by Sarah Cole
Emma begins fussing in her carrier, so I reach in and grab the carrier wrap and strap it on as Flynn lifts out Emma and fits her inside, immediately calming her fussiness. We work like a well-oiled machine together and Flynn pulls me into his side, planting a kiss first on Emma’s fuzzy head, then on my forehead. We roam, grabbing things as we go, making small talk here and there with neighbors and friends as they clog the aisles. You see, grocery shopping in a small town is like a weekly social appearance. You get in, make your small talk and smile, and get the heck out before you have to hear about Mrs. Linderman’s unfortunate podiatrist appointment and Herb Smithson’s sick cow. If you’re from a small town, I’m sure you understand.
We’re browsing through the frozen foods when I stop because freezer that is normally stocked with an assortment of flash frozen vegetables is jam packed with bags of French fries and there’s a giant handmade sign indicating a price of fifty cents a bag. Upon further inspection, there’s a description – “The Rita ordered too many fries sale!” I snort back a laugh.
Flynn follows my gaze and chuckles lightly rubbing my shoulder. “Yeah, that happens around here. Rita’s eyesight isn’t the best – never has been as far as anyone can tell, but sometimes she mixes up the numbers on the order forms, so we’ve seen it all. The Rita ordered too many pizzas sale, the toilet paper sale, the broccoli sale, and my personal favorite, The Rita ordered barely any milk sale, so go milk your own damn cow, or drive to Riverbend ‘sale’.”
I’m caught up in a fit of laughter as Flynn describes some of the other crazy things that have happened at Henry’s Market over the years, and I fall a little bit more in love with this town. As I laugh, he joins in and wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close and sandwiching a babbling Emma in between us and plants a soft kiss on my lips.
“Flynn?” the sound of a woman’s voice drags us from our sweet little moment.
“Erica? What are you doing back here?” he asks, and the sound of her name sets me on edge.
Her eyes scan me up and down as they catch on Emma who is swaddled tightly to my chest. I curl my arms protectively around the chubby baby I’m wearing. I know that she isn’t going to hurt her or anything, but is it odd I have this terrible, irrational fear that one day she will just swoop back into this little girl’s life despite all the legal documents that have been signed, and Flynn will just let her because she’s Emma’s real mom? That I’ll become second and irrelevant? Because I certainly have that fear, and I know I’m not Emma Jean’s mama, not even her step mother, but in my heart I feel like she’s mine and I am hers. I love this little baby more than life itself, and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to fight for her- on behalf of her to keep her from pain, rejection or heartbreak. I know what it’s like to have absent parents, and I’ll be damned if she ever feels the sting of that kind of rejection in her life.
“I needed to get my dad into treatment. I’m only here for a few days until he gets settled in the program.” She admits in her deep southern drawl, her eyes still fixed on where I stand with Emma.
She finally speaks to me, “I don’t think we’ve met before. Flynn, care to make an introduction?”
I look to Flynn and I see his jaw clench as he grinds his teeth. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out there are probably a million other things he’d rather do than introduce me to her.
“Erica, this is Clara, my girlfriend. Angel, this is Erica- Emma’s birth mother.” He says and I offer my hand to her. She reaches out almost cautiously, taking my hand and she searches my face.
“You look really familiar. Are you from around here?” she asks and I look at Flynn who just shakes his head a little. He’s telling me not to tell her who I am because she’s the type of person that can’t keep quiet. Over the past several weeks, we have learned to communicate with just looks and slight gestures. Partially because our familiarity with each other is increasing, and also because Emma can be such a light sleeper we have to be quiet if she’s in the room.
“I get that a lot. I had family here, but recently moved down here permanently.” I say, and it isn’t a lie. It really is the best answer I know how to give in situations like these.
“I see.” She accepts my answer, and returns her focus to Flynn.
“Didn’t seem to take you long.” She says.
“Erica, don’t start.” He exhales.
