by Alyvia Paige
“Han, baby, you have to eat. I’m not letting you destroy yourself and what we are building again,” he says gently rubbing my thigh. I peer up at him through barely lifted lids as he sets the tray on the nightstand beside me, and then sits on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair off my face. His tender touch and soft sigh evokes a whimper from the back of my throat. “I know, but it’s not a lot to ask, and I cancelled your plans with Tracie and Brielle today, making sure they knew you just weren’t up to it.” He says quietly leaning down kissing my cheek.
“Thank you,” I mouth and close my eyes again, but he doesn’t leave. He sits beside me caressing my back and shoulders until I open my eyes back up. “I’m not hungry,” I exhale, opening my eyes finally meeting his watching me intently.
“Try.”
I sit up slowly, my head throbbing more than it was laying down, and I rub my temples just as he holds out his hand containing three ibuprofen. I take them quickly, swallowing them as he hands me the cup of hot tea. Once the tablets are washed down, he exchanges my cup for the bowl of soup. I stare at it for a while, before he takes the spoon as if he is about to feed me with an arched brow. I’m not a morning person, I am not helpless and beyond irritated that he is forcing me to function when I am not ready, jerking the spoon from his hand, I scowl and mutter angrily “just go away!”
I finally give in knowing he will sit there until I at least attempt to eat, he kisses my forehead before softly chuckling. “I love you, Hannah Grace, I’m pleased to see you are still not a morning person, even if it is almost noon.”
“Leave.”
“I’m not leaving you, I’ll give you a little space. Finish up. We have some stuff to talk about. Please baby, for me.” He kisses my aching head once more before setting my cellphone next to me on the nightstand and walks out of the bedroom.
Sitting in the living room flipping through the channels, avoiding paperwork, my mind is running wild with all the things Hannah must be feeling, thinking, and experiencing. I don’t regret taking her to the memorial grounds though, it’s time she faced her loss, our loss, head on. She did well, considering, I think at least; she didn’t run away, granted she didn’t have anywhere to go. Sighing loudly, I begin to hear the pings of what resemble the text tone to her cell, assuming she is finally getting up and around, I finish grading the stack of papers in front of me and tidy up the living room.
Uncertain of the time I hear the shower turn on, I check my cell for the time, reading seven pm, and see a missed text.
Braydon – You around? Need to talk
Instant fury rages through me just seeing his name then reading his text knowing he has caught wind of Hannah being home, I do not have the time nor the patience to deal with this self-righteous motherfucker.
Me – I warned you once. FUCK OFF
Braydon – suit yourself
What the fuck does that mean… “Suit yourself”? I hear the shower shut off a few minutes later and make my way to the kitchen to make some dinner. I’m hungry and Hannah must be famished. After sautéing some chicken breast and building a spinach salad mix, I set the table just as she makes her way down the hall. Her hair pulled back and wearing jeans and a fitted t-shirt, she wraps her arms around herself and looks at me cautiously.
“What’s wrong, Han?”
“We need to talk, babe, but I don’t want you mad. Okay?” She carefully chooses her words as she walks towards me.
“Okay,” I draw out the word and take her into my arms holding her close, “you can say anything you know that.”
“I talked to Braydon. We all need to talk. He’s coming over.” She rushes out the words enunciating every word and sentence clearly.
I release her immediately but don’t pull away, my anger over taking my understanding. Once I returned home from Jefferson City, after I beat the hell out of Braydon’s face, I explained everything that happened, and granted she explained to me she knew who he was when we came to Florida, it didn’t lessen the severity of the situation in my eyes.
“He is not welcome in this house.” I say with finality.
“Then he will pick me up, and we will go talk.” She responds unreadable, but her eyes are different, they seem tired, pleading for me to give just one more time. I am fucking tired of giving.
“NO. You will not go with him. Are you fucking kidding me right now?” my voice continues to rise, as she stands in front of me, neither of us willing to stand down. “HE is responsible for ruining a part of YOU, US, ME! NO HANNAH GRACE!” I shout as my eyes begin to wet. “I lost everything and am just now getting it back, the fuck will I let that go without a fight.”
