by Amy Daws
“No, I mean it. This baby has to have it good from us. We can’t mess this up.”
He sets me down pushing my bangs away from my eyes. “Why would we mess it up?”
I shake my head. “You don’t know, Theo. I’ve not told you because I’ve spent the last five years running from it. Similar to how you didn’t want to talk about Marisa. But I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything and be completely honest so we don’t mess this up.” I finish clutching my hands to my stomach. The gesture feels strange but natural somehow.
“I had been living in London less than a year. It was in the very recent wake of me telling my parents I was dropping out of college and moving to London. They were decidedly upset and argued with me over the phone, but there was little they could do. I had made up my mind.
I called one night to try to, at the very least, mend some fences with my mother. Tom had just started his first year at Iowa and I wondered how my mother was doing home alone with my father.”
I swallow hard and Theo senses the anxiety growing in my shoulders so he pulls me down over to the bed. We both sit on the edge and he’s softly rubbing my back but I can barely feel it as my mind wanders back to my past.
“Growing up, my father was horrid. He’d make cutting remarks about my clothes, my friends, my dreams—anything he could crumble with his bare hands…he did. The worst of it was, he put on a wonderful show in front of people in town. As the only local dairy farm, the Lincoln name was well known. So I just swallowed and bit my tongue every time we were in public together and he acted like the loving father he never was.
I think that was why I always joked around and did wild things with Finley. It was my escape. My release. When I was away from my dad, I was free to be myself: Crazy Leslie. And laughing and joking around was so much easier than crying. Despite all of my hatred I had toward my father, I still loved my mom. And I was feeling tons of guilt for leaving her behind with him.
When she answered the phone, I had trouble understanding her. She sounded like she had gauze in her mouth. I pressed her about it and she said she just had a toothache. I knew something was seriously wrong. I could feel it.
I was able to catch a flight home two days later. When I came in the front door and locked eyes on her, I nearly fell over from shock. My mom was sitting at the kitchen table, applying ointment to the side of her completely swollen-shut eye. Her face was littered with small cuts and bruises yellowed from age. I hardly recognized her.”
***
“Mom,” I say, my voice catching in my throat.
“Leslie! Why are you home?” she asks, looking nervously behind me.
“Mom!” I cry at the sight of her. Her tiny, frail body and greying hair look dull and lifeless.
“Stop crying. Right now. Your father will be coming in any second.”
“Why, Mom? Why?” I rush over to her and drop to my knees, crying even harder because of the feeling of loss. I’m completely at a loss. My dad has struck my mother before, but nothing even closely resembling this.
“What’s this? The prodigal daughter returns,” a grave voice booms from behind me.
I stand up slowly, turning to look at him. He’s filthy from working outside all day, the creases on his skin more prominent than last I remember.
“Dad,” I say softly, trying to find the courage inside of me that I needed to stay standing.
“Leslie. You home for good?”
“No,” I let out a huff of a laugh and his face turns grave. “I came to check on mom. She doesn’t look very good.”
“She took quite a fall helping me with the cows.”
“Fuck off,” I bite out meanly. I’ve never spoken to my father this way. My whole life, I just nodded and smiled or avoided him at all costs. But living in London the past year has changed that. I no longer feel stuck beneath his thumb. I was my own person. An adult. I’m twenty-one and this shit has to stop.
“Come again,” he says, looking at me furiously.
“You need to fuck off, Dad. You went way too far this time.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, kid.”
I swallow hard at the endearment—kid. It sends shivers down my spine.
“I’m calling the police,” I say, moving past him to grab my purse. His foot flies out and catches me on the side of my knee and I fall hard to the ground.
“Thomas!” my mother cries.
I wince at the pain radiating from his swift kick. I glance over my shoulder and see him standing stock-still over the top of me. I try to push myself up off the ground and he shoves me back down with his dirty boot, hard on my back. My back aches where his boot landed.