“I’m not. I’m just saying…”
“You’re trying to start shit like usual, Erica… just stop.”
She throws her hands up in defeat before taking a step towards me, and I edge away closer to Flynn’s side.
“Jeeze, relax! I just wanted to see her face since I never really got to. May I?” she asks, gesturing towards Emma.
Once again I look to Flynn who looks pissed as hell.
“You didn’t get to because you signed that right away the day she was born- before then even. So don’t try to pull that guilt trip shit you always do. That was your decision, and yours alone. You can look if Clara says it’s alright, but so help me- you come near my daughter ever again without permission and you’ll find yourself neck deep in legal suits. You know the terms we agreed upon.”
While my heart soars that he gave me that validation, I also surprisingly feel bad for Erica seeing the crestfallen look she wears on her face. I think he might be over exaggerating just a touch, and I don’t really think she meant any harm towards us. I lightly grip his tensed forearm, and he looks down at me, eyes softening a touch. I give him a look and he sighs again.
“Ok, Erica. You can look.” He says. I move to remove the shoulder strap, and like always, Flynn jumps into action, helping me out. I cradle Emma’s head since the support of the wrap is gone, and Erica inches forward so she can see Emma’s face.
“She looks like you, Flynn. A lot like you actually, but I think she may get my nose.”
“That’s what I thought too, and you’re right. I think she does have your cute nose.” I smile, and Erica smiles back. I realize in this moment that she isn’t a terrible person at all, she just wasn’t ready to be a mother and I respect her for her choices.
“Thank you.” She regards us both. “Flynn, I really am happy you found someone… really. It just caught me off guard that it was so quick. It was really nice to meet you, Clara. You guys take care.” She smiles, and I see she’s probably about five seconds away from crying as she turns on her heel and quickly walks the opposite way down the aisle, her ridiculously tall heels clacking on the tiled floor.
“That was…”
“Different.” I supply at Flynn’s loss for words.
“Yeah… You could say that.”
“It’s alright. I don’t think she had any malicious intent, Flynn. I think she was just genuinely interested in seeing what Emma looked like.”
He regards me softly, “I don’t think so either, and I feel like a shit for over reacting, but it has always been that way with her. We are like oil and water; we just don’t mix. We’ve always been like that, and that is why it would never – could never work between us.”
“I see that…. so, your girlfriend, huh?” I smile up at him.
“You caught that, huh?” he mocks me, smiling.
“I did.”
“Is that ok with you?”
“I think I can work with it.” I wink.
***
I’m feeding Emma her bottle in the living room while dinner is in the oven. Flynn had a headache after lunch, so I made him go lay down a few hours ago. I lift Emma to my shoulder to burp her when I hear Flynn angrily shouting upstairs. I tiptoe up the stairs and head towards the darkened master bedroom and toe open the cracked door as I hold Emma to my shoulder, still patting her back. I peer inside to find Flynn lying on his belly in the middle of the floor. He has both hands braced on the back of his head. He’s facing away from us so I can’t see his face, but he sounds like he’s in pain as he grinds out short sentences in a different language I can’t decipher. Then he rattles off a co
mbination of letters and numbers that sound like coordinates, but I can’t be sure.
Not knowing what to do, I run to Emma’s nursery and lay her down in her crib. Her curious eyes peer up at me, confused as to why I set her down so abruptly.
“Hang on, sweet girl. I’ve got to go help Daddy. I’ll be right back.” I say, and run back to where Flynn is still face down in the rug.
“Flynn…?” I say softly. I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t want to startle him, but I don’t want him to relive whatever he’s seeing in this fugue state.
My voice doesn’t even faze him, and I try again. “Flynn, honey! Wake up!”
Nothing.
“Flynn!” I say more firmly, but he’s still mumbling and whimpering.