“Then I suppose you let him in when he gets here, and set him a plate for dinner. WE all need to talk. Do NOT fight me on this Carter Grayson Jacobs; you will not like the outcome.” Her tone is more of an order than request and she walks away into the back bedroom slamming the door.
“Fuck this,” I growl, grab my keys and walk out the front door. All I wanted to do was talk about last night, talk about the baby we made and lost… the babies. FUCK!
In my truck, I wait a few moments before starting it up, then I back out of the parking spot, and lay on the gas. About ten minutes down CR24 I see my cell light up, unable to hear the sound over the Shinedown playlist filtering through the cab of the truck, I pause the music and listen the voicemail. I slow the truck as I hear her soft voice and pull to the side of the road to focus frees of distraction.
“Carter, please come back home, we just need to talk baby. I shouldn’t have been so, so… abrasive? But you have to understand what I am going through, too. We can’t start the next chapter of our lives if we continue to reread the last one. That’s what we are doing Carter, sweeping it under the rug, avoiding all this is just holding on to the past. I need to move past it, you need to move past it... we need to move past it. Come home, let’s just face this head on, together. Please. I love you. He’s here. Braydon is here, be the man I know you are and come home. I’m going to let him in now, please Carter.”
Her voice cracks as she ends the message, she sounded calm, resolved, but at the end, she cracked. I know she needs me, I need her, but this is all so jacked up. What in the fuck does she need from him, I guess I’ll never fucking know if I don’t ask. Cranking the wheel to the left, I release the brake and press the gas, leaving ruts and my trail along the country road until the mud is free from my tires as I head back to the house, just as she asked. Always fucking bending. I’m still furious, hurt, and far beyond comfortable with this situation. If this is what she needs to heal, then so fucking be it, but I just need it to be over.
Pulling into my drive a while later, my blood already pumping, enraged in anticipation of what is to come. I slam the door to my truck and enter through the garage door, finding Hannah sitting across from Braydon, tears streaming down her face. Shutting the door, I throw my keys onto the kitchen counter, grab a Corona and stand against the island facing her, I see Braydon look at me through my peripheral vision but I refuse to acknowledge him. Taking a pull from the bottle, I raise my brow to Hannah, who is now looking at me hesitantly.
“I’m back.”
I end my rambling on Carter’s voicemail trying to reason with a machine for him to come back, to deal with this with me, for me. I need finality. If I have learned anything through counseling, it is that you must forgive to move on. You will never forget, but fuck if I don’t try. Braydon knocks again, so I hurry to answer the door before he takes off too.
“Hey, come in. Carter took off, but I hope he will be back,” I sigh and open the door for him to come in. The poor guy looks beyond hesitant. I guess I would be too if someone pummeled my ass not that long ago.
“Thanks, Hannah. Listen, I’m sorry, are you sure you want to do this? I know Carter told me to stay away.” He wipes a hand over his face and looks at me apprehensively before walking in the door. Closing it behind him, I then lead him to the kitchen area.
“Yep, I need to deal
with this, so does Carter, even if he is too much of a stubborn ass to understand right now.”
“Okay, well I appreciate you wanting to talk to me. I hope me just telling you what I can will give you whatever it is that you need,” he offers and smiles nervously.
“I’m sure this is going to suck ass, Bray, but it’s fine. It will be fine. Please, sit.”
After taking our seats, we talk in general of what I remember and of Carter taking me to see the memorial stone. Braydon sat shock still in his chair, which surprised me.
“Braydon, you seem a little shocked, or off kilter, do you want a drink?” I ask watching his face continue to whiten.
“Hannah, why do y’all have a memorial stone? I don’t mean to pry, but I think I am missing something?” his face is full of questions.
