ve settled for a half version of yourself.”
A half version?
“That’s not true.” She shook her head. “No. I tried so hard to be everything Rylee needed. And Davis, too. I wanted it all to be perfect. For our family to be perfect. There was nothing halfway about it.” And there hadn’t been. She’d given it her all, and she knew it. She’d done her job perfectly.
“You are an amazing mother. You always have been.”
Maren blinked. She’d never heard her mother say such a thing. At least not to her.
“But that’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Then what are you talking about?”
Her mother put the bags down and put her hands on either side of Maren’s face. “I’m talking about you, Maren. What is it that you want? It seems to me that you’re at a crossroads and as difficult as it’s going to be, it may also be a blessing. There is a lot of life out there, just waiting for you to go out and grab it.”
Barbara stepped back and Maren suddenly felt untethered.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so hard,” her mom continued. “It’s just my way. But I want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter what you decide to do.”
Maren nodded and her mind raced with possibilities.
“And Maren?”
She blinked and refocused on her mother.
“Never underestimate yourself.”
Rylee
“Dad?” Her dad had been home from the hospital for a few days, but Rylee hadn’t been able to bring herself to go visit him.
Until now.
She peeked into the room and saw him sitting up in the bed that was usually reserved for guests. He looked odd and out of place in the cheery room where her grandparents usually stayed when they came for the occasional Christmas.
“Hey, kiddo. Come in. It’s good to see you. How are you feeling? You’re looking good.”
It had already been almost two weeks since the accident and although she felt way better than she had, her ribs still bothered her sometimes and she always seemed to be a bit out of breath. “I’m good.” She nodded a little. “How about you? Your leg…”
His leg had been in a huge bulky cast in the hospital, but it didn’t look nearly as bad now.
“It’s feeling a lot better,” he said. “Not nearly as bad as your wrist, I think. It’s mostly my head that I still need to be cautious of. It’s like having a really bad concussion. I need lots of rest.”
“I’m glad you’re going to be okay,” she said truthfully. She wrapped her arms around her waist and stood awkwardly before her dad waved her to come closer. Slowly, she crossed the room.
“It’s okay, Rylee,” he said. “I’m not going to break.”
“It’s not that.” She shook her head. “I just…I don’t know what to say to you,” she blurted out. “You almost died, but I’m still so mad at you and that doesn’t feel right.”
His smile was slow and sad. “Sweetie.” He reached an arm out. “Will you come here? Please?”
She couldn’t resist. As angry as she was with her dad, he was still her dad and she loved him. He patted the bed next to him and she sat. But she didn’t say anything.
“I think we have a lot to tal
k about,” he started. “Don’t we?”
She nodded. “Do you remember yet? Before the accident, I mean?”
Her mom told her that he still couldn’t remember all the details of the accident. Ever since that first time visiting him in the hospital, Rylee had been conflicted. What if he hadn’t forgotten everything? Worse, what if he had? Because the truth was that even though she’d been drunk, she remembered exactly what she’d said and the worst part was…she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d take it back if she could.
“No.” His smile was sad. “I know we fought. I know we both said terrible things. But I don’t remember what was said. The last thing I remember is getting in the car with your mom and then waking up in the hospital.”
“You really don’t remember what I said?”
He shook his head.
“Dad, I’m so—”
“Don’t apologize.” He cut her off. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”
“But I was drunk, and I shouldn’t have—”
“Rylee.” He held up a finger to stop her. “Your drinking is a whole different conversation,” he said. “But I think your mother has already addressed it.” He grinned at the way she ducked her head because her mother had, in fact, already given her a lecture on drinking. “But alcohol or not, you said what you meant and that’s okay. I always want you to talk to me about anything, okay? No matter what.”
She nodded and bit her lip so she wouldn’t cry.
“Now, I know we still have a lot to talk about. Ask me anything. I promise I’ll answer you.”
“Anything?”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Anything at all.”
“Why?”
It was such an open-ended question that could mean a million things, but it was the only one she wanted an answer to.
“Rylee, I don’t know if—”
“You said anything.”
“I did and I’m going to be honest. I don’t have an answer for that question because I don’t know why I did what I did. Sabrina and I made some bad choices. Hurtful choices. And we didn’t fully appreciate the magnitude of what we were doing. I know that doesn’t make it any easier to understand, kiddo. But that’s the truth. It was a terrible judgment call and somehow we managed to convince ourselves that it wasn’t that bad. We were wrong. Terribly wrong and I wish we could take it all back.”
Tears slipped down his cheeks while he spoke and he didn’t try to wipe them away. Rylee had never seen her dad cry before. It was both alarming and comforting. He was hurting, too. And yes, he caused all of the hurt, but it was still there.
He reached out and slowly, she offered him her good hand. “Sweetie, I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” he said. “You and your mother both. I never meant for any of this to happen.”
She nodded because she could see that was true. After all, who would wish for their lives to implode?
“Are you and Mom going to get a divorce?”
“I love your mother very much.”
“That’s not an answer.”
She already knew the answer and not because she’d asked, but because she could feel it. She thought it would hurt more than it did.
Her dad shook his head. “That’s up to your mother.”
She nodded. It would be divorce.