I slip into the closet and grab a few rolled pairs of socks from the drawer. I know better than to get close to him when he’s like this. I’ve been on the receiving end of his episodes twice now, so I peek out from the door frame and throw the socks as hard as I can at his bare back as I yell his name.
He shoots up from the floor swinging and ready for a fight with wild eyes.
“Flynn!” I call again and his now alert eyes find mine from where I peek out from behind the door.
“Fuck! Clara, what the hell?”
“You did it again.” I say, still halfway hidden in the closet.
“Jesus!” he strides to where I stand, and takes my face in his hands searching me.
“I didn’t hurt you this time, did I?” he questions.
“No, I just couldn’t wake you up, so I hid and threw something at you.”
A smile plays at his lips as he studies the pile of socks on the floor. “Socks?”
I shrug. “Well I didn’t want to hit you too hard, or hurt you – just get your attention and wake you.”
“Where’s Emma?”
“I had to put her in her crib… I didn’t want… well, you know.” I say.
“Ok.”
I can tell he’s bothered and is starting to shut me down.
“Flynn… Please! I know you think you need time, but that isn’t normal. What happens when Emma starts walking and wanders in on you doing that and you hurt her- or when she startles you in the middle of the night?”
“I would never hurt my daughter.”
“I know not intentionally… just like I know you’d never hurt me, but you did.” I add softly, and his eyes snap to me.
“Please, Flynn. Go see someone. Get help or a support group – something. It isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
“I’m not fucking ashamed!” he roars, catching me off guard. He’s never once raised his voice towards me and I feel the emotional sting almost as if he’d physically slapped me.
I see the immediate regret on his face, and I know he didn’t mean to snap like that. I know his nerves and emotions are haywire, but I refuse to be talked to like that so without saying anything, I skirt around him and out of the room to go grab Emma.
“Angel…” he calls after me, but I just can’t right now.
13
FLYNN:
I feel like an asshole. Not only because she hit the nail on the head of why I don’t want to and can’t go see someone about this shit, but because I yelled at her when all she was trying to do is help me. I am embarrassed. I am ashamed. I’m terrified, and I’m angry as fuck that it scares me. Living it was one thing -it was my reality and I could handle it, but reliving it and not being able to control when it happens is awful. I want to know why it’s happening to me. You always hear about it, but you never think it will be you who snaps. What would people say? I’m supposed to be tough, courageous… a hero. What would they say if they knew that every time I have one of these ‘moments’ that I could hurt someone unknowingly… that I damn near strangled the woman I love?
I know she’s royally pissed at me. I saw the look on her face as she left the room, and I know Clara well enough to know that if she’s mad she just needs time to cool off because she doesn’t like confrontation. I rest my head on the cool tile of the shower and let the water wash over me, wishing it would wash away the last half hour.
After I dry off and pull on a t-shirt and athletic shorts, I head downstairs to where I hear music playing and baby squeals. I hear Clara and Emma in the kitchen and it just does something to me knowing that everything I want and need in life is just on the other side of the wall. I ease around the corner and lean against the door frame watching Clara dance around the kitchen with Emma strapped to her chest, squealing with delight. She’s singing to her – albeit horribly, but the dancing? The dancing is magical. She smiles at Emma with such a maternal tenderness as she gracefully maneuvers around the kitchen island on her toes. It’s almost as if she’s floating as she performs a creative mix of ballet and more contemporary moves.
She’s absolutely breathtaking, and I can’t peel my eyes from her. She dips her head and shower’s my daughter with kisses, and I swear it becomes crystal clear to me. This woman is it. I knew I loved her before, and the idea of making her mine and being with her indefinitely was always at the forefront on my mind. But watching her love my daughter the way she does, and seeing her in my house and bed and kitchen seals the deal for me. Clara is mine…she’s my one.
CLARA:
I feel a hand rest on my shoulder, and I scream as I nearly jump out of my skin. After everything that has happened, my mind immediately goes to him, the crazy bastard that stalks me, tried to choke me in a parking lot, and tried to burn me alive inside my own house.
