Unwanted

by Leigh Lennon

  31

  Tyler

  Waking up on Christmas Day, I forget we won’t be playing dirty Santa or naughty hide and seek, and the Christmas lingerie I buy her each year will not be seen on my wife’s gorgeous body, not that it ever stayed there long anyway. All the funny gag gifts we put in each other's stockings will go without this year. The gifts we swore we would not buy each other, but always did, would go unexchanged, too. Christmas was always so special because Emma made it special. Instead, it is Aspen’s first Christmas, and I need to make it special for her. Even though she won’t remember it, I will.

  Before I have a chance to think any further of what I’m missing today, Aspen wakes up, cooing as if she knew Christmas came just for her.

  Of course, as the first-time dad I am, I have gone a little overboard for my baby, to say the least. Next year, though, I hope to give her a better present, one that will consist of her mom.

  After I help Aspen open all her presents, consisting of more dolls than she could ever play with, I get both of us dressed in our Sunday best and drive the short ten-minute trip to Nick and Justine’s. They tried to talk us into sleeping over at their house last night with all the Buchannans. Even Brody’s parents were up for Lorel’s first Christmas, but I wanted some downtime with my girl. However, the second I walk in, I find the clutter and chaos of Christmas morning. Pink has exploded, and that is only for Lorel. I’m sure they will spoil Aspen beyond recognition. Justine takes Aspen when she reaches for her, and then I hear my phone ring. I’m sure my face could have lit up a night sky when I see who is calling.

  “Justine, do you have her for now?” I ask although I know the answer to that.

  “Yes, Ty, I have a feeling she won’t let her mimi put her down. Now answer that phone since, by the look on your face, it is Emma. I think I can keep one little girl entertained, not that I have any experience with that at all,” she says a bit sassy, and I’m not sure why I have come to expect anything else from my mother-in-law.

  Stepping outside and away from all the noise, I answer, “Ems?”

  “Merry Christmas, Ty. I was afraid you wouldn’t answer.”

  She thinks I’m mad at her about her decision to spend the holidays apart, but I’m sad. “No, honey, I just miss you like fucking crazy, babe. I missed our fun Christmas rituals. Especially the naughty hide and seek.”

  With her sexy little chuckle, she starts, “I’m not sure why we call it hide and seek. I’m always in the same place.”

  “Oh, it is the chase, Ems, that makes it even sexier. Seeing you wrapped in only that bow,” I say. “Fuck, I miss you. But I have tickets booked for the second week of January, so in only two weeks, you will be in my arms again.”

  She’s silent, and I’m worried I said something to make her hang up. “Ems?” I question.

  “Yeah, Ty, I’m here. I just miss you. I wish I could have given you what you wanted this Christmas,” she adds.

  “Oh, honey, all I want is for you to get better. Next year, you will be home, and we will be a family.” She doesn’t say anything to that, and I push a little more. “You need to want that, though, Ems. If you want it, then you will make it happen. I know it.”

  “I hope so.” I don’t like the tone of her voice, but I let it go.

  “I’ll be the one to believe for the two of us,” I say, having enough faith for both Emma and me.

  32

  Justine

  When the New Year rolls around, Emma reaches out to us, wanting us to come for a long weekend, opposite of when Ty flies down to see her. I understand the need for her own time with her husband as they try to mend what has torn them apart.

  Packing his suitcase Thursday night for an early morning flight the next day, Nick is beside himself with both fear and hope. Being that he moved to Spokane to live close to his only daughter, this is by far the longest they have been apart, but we took it as a good sign that Emma invited us down to see her.

  Emma’s biggest fear in regard to Nick is letting him down. I have watched Nick in the past couple of months as he works through his own issues. He feels guilty about letting Emma get this bad. With two type A personalities that give rise to perfection as the standard, as Emma and Nick are, it’s no surprise they believe they’ve let the other down.

  The second we arrive at the hippy-dippy retreat, as Nick still coins it even after his acceptance of Emma’s decision, we see her right away, waiting for us at the administration offices.

  The second Nick emerges from the car, Emma is in his arms, and when he breaks the embrace long enough for me to hug my girl, I see the old Nick. He is back, all because his daughter is on the road to recovery.

  33

  Emma

  After two months of Tyler visiting me for both January and February, I’m not surprised that the subject of visiting home is something that both Grace and Ty want to discuss at his February visit.

  “Emma, you are getting stronger every day you are here. It is time you use the coping strategies I have equipped you with to go home and face some of those fears.” What she means is face the little almost ten-month-old who is the spitting image of me, and it frightens me more than the boogeyman did when I was younger.

  “The thought of getting on the plane leads me to a panic attack.”

  “Then I’ll fly down here and get you, Ems. We can do it together.” Ty is holding on to this dream that I will come back to him.

  “No, no. I can’t do it.” I can’t explain why I stood immediately and fled; some of it has to do with the pressure I felt from them both. Grace told me she would push me at times, and this is certainly one of them. However, I can’t articulate how much this little baby I created scares me. If I tried any further to put it into words, I would sound like a monster. Fuck, I’m a monster.