“You’ll stay down if you know what’s good for you,” he roars with an evil to his voice I’ve never heard before.
A large part of me wants to stay down, cowered in the fetal position until everything disappears. But the image of my mother’s bruised face and all the bruises I’ve ignored as a child flash across my memory and it makes me sick. I try to push myself up again.
He leans over and grips the back of my neck with his hand and squeezes hard. The tips of his fingers dig into the sides of my throat, restricting my airway some.
“Leslie!” my mother hisses. “Just stay down.”
Just when I start to get nervous and panicky for more air, his grip loosens slightly. “You think you’re tough now? Better than us?” he says spitefully.
I bite down on my tongue and quickly attempt to push myself up again. He lets me this time, but once I am on my feet, he shoves me hard away from him by my neck.
Feeling determined still, I reach to grab my purse off the table and he yanks my arm roughly to face him. Pain slices across my face as he backhands me and sends me halfway across the small kitchen. I manage to stay on my feet, but flinch as I feel the nick of his wedding ring catch the ridge of my cheekbone. The pain is minimal at first. I mostly feel shock and confusion over the feel of my brain being rattled in a way I have never felt before. Then bursts of pain shoot outward beneath the skin of my cheek in a fiery rage.
“Thomas, please!” my mother cries again, coming to stand between me and him, holding her hands out protectively. I clutch my face as my eyes well with tears. The sting of the salty tear running down my tender cheek smarts and I bite my lip, trying desperately to mask my emotions.
“Leslie, you need to go,” my mom utters wobbly, turning around, grabbing my arms and leading me to the door.
“Mom, come with me,” I cry. She shakes her head quickly and avoids eye contact. “Mom!” I cry again, trying to get her to look at me, trying to find any fraction of a piece of the mother I grew up with all those years.
“Leslie, stop it. You chose your life. I chose mine. You need to go. I’m asking you to leave!” Her face looks serious and panicky.
“Mom,” I huff, as I feel her drift away from me before my very eyes. “Please?”
She shakes her head no. “You go, Leslie. You make your own life. I’ll be just fine.” She pushes me out onto the deck and closes the door in my face, without so much as a glance back.
***
“That was the moment I knew. I would never have a relationship with my parents again. Marshall sure as hell wasn’t home anymore. And I would never let a man control me the way my father controlled my mother.”
I clear my throat loudly trying to compose myself enough to continue. I shrug my shoulders sadly as Theo cradles my head to his chest and strokes my hair over and over, his hands trembling.
“I went and hung out with Finley at college for a couple days after my mom kicked me out. I just went completely wild. Fin had no idea. I did what I always do. I put up a shield and masked all my pain with humor. Tom called me a couple days later and told me to come back home because he thought we could talk some sense into Mom if we were together and Dad was out of the house. No matter what we said to her, she wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t involve the police. She wouldn’t leave him.”
“So I flew back to London and didn’t talk to her for almost two years. Tom updated me on them here and there. I still couldn’t bring myself to call her. She emails now—occasionally. It’s strained, but it’s something, I guess.” I pull away from Theo’s chest to look him in the eyes for the first time since I started telling him my story. His pale brown eyes are wide and glossy and his face is covered in pity.
“Thinking about that moment I left my mother with him will haunt me forever. I’ve been living with so much shame for not doing more to help her. I could have called the cops that night. He assaulted me too. I was an adult. But I didn’t and it still makes me sick to my stomach that I did nothing. I just left!” My voice cracks at the end.
“You can’t force your mum to do anything, Leslie,” Theo says, looking at me seriously.
“Doesn’t change the shame. It’s still there. I think it’ll always be there for me in some small way.”
“Christ, Leslie. I’m so…I’m so…”
“Don’t say sorry,” I say, pulling away from him a bit more. “Remember, Theo? You told me I couldn’t say that to you. Same rules apply.”
“Fuck me, I want to find your dad and pummel him.” His vein muscles bulge as he looks away.