“Braydon, when your truck struck mine, I was carrying Carter’s baby. Due to the injuries and impact of the accident, I miscarried. I lost our baby.” Unwelcome tears begin to fall from my eyes and his face fell to my words.
“Hannah, I never knew, didn’t know,” he gasps. “I – I swear.”
Carter walks in, assesses me, grabs a beer and stands against the island in the kitchen. I’m uncertain of how this is going to go, but from what I just unloaded, I’m going to go out on a limb and say, this is so much more fucked up than I bargained for. He looks at me and flatly says, “I’m back.” Then takes another pull from his beer.
“Hey babe, I was just catching Braydon up on my trip home, the visit out to the memorial grounds.” I pause at Carter’s reaction, wiping my tears and leveling my breath. I know the miscarriage is something we have always kept extremely private, but for fuck’s sake, this is the guy who kind of helped create the reason to keep it quiet. “Anyway, long story short,” I sniff then wipe my eyes again, “Braydon, was never informed of the baby we lost, clearly HIPPA and privacy, but I just assumed. Anyhow, I’ve talked enough, I wanted us all to talk, it’s time we all get it out, I need to move forward, I can’t keep living yesterday over and over again, and until I can accept what happened. That is all I am going to do. So, thank you both for doing this. Braydon, you are up.” I say as quickly as possible afraid to lose the nerve and run.
“Just let me get this out please. Then I will go. Carter, I know you don’t want me here, and Hannah I know telling me about this is hard enough. I am not making excuses, I am just telling my part. I hope that I can mend the friendship I made with you, Carter. I really do.” Braydon takes a deep breath looks from Carter to me, releases the breath, and starts talking, “I was a kid. No, I was an immature, irresponsible 21-year-old. I had no sense of direction, accountability. I honestly did whatever the fuck I wanted and no one could stop me, and I knew that. I know back then I acted and behaved as an entitled prick. My life was in turmoil and I understand that doesn’t justify my behavior. It didn’t then and it sure as hell doesn’t now. My mom had just died, days after finding out that her supposedly perfect husband was anything but. I had also just found out that I had a brother, well half-brother amongst many other things. I wanted to forget everything, so I did. We buried my mom on a Friday and I drank from the time we left the cemetery until about an hour before I struck your car Monday morning.” He finally takes a break and looks away from my eyes to Carter then back at me, tears pooling, but he closes them tight and continues.
“I don’t remember hitting your car Hannah; I don’t remember anything that day. I didn’t ask for anyone to hide what happened. I need you both to know that. I was willing to accept full responsibility once I was informed of what had happened a few days later, upon sobering up. I guess, between my father being the DA and your dad being, well, one of the best defense attorney’s in the state, they kind of made it all go away for my dad’s discretion and for your privacy, or that’s what I was told.” He sighs and Carter finally sits down. I, however, need to move. I need a break, I go for the liquor cabinet I found while Carter took off. Carter leans in and pulls out a shot glass and pours me a shot then takes his seat back at the table, yet to say a single word, tension rolling off him in undeniable waves.
“Whoa, wow…” I stammer after downing the strong shot of liquor which is now burning my insides. I keep taking breaths, albeit short, but at least I am breathing. Maybe I wasn’t ready for truth talk. I make my way back to the table and sit down. Carter grabs hold of my hand and interlaces our fingers, he may be angry with me, but he’s always there.
“So, you didn’t know then, but you eventually did. YET you chose to befriend me with what objective? You went to fucking Florida and stayed in her house, fucked our friend.” Carter questions in a clear concise tone.
“I didn’t think I was gaining anything but a friend, fucker. How the fuck was I to know or not know if you knew? And why the fuck would I bring up old shit? As far as Florida goes, most people talk about who accompanies them on trips. That is all on you dude. Hannah knew me at that restaurant.” Braydon breaks, quirking a brow at me to which I nod in agreement. I did know and recognize him; I also kept our conversations to a minimum until I accepted the fact that they were friends. I look between him and Carter and see the hint of smirk on his face as he continues. “Also, leave Brielle out of it, she has no fucking part in this conversation and watch your fucking mouth, she deserves that respect, friend.”