  Returning to my room, I lock my door behind me because I can’t look into my husband’s eyes after I’ve failed him again. When the door handle jiggles a little, I’m sure I’m going to hear Tyler’s voice behind the piece of wood separating us, but it isn’t his. “Emma, why the hell is the door locked?” Jolie asks annoyed.

  “Are you by yourself?” I ask from behind the door, ready to let her in quickly.

  “Yes, but are we in fucking middle school here? Let me in.” Since Jolie and I have been living together, she has started swearing a lot more. I snicker, thinking to myself, I’m a good influence, after all.

  When I open the door, I pull her in, and she’s annoyed and looks tired, very tired. “What the fuck, Emma?”

  “Sorry. I just bolted from Grace and my husband, and I don’t want to see him.”

  When she walks in, I notice she’s a little slower moving than she normally is, even for being eight months pregnant. “You mean, you ran from your fucking hunk of a husband?”

  “He wants me to come home for a week, and I just can’t.”

  Jolie attempts to sit down and winces but continues, “Your hunky gorgeous as fuck husband wants you to come home for a week, and you ran from him? Am I missing something?”

  “Nope, that’s pretty much it,” I say, a little annoyed. “I can’t get past this fear that I’m going to screw the baby up somehow.”

  She attempts to stand, and after a little effort, she stops and doesn’t try again. “I want to stand right now and tell you off, but I can’t, so I’ll just do it from the comfort of my bed. I have no idea what it is like to have a baby. I mean, I soon will, and childbirth scares me, but I’m going to do it because this baby deserves it. But I do know something about trauma. I was raped. I’m going to raise a baby that was not conceived in love but in hate, but I choose to love her because that is what moms do. So you have had a hard time, I feel for you, but get your head out of your ass and go find your hunkier than fuck husband, the one I would fuck if I could and if he wasn’t already in love with you, and tell him you will try.”

  Now, I’m mad. “You had some jacked-up shit happen, yes, but don’t belittle my trauma by your circumstances.”
/>   “Perspective,” she starts, and then she screams when I notice her pants are entirely wet.

  Now, trying to approach another subject with her since it is obvious her water has broken, I only laugh. “It looks like you are going to be a mother very soon.”

  When we arrive at the hospital, Jolie is in so much pain I worry something is wrong. She’s crying. “I’m sorry, Emma. I had no right to say those words. Please, please, forgive me.”

  Part of her is right, and I haven’t had a chance to dissect what to do with some of the truths that a seventeen-year-old threw in my face. “No, it is fine, honey. Part of what you said was right, but for now, let’s worry about your baby girl and you. Okay? This is all about you and your girl.”

  When the nurse comes to get her, she asks, “Are you her birthing coach?”

  By the pleading look on Jolie’s face, I answer, “Yes, I am.”

  “Okay, you all can come back.” I look back at Grace who is still upset over letting Tyler leave without as much as a goodbye, and I follow Jolie to help her through the birth of her first child.

  Watching Jolie effortlessly nurse her baby, I’m in awe. Walking over to her, after she birthed the baby without pain relief, I know she’s going to make a wonderful mother.

  “She’s perfect, Jolie. Absolutely perfect,” I say.

  “Reagan, her name is Reagan Christine,” she says.

  “Aww, you used one of my names.”

  “The second you said Reagan, I knew that would be her name.”

  Sitting on the bed next to her, I say, “Listen, you were right about many things you said to me.”

  Searching my eyes, she tears up. “I can’t compare your scars to mine. That is not fair.”

  “But you said some simple truths. I haven’t had a chance to call Ty yet, but I’m going to make plans for March.”

  Holding my hand, she only says, “I have been a mom all of an hour, but, Emma, I want this for you. I really do.”

  I do, too, I think to myself. I do, too.

  34

  Tyler

  I barely get in the house with a fussy little girl when my phone rings from an Albuquerque area code. Without thought, I pick it up, worried something has happened to Emma.

  “Ty?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I say with a clipped tone.

  “I was going to try to stop you before you left for the airport, but my roommate went into labor and then it got crazy.”

  I’m not sure what to say. I never understood them putting Ems with a pregnant teen, but Grace assured me it was to help her relate to when she was pregnant since her pregnancy up to the birth is a fond memory for Emma. I finally ask, “Is she okay?”

  “Yes, her and the baby are fine. A little girl, Reagan,” she adds.

  “Like we had on our short list.” I remember instantly. It was my favorite out of all the gender-neutral names we had picked at first.

  “Yes, exactly like the name we favored during the first IVF treatment.” Pausing, I don’t say a word and wait for her to speak. “I can’t say it doesn’t scare the fucking shit out of me, but I want to make arrangements to see both of you.”

  I’m not sure if I should be excited because Emma and her concessions may make or break this trip. “Okay, what are they?” I ask.

  “Would you be willing to come to New Mexico? I’m not ready for everything to be at home quite yet.”

  “Of course, we can fly down to New Mexico.” She wants to see Aspen. I keep telling myself this is a great start to getting my family back under one roof. Then I ask, “What is the next thing?”