They sat in silence for a few moments before Rylee said, “I’m really mad at you, Dad. But I’m also really sad. And I don’t really know what to do with that. Mom wants me to see a therapist.”
“I think that’s probably a good idea.”
She nodded. It was.
“Are you going to marry Auntie Sabrina?”
“No.” He sounded sad. “But she’s always going to be in my life. We will have a son together. Your brother.”
Rylee still didn’t know how to feel about that either. It didn’t seem fair that Auntie Sabrina got to have her baby when her mom lost hers. And Rylee still got a sibling. Everyone else got to have a baby but Mom. And that felt wrong.
“I’m going to need some time,” she said after a minute, before pulling her hand from his and standing. “I think I still need to be mad.”
He nodded and there was even a little bit of a smile. “I get that.”
Before she turned to leave, she added, “But I won’t be mad forever.”
His smile was full-fledged then. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Rylee smiled a little too. Her dad had done a terrible, awful thing, but he was still her dad and that wasn’t going to change.
“Will you come back and visit with me again?”
She looked around and nodded. “Yup. Mom didn’t even give you a TV in here. You must be pretty bored.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay. It gives me lots of time to think.”
Before she could change her mind, she went to him and carefully, because they were both still healing, she wrapped her arms around him.
“I love you, Rylee. So much.”
She let her tears drop to his shoulder as she said, “I love you, too, Dad.”
Maren
Ever since Davis had come home from the hospital, Maren had started to think of things in terms of before and after. Life before the accident and after had become vastly different. Not only in the way that it looked, but also in the way she felt inside.
Before Davis came home, Maren made her first decision for after. She hired a home nurse to handle his care. She might be okay with him staying in the house—for now—but she couldn’t bring herself to handle his care as if nothing had happened between them.
In the weeks that followed, the house became a place of healing. As Rylee and Davis recovered from their injuries, there was obvious physical recovery taking place. But more importantly, as the days passed, something inside Maren began to heal.
Her mother’s words continued to replay in her mind.
Never underestimate yourself.
There’s a lot of life out there.
Grab it.
She still wasn’t completely sure how she wanted to proceed, but she became very aware that a particularly significant date was looming and almost exactly four weeks after the accident, on a warm June Saturday morning, Davis hobbled outside on his crutches and said, “Sabrina is in labor.”
She’d tried to prepare herself for how it would feel to hear that news, but still the shot of pain in her chest took her off guard. She put her book down and turned to look at him.
“Rylee said she’d drive me to the hospital,” Davis said, almost apologetically.
“Okay.” She nodded, unsure of what else to say. The part of her that had loved both Sabrina and Davis for most of her life wanted to go with him and be with Sabrina, wanted to be there when she brought her new baby into the world. But the other, stronger part of herself, knew she couldn’t do that. “Good luck.” The words felt woefully inadequate, but they were all she could offer.
For a moment, Davis looked as if he wanted to say something more, but he dropped his head. When he looked up again, the moment was gone. “Thank you.” He lifted his head to the sun. “It’s a beautiful day.” She nodded. “Maybe…well, maybe when I get back, we can…”
“You should go.”
He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Right.”
At some point in the night, Maren heard the door open and the now familiar thumping of Davis’s crutches on the stairs as he made his way slowly and painfully upstairs. Her entire body yearned to go to him and hear about his new son. She wanted to know how Sabrina was. What the baby’s name was. How much he weighed. All of the details for the baby boy who was forever linked to her in the most painful way.
But instead of slipping from her bed, Maren rolled to her side and pulled her legs to her chest. She cried hot tears for everything she’d lost and what would no longer be. The salty tears slipped down her face and soaked the mint-green fur of the teddy bear she clutched tightly until finally, mercifully, she fell asleep.
The next morning, Maren was on her secon
d cup of coffee by the time Davis made his way down the stairs. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” She tried to keep her face neutral, but was pretty sure she was failing in that department, so she picked up her mug and drank deeply. “There’s coffee.”
“Thanks.”
They both knew he couldn’t manage the mug with his crutches, so after a moment, Maren got up with a sigh, poured him a cup, and set it on the table for him. He muttered a thank-you and they sat together in awkward silence.
Finally, Davis said, “His name is James. After my father.”
The air sucked from her lungs, but Maren forced herself not to react.
“He’s just over eight pounds.”
“Big baby,” she said neutrally.
“He is.” She didn’t want to hear it, but she couldn’t help it; the pride in Davis’s voice was evident. “Sabrina did great,” he continued. “There was only about four hours of labor and then…I’m sorry. You probably don’t want to hear this.”
But she did. It was like an exquisite form of torture, but she did want to hear it. Badly. “It’s okay,” she said. “That’s a fast labor for a first child.”
Davis nodded. “There was no time for any drugs. It happened so quickly.”
Sabrina had wanted an epidural so badly. Maren felt the slightest twinge of satisfaction at that news.
“I’m glad everything went smoothly,” she said after a moment. “Congratulations, Davis.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again. He rolled the mug between his palms, but finally pushed it away. “Look, Maren. I know…well…” His face was pained, as if every word were a struggle. It probably was. “I’m just really sorry. I know this is hard.”