“Fair enough on most of that shit, but you best think fucking twice on how you talk to me on friendships, motherfucker,” Carter says before taking the last pull from his Corona.
“Fair enough,” Braydon says as he squares his shoulders and responds flatly.
“What the fuck, we are getting nowhere,” I say, beyond frustrated. “Please at least accept that this is now behind us, we have to find a way to move forward without fucking punching each other, or thinking about killing each other. I cannot take the goddamn stress and I am tired of being the source of everyone’s hurt, anger, and aggression.”
“Fine.” They say in unison and Carter stands abruptly and stalks out of the kitchen and into the bedroom, shutting the door.
“Thank you for coming and talking to me Bray. I really do appreciate it. Listen, is it okay if I message you sometime and we keep in touch?” I am really hoping he says yes. I need to continue to heal, and I think he is a key to that. After I ask, we both stand and head towards the front door without talking.
“Yeah, of course. Anytime Han.”
It was still dark when my heavy lids flickered open; Carter was still sleeping soundly beside me. Quietly finding my yoga pants, a hoodie, and socks, I change donning my sneakers and slip out the front door for a run. Thankfully, the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon by the time I made it around the lake of the apartment complex, as I was still unfamiliar with my exact layout of the grounds. I pick up my pace, taking long purposeful strides, and my feet directing the path. I finally feel free - free from stress, free from guilt, free from hurt.
With the sun now fully visible, I turn back slowing my pace to a steady jog, stopping at the memorial benches just outside the back of the Carter’s place. Alternating between legs propped up and stretching, filling my lungs with the crisp, cool air, I finally start to take in the past 24 hours. Taking another deep breath, I head into the house, grab my cell and spare set of keys from the countertop, and lock the door on my way back out.
Me – Baby I have to go back. I love you, I have always loved you!
Hoisting myself into the truck, I navigate my way to the Browning Memorial and follow the landmarks from the first visit. Once I notice the small plot of faded blue and pink mums, I stop the truck, and kneel before the bare space, just before the stone, making myself comfortable.
Hey there precious, I’m your mommy. I wish you were here with me in my arms, getting ready to go to grandma and grandpa’s to have Thanksgiving dinner with daddy and auntie Brielle. You’d be almost three now. Mommy’s big boy or maybe my little princess, either way, I know you’d be perfect with your temper tantrums and sassy attitude, your dirty blonde hair
and dimples getting you anything you want.
Mommy thinks of holding you every single moment of every single day, and I know your daddy does too, he beats himself up a lot that he wasn’t able to protect mommy, that he wasn’t able to protect you from being hurt. It wasn’t your daddy’s fault, just like it wasn’t Braydon’s fault. Braydon. That’s the man who hit mommy’s car causing me to miscarry you. He made a mistake that day, sometimes mistakes happen and even though it took you away from me, I know it was an accident.
How is your little brother or sister; are you playing nicely? Mommy’s body just can’t seem to keep you babies safe, huh? Maybe someday... but not to replace you, because you, my precious babies, are irreplaceable, but to share the love we have to give to another that wasn’t taken from us. Daddy patiently waited for mommy to get her shit together, and I am finally figuring it all out.
But now, I think daddy needs some time, some time to adjust and know mommy can handle it all you know – without running. Cause lil Jacobs’ if there is anything I have ever been more certain of, it is of my love for your daddy. I’m done running away.
Waking up alone in the bed after last night is not what I expected, but between the very intense conversations of Braydon’s visit, her summary of thoughts, hopes, and feelings of our future, and a little stress reduction of our own, I knew she would need to clear her head. Rolling out of the bed, I look out the back window and see her stretching her long legs on the bench. Pushing off the window ledge, I make my way into the bathroom, turning the nozzle to a scarcely bearable temperature of blistering, I step in washing the stresses and frustration I have kept pent up for so long away.