The Opposite of Love

by Sarah Lynn Scheerger

  Shit, her stomach hurts. Her stomach hurts so bad she almost can’t think. The world weighs heavily on her, like a two-ton weight dragging her down by the middle. Never mind, she thinks. I don’t want to do this anymore. I changed my mind. She feels Nala rub against her ankles and wind her way around her feet, trying to comfort her, but it doesn’t work. For a split second, Rose wishes she hadn’t turned Chase away.

  Her stomach muscles tighten, and a wave of ache washes over her. The aching started out dull. But now the ache takes her breath away. Like it really is an ocean wave washing over her, and she can’t breathe until it passes.

  When it does pass, Rose sinks onto the bed. Nala leaps up next to her, licking Rose’s hand with her rough tongue. Rose feels the pressure of tears backing up in her throat and her eyes.

  Rose wishes for the thousandth time that she had a picture of her mother. She could squeeze out a few tears if she could just see her mother’s face. She wants to remember the things that have started to fade from her memory. The way her mother’s nose has a slight crease at the tip, hardly noticeable unless you really look for it, as if someone had taken a cookie cutter and pressed it into her soft skin ever so gently at birth. She remembers the way her mother’s eyes catch the light in the sunshine, the way they sparkle when she isn’t working, when she wears no makeup at all. She wonders how much she resembles her mother now.

  Two sounds make Rose jerk up her head. They happen at the exact same second, so that afterward she isn’t sure whether they were two distinct sounds or one and the same. A soft but determined knock of knuckles on the motel door. A muted pop that Rose feels almost more than she hears. She stands up and freezes, unable to move or even to think. Then the gushing of water. Like a bathtub faucet.

  She looks down at a growing puddle on the floor. She hadn’t realized there would be so much. The gushing slows and then her stomach settles, like dirt adjusting after an earthquake, and out comes another mini flood. “Well, shit,” she says out loud. “My freaking water broke.”

  55

  ROSE

  In the split second before Daniel’s Ford misses the traffic light, the full reality of what’s happening slams into Chase. He feels like an idiot for not seeing it before. Chase grips the door handle the way a panicked thought grips his heart. She isn’t getting rid of it, is she? But if she isn’t getting rid of it, why is she hiding it from me?

  “Why didn’t you go for the yellow? You could have made it!” Becca squirms in her seat like she wants to climb right out of her skin. “We’re going to lose her now!”

  “Relax. I didn’t want to kill us.”

  Chase turns his whole body on the truck seat to face them. “We can’t lose her.” He steadies himself. “I just figured out what’s happening … and we can’t lose her.”

  Becca’s voice takes on an irritatingly high pitch, reminding Chase of a wayward garden hose filled with water and flipping around—until Daniel punches her in the arm. Chase’s eyes scan the road while he brings them up to date. They sit quiet, thinking. Digesting.

  The red light lasts nearly a minute. Daniel floors the gas through the intersection, but the taxi has long since disappeared. Chase’s heart accelerates like he’s just chugged a keg of Red Bull.

  After what seems like hours but is probably only minutes, Chase spies a taxi exiting the driveway of a Sleepy Nite Inn. Or is it a Motel 6? Or a Comfort Inn? All three are right next to each other. Who knows why some idiot would decide to build three motels right in a row like that. Probably the same logic that makes gas stations pop up on opposite corners, so that their customers can stare at each other while they pump gas and wonder whether they got the best deal.

  “Turn here!” Chase demands. “We’re splitting up. We each take a different one. Go to the front desk and try to find out if Rose has checked in.”

  “Van Nuys Hospital is right down the street. Shouldn’t we check there?”

  “I’m just following my gut. If I’m wrong, we’ll hit the local hospitals next.” Chase nudges Becca out of the truck as soon as it slides into a parking space. He points her in the direction of the Motel 6 and heads for the Sleepy Nite. Standing in front of the registration desk, he realizes no hotel employee will tell him where Rose is staying. He could be a stalker for all they know. Besides, Rose wouldn’t have been stupid enough to register with her real name.

  As a birdlike woman with a raspy voice greets him, Chase’s mind calculates and recalculates options. “Can I help you?” she asks. If there ever was an antismoking poster child, it is this woman. She reeks of tobacco. Her teeth are yellowed in the front but blackened on the inside, and her voice sounds like throat cancer is knocking at the door. He should drag Becca in here for pure shock value.

  “Yes. I just dropped a young lady off about five minutes ago, and I realized she left an earring in my cab.” Chase stands in front of the desk so the woman can’t see his pajama-bottom pants. “The earring looks expensive, so I thought I should bring it back.”

  “Young girl?” The woman’s eyes keep flicking back to a television screen in the background. It’s a Wonderful Life.

  “Yeah. Hair in braids like an Indian princess.”

  “Oh, her. Room 22.”

  “Thanks. Merry Christmas,” Chase calls over his shoulder.

  “Don’t celebrate it. But I get time-and-a-half for working on a holiday, so you don’t hear me complaining.”