  “I’m not sure I can stay in the hotel with you, but I’ll try.”

  “We will go slowly, Ems, okay? Agreeing to see Aspen is a big step for you.” I’m still holding Aspen as she doesn’t let me out of her sight after being gone for the past four days.

  “Okay. Thanks, Ty.”

  “Ems, you know I love you, right?”

  “Of course, I do. You would have to, to put up with me,” she adds.

  I think of something I haven’t said to her in a while. “Ems, you know how I know we will get through this?”

  She laughs on the other end, and it is then she understands what I want from her. “Because I’m the toughest and hottest badass you know.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “That is right, baby.” I change my tone when I say, “I’ll move heaven and earth for you, Ems.”

  “I know you will.” Well, that is a start, I think. At least she understands this.

  35

  Emma

  My leg won’t stop its nervous twitch. I have been sitting in Grace’s fucking office for ten minutes, and I need her. I need Grace’s assurances that I’m not going to mess this up. Opening the door behind me, she scoots in. This time is not my normal therapy session, but I needed to see her before Aspen and Tyler arrive. “Sorry, Emma, for being late. Jolie needed some assistance with Reagan, and I’m the only one she trusts besides you. However, she understands you are freaking out ten days to Friday and didn’t want to burden you.”

  The truth is I have missed Jolie since she moved to the family wing of the retreat. I visit her several times a day, normally holding Reagan while she takes a catnap here and there. “Maybe being around Reagan and Jolie will help me to forget how utterly scared I am.” Looking at my watch, I see they will arrive here in less than an hour.

  “So tell me, Emma, what can I do to help you prepare for this visit?”

  “Tonight, they are just coming for dinner and will leave after supper. Tomorrow, Anders will drive me into town where I’ll spend the afternoon with them, and then you are picking me up around four.”

  Nodding, she acknowledges this part of the plan. “Then Sunday, he’s coming to get me if all goes well, and we will do some sightseeing. He and the baby will leave the next day.”

  “Okay, I think it’s good you are taking it slow.”

  My eyes instantly fill with tears. “You know, that is not how I see it, Grace. It seems so much at one time.”

  “I know, Emma. Let’s go over some of your techniques. First, the ones you have been practicing,” she reminds me as if I can fucking forget. “Remember what I have told you. It is okay to be prepared for the triggers that bring on the trauma,” she states.

  “Yes, the big trigger is in the form of a baby I’m supposed to love.”

  I take her hand, and as if she’s ready to reprimand me, she begins, “Aspen is not the trigger. Sure, her birth is, but stating Aspen is the trigger is like saying all Germans are Nazi followers.” She has used this analogy so many times with me that I want to take her words and dissect them to prove her wrong. I don’t want to blame Aspen, and I try to tell myself that every day, but my heart is not getting the message.

  “I understand seeing your daughter does bring up the unpleasant memories, but she’s not merely the one event you keep remembering. She’s the product of your love for Tyler.” Pausing, she narrows her gaze on my eyes. “Okay, what are some internal triggers? The things that live inside you?”

  We partake in this exercise at least once a week. I start because I can rattle them off like the back of my hand. “It includes the thoughts, all my memories, emotions, and bodily sensations, including how I felt useless and a failure with my inability to bond with my baby.”

  “Okay, I know you know this, Emma. But go further, tell me one thing.”

  There are so many memories to remember, and as Grace has told me on many occasions, if I can process the triggers in my brain, then I can prepare my body for when a panic attack is brought on by my triggers. I’m trying to think of a new one, a situation we have not discussed. I can’t go too deep right now, and I know she’s pushing me for a reason. “Mom and Dad thought I was asleep in my room after I refused to hold Aspen. Ty took her back to the nursery, and the on-call nurse came in and told my parents she’d never seen anyone pull through so much blood loss. Mom and Dad were beside themselves, and of course, I remember the doctor say
ing they were losing me, but to hear it in that way. I only now remembered that memory, as though I’d pushed it so far down, I never wanted to remember it.”

  She’s nodding her head, and I know it’s the “we’re making progress” look she seems to get on her face when I make some headway. “I think these memories will continue to surface. The brain is funny; it is as if your brain is giving you pieces of that day when you are ready to go on to the next level.”

  “But I’m marked, as though leaving my baby is the worst thing a mom can do.”

  “Sure, it’s a double standard, but then again, we have to work through what should and shouldn’t concern you. Sure, you left, and you’ve been honest about how you feel. With you, I’m assuming you can’t be any other way. But, Emma, you are here working on this, and I know you want to find a way back to your girl. I think when you first got here, you understood it was the only way you could repair your marriage, but I see you with Jolie and Reagan. You love them both, and one reason is because you don’t have the trauma or the responsibility you have with Aspen. I think once that fear subsides, the gates of love will be opened to Aspen, and nothing, and I mean nothing, will keep you from her.”

  Her words fill me with hope, and I smile at the idea that I’ll be the mother I remember I wanted to be. In the past four months, I’ve opened to the idea of what my life was like as a pregnant soon-to-be mom, and I can almost visualize myself doing those things for Aspen as Jolie does for Reagan.