“I’m sorry, angel.” Flynn says, and he pulls Emma and me to him as I try to steady my heart rate.
“Sorry, I just didn’t hear you sneak up on us.” I say, grabbing the stereo remote from the island and lowering the volume a touch.
“You’re an amazing dancer.”
“Thanks. I miss it. Well, not the production and the sequins, and makeup and lights… but dancing. The freedom and the expression of it. It was my favorite thing to do once upon a time.”
“What happened?” he asks.
“Just like everything else, my father.”
When he searches my face, I decide to elaborate.
“Dancing was everything to me. Besides reading and writing, dancing was my outlet to deal with the crazy ups and downs that was my life. My parents’ relationship was never very stable, my mom was an alcoholic, and she also struggled with mental illness off and on. My dad loved my mom, deeply at one point I think, but it didn’t stop him from cheating. Let’s just say that my life wasn’t as shiny and perfect as it appeared to be from the outside. So, just like my dad did with everything, he capitalized and marketed any and all of our talents.” I say. I’ve never really told anyone all of that before. Emily and Landon know bits and pieces of my family life based on comments I may have made, but I never made it a point to really share with anyone. They didn’t need to know, and I would rather spend my time talking about other things-interesting and happy things rather than the reality I tried to desperately avoid.
“I’m sorry, Clara.” He says softly.
“It’s not your fault. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“I’m just sorry that something you love was turned into something you hate, but let’s make new, better memories.” He says, and I look at him questioningly.
“Dance with me, angel. Don’t think about it… just dance.” Flynn says as he wraps his strong arms around my waist and sways to the music that still flows through the kitchen speakers.
I sigh, melting into him just a bit more, careful not to squish the sweet little girl I still have strapped to me, as I lay my cheek against his soft cotton t-shirt. I breathe in his clean, manly scent, and I feel safe. Every second that I’m wrapped in his hold, I slip a little bit further and I know there isn’t any bouncing back from this. I love this man, flaws and all, and I want this life with him, and only him by my side.
“I’m sorry about earlier, baby. I never meant to snap at you like that. I was just emotiona
l, and it’s absolutely no excuse, but I never meant to speak to you like that. I never want to speak to you like that. I love you, Clara.” He says, and I know he’s sorry. I knew it the moment he took that tone with me.
“I know, Flynn. I love you too, and I wish I could say that it’s ok, but it isn’t. Do I forgive you? Of course, but I’m not going to dance around the issue and pretend it doesn’t exist. You need help.” I say.
I decide to let my words sink in rather than push any further right now. I’ve come to learn that Flynn’s mental state regarding the subject is fragile at best. Like a cold rubber band. Brittle and if stretched too far it snaps and crumbles, leaving you with only a sting and pieces of a whole.
He doesn’t say anything to counter this time, but just continues to look me in the eyes and I see it. I see the war – the war that he’s still fighting against himself every day and my heart breaks for him. I will do anything and everything I can, but like they always say. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force it to drink.
***
It has certainly been a week for sure. I talked to my brother, Logan on the phone. He sounded pretty much the same, but was really just checking in on me. He knows where I am now, and although he can be self-centered, I know he wouldn’t tell anyone where I am, not even Meredith, our younger sister. She has a big mouth. Then, a few days ago, I had a video chat call with Emily and Landon, and they have a five-day break in filming before the In Lights finale, so they are going to come visit for a couple days. I talked to Flynn about it and he was all for it. They made reservations at the local bed and breakfast so they don’t impose, and I think that might be for the better considering Flynn and his PTSD symptoms. I finally broke down and told them about everything that has been happening recently, not about Flynn, but about my house and all of the notes. To say that they were shocked would be an understatement. I had mentioned my ‘stalker’ before, but I don’t think they realized the seriousness until I explained what happened here in Stockbridge.