“My mom allowed herself to live under his thumb and rely on him for everything. It was the ultimate betrayal having her push me out the door when I was just trying to love her.” I shake my tears away and sniff loudly, clearing my throat. “Then I just tried to quit caring about them at all and focus on my friends and my job—they were safe for me.”
“You’ve done amazingly, Leslie. You have a great job, wonderful friends, and a home. You’ve created the best life for yourself despite him…them.”
“I know. But I hope now you can understand—if only just a little more—why I resisted you so hard. You were so pushy Theo, and so demanding and so…well, it scared me! I made a promise to myself that I’d never let a man affect me like that.”
“Christ, Leslie, I’m nothing like your father,” he groans, frustratingly rubbing his hand over his head.
“I know, Theo, but I was terrified of being vulnerable to any man! I didn’t want to need anyone but myself.”
“It’s okay to need me, Leslie. I bloody well need you!” he says, leaning forward and holding my hands tightly between his. I swallow hard, looking down at our hands and how different they look side by side.
“Leslie…you hold all the cards, surely you know that.”
I smile sadly. “I want to share the cards, finally. With you.” I look up at him smiling, my eye sparkling with more tears. “Fifty/fifty. Well…maybe 33/33/33.”
He looks at me quizzically.
“This baby, Theo. I think I’m happy for it. I think it’s our chance to really atone. Make up for all the darkness in our life with something beautiful. We can be beautiful parents, don’t you think?”
He laughs adoringly at me. “Of course, Leslie. You’re going to be the best mum and I am going to be crushed with more love than I’ll know how to handle.”
“Crushed with love?”
“Crushed with love.”
“Sounds badass,” I smirk and he chuckles, pulling me into him for a kiss.
“Sounds perfect,” he murmurs against my lips, tenderly stroking my belly. That little touch to my stomach makes everything click into place. This man is worth needing. He’s worth trusting and we’re going to pull each other out of the darkness. Together. As a family.
***
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
“I’m sick with nerves, Theo.”
“Don’t be. She’s your best mate, Leslie. She won’t hate you. I know it.”
We’ve just returned from the doctor’s office and had our first ultrasound. We saw our baby. Our baby! I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure as far as ultrasounds go, we knocked ours out of the park. Surely not all parents can say their babies danced during their first scan. Our baby didn’t just dance…she had moves! Or he, I suppose, but I’m convinced it’s a girl. Our ten-week-old little babe was putting on an epic show for its mommy and daddy and shit got really real, really fast.
Now my bubble is shattered as I sit in Theo’s car, willing myself the strength to go into the house and talk to Finley.
Finley. My best friend.
I went through a horrendous time with her last year when she got her official infertility diagnosis. It crushed her. It nearly ruined her and Brody forever. She did not handle it well and now her best friend that she ran to for solace is going to drop this bomb on her.
I’m such a jerk!
I wrench the door open and barely even say goodbye to Theo. I can’t be troubled with pleasantries. I need to talk to my best friend.
I push open our purple door and my eyes land on Finley as she comes bouncing down the stairs.
“Hey! I was just looking for you in your room. Where you been?”
I swallow hard. “Let’s chat.”
“Cool, come to my room, I want your help picking out what to wear tonight. Brody is taking me on this Jack the Ripper walking tour and I have no damn clue what to wear to something like that!”
I laugh dumbly and follow her to her bedroom.
“Where’s Brody?” I ask, looking around nervously.
“Working at the new job! He’s loving it,” she says, walking into their walk-in closet and shouting out at me as she rifles through her clothes. “He says restoring historical buildings is a whole new world he never would have had an opportunity with back in the states. I’m so happy. Moving out here was such a big deal for us, ye know? It was such a leap of faith with Brody not having a job, but it’s all working out! It’s meant to be!”
“Finley,” I interrupt her supposed monologue, joining her in her huge closet.
“What?” she says, looking quizzically at me. “What’s wrong, Lez?”
“Can we sit?” I ask and she nods and starts to walk out but stops in her tracks when I plop my butt down and sit crisscross on the floor in the middle of her closet.
“I need to tell you something, Finley. I’m so scared because it’s something I am very happy about—but I don’t know if you will be.”
“What is it?” she asks, sounding startled and mirroring my seated position, touching my knees encouragingly.
“It was an accident Fin and that only makes it all worse. But I want you to know that if I could make this okay for you…if I could fix any of it for you…I’d do it. I’d do anything for you, Finley, do you know that?”
“Yes, Lezzie, I know! Please tell me. You’re freaking me out.”
“I’m pregnant,” I say, dropping my chin and eyeing her carefully.
Her mouth opens in a perfect O and she blinks dazedly for a moment.
“It just happened. I fucked up on my birth control. I didn’t take them when I should have. We’ve had an ultrasound just today and I’m ten weeks and I’m freaking out because you’re my best friend and I know how bad you want this and how hard you tried and—”
“Leslie!” Finley snaps and I shut my mouth instantly. “You said you’re happy about this?”
I nod silently.
“Then there is nothing more to say, you idiot!” she cries, holding my arms and looking at me seriously. I let out a huge puff of shaky air and smile sadly at her.
“After everything with last year and you and Brody…I just…I didn’t want to hurt you, Finley. The very last thing I wanted to do was hurt you. I’ve been sick with nerves at the idea of telling you this!”
“Leslie,” she groans. “I don’t want your pity. That’s the very last thing I want. Do you know how terrible it feels to be pitied for something you can’t control?”
I look at her strong, stoic face and my chin begins to wobble.
“I wasn’t trying to pity you,” I say in a choked whisper.
“Being afraid to tell me something you’re happy about because you’re sorry that I can’t have that same happiness, is pity, Leslie. I don’t deserve that.”
>
“I’m sorry,” I say weakly.
“I know you are. You just don’t understand. But you need to know that I’m going to be okay here. Yes, it sucks that I’ve wanted children for so long and I can’t have them. I’m still processing those feeling. But I’ve got Brody by my side and he is everything I need in life. Just him. I am perfectly fulfilled by his love and his love alone.”
I nod wobbly at her.
“I don’t know what our future holds for children. I have no clue and I don’t really want to even think about that for a while. The world is our oyster right now and we live in a brand new country with all new experiences. No pity for me, Leslie. Ever.”
“Okay. No pity,” I say seriously and we both laugh pathetically at each other.
“And honestly Leslie, if it was going to be easy and miraculous for anyone, anyone in the whole wide world, I would choose you! You’re going to make the most wonderful mother.”
“You really think so? I’m kind of a moron a lot,” I say on a strange strangled crying laugh and Finley smiles at me adorably.
“You are…but that’s what’s going to make you such an awesome mom. That kid is going to have the best life. And for the moments where you’re really acting like a moron, she…or he…will have Auntie Finley to run to.”
“I would just love that, Finny,” I say and she pulls me in for an awkward hug over the top of our legs.
“God, we’re going to have to clean up our potty mouths!” she groans.
“Oh fuck, we have loads of time for that,” I say and we both erupt into a fit of giggles.
An hour later, Brody walks into the bedroom shouting for Finley.
“In here, babe!” Finley calls from where we’re both laid out flat on the floor of her closet.
“Frank was looking for you two,” Brody says from the doorway, looking down on us completely at ease with this strange place we’ve chosen to gab for over an hour.
I hear Frank before I see him. “Is that my Lezzie, Fin-Fin?”
“Yep, they’re right here,” Brody says, thumbing over our way.
Frank’s tall lanky frame pops right in next to Brody. He looks hilarious all skinny and trendy, with bright frizzy hair standing next to tall, broad, Brawny-Man Brody. They are quite the pair.