  Chase makes a noise he hopes sounds like agreement and heads back out to the cold early morning air. The cold seeps into his flannel pants, and he shoves his hands into the pockets. Room 22. He knocks softly the first time, not wanting to have the wrong room—not wanting to come face to face with some hick in a wife-beater tank top, irritated at being woken up in the middle of the night. He hears a female voice curse inside, though, and it sounds like Rose.

  The second time he knocks, he puts a little wrist action in it. Still no answer. He makes his next move before he fully thinks it through, which is good because if he had, he never would have had the balls to do it. He simply leans into the door and turns the handle. It must not have been fully closed, because the door opens.

  Rose sits in the middle of the cheap motel rug, halfway in between the plaster-chipped wall and the bed, right smack in a puddle of water. Her cat is perched on the bed, watching him, poised and ready to flee. Rose lifts her chin toward him, like she’s looking at him, but her eyes are far away. “Leave me alone,” she mumbles.

  His heart climbs into his throat and makes it tighten up like a corkscrew. “Is it mine?” He barely squeaks, standing in the doorway, halfway in, halfway out.

  “Leave. Me. Alone.”

  “No.” He steps in fully, pushing the door closed behind him. He kneels down to her level, and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes from tearing up. “Rose, you owe me this. Are you having my baby?”

  “Leave me the hell alone.” She stares at him now, her eyes hard.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “You would’ve wanted me to get rid of it.”

  Oh my god. It’s mine. Chase tries to steady his voice. “No—I would have wanted to consider some options. I sure as hell wouldn’t have moved to Bakersfield and left you alone to figure it out.” Chase takes a deep breath and grabs a couple towels from the bathroom. He tosses one to her.

  “Oh, come on. You’re no better than any other teenaged accidental sperm donor. You would have pulled together money for a clinic. Guaranteed.”

  “Maybe you don’t know me very well.” Chase sits down in front of her so she can’t avoid his eyes. “I’m all for pro-choice and that shit, but I can’t imagine being okay with erasing my own child.” She looks away. Chase shifts his position once again so he can see into her eyes. They still seem distant. “And I’m here now. What’s your plan?”

  “My plan?” She laughs almost, but it isn’t an oh-that’s-fu
nny laugh, it’s a life-is-shitty laugh. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to go into labor today, that’s for sure.” She hesitates. “It sounds stupid now, saying it out loud.”

  “Tell me you weren’t planning to have this baby in a dingy motel room.”

  She looks at him for a long time. “If I go to a hospital, my parents will find out.”

  “Okay, so I’m new at this whole childbirth thing. But back in the day when women used to birth their children at home—and, by the way, they had mothers and sisters and aunts all there to help them, and sterile sheets and boiled water—back in the day, women died giving birth. Babies died being born.” Chase feels a new rush of adrenaline, and he straightens up. “No offense, Rose, but this isn’t all up to you. This is half my decision.”

  Rose clenches her teeth. “There is no freaking way I am letting my parents get their hands on this baby. I’d rather die.”

  “So you want to keep it?”

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to dump it somewhere, if that’s what you think.” She stares at him, but his gaze doesn’t falter. “And you know how I feel about being adopted. How could I do that to someone else? What else can I—” Rose breaks off, doubling over, groaning so loud that Nala leaps from the bed and darts into the bathroom. Chase can see now, as she hunches, a distinct roundness in her middle. Amazing how much big, baggy clothes can hide.

  “I’m getting you to a hospital.” Chase stands.

  Rose glares at him from the floor. “Screw you. I’ll refuse to go.”

  “Then I’ll call the cops. You’ll be endangering the life of a child if you try to do this on your own.”

  Rose looks like she is about to come back with something caustic, but instead she grabs for his hand and holds on tight. She looks up at him. Her eyes are no longer distant. They are right there with him and wider than he’s ever seen them. Terrified. The dark centers looks like a black holes. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I did, but now I don’t. I just … I promised myself I’d give this child a better start than I had.”

  “You don’t have to give your real name at the hospital. Just say you have no insurance. They have to help you anyway if it’s an emergency.”

  “Yeah?” Rose whispers.

  “First we’ll make sure you’re both safe, and then we’ll worry about what to do, okay?” Chase boosts her to a standing position. Rose doesn’t answer. He finds her eyes again. “You’re not alone with this anymore. We’ll figure something out. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She mouths the word, but no sound comes out.

  56

  ROSE

  When Becca arrives, she looks all sheepish. “Glad you’re all right,” Becca mumbles to Rose under her breath and then she adds, “Sorry for being so hard on you.” Daniel scoops Nala up into his arms.

  Rose does her best to smile, even though her belly starts to tighten again. She’s in no mood for a heart-to-heart. It feels like someone has stuck her middle in a vise and squeezed. “Hey, if you dish it out, you got to take it, right? I just don’t take it very well.”

  Becca seems to take that as an invitation to try to reconnect. “You’re my best friend, Rose. I have to tell it to you how it is. Who else will?”

  “Who says I want to hear it like it is?” Rose asks, shuffling past her. She’s only half kidding. “Just agree with everything I say and we’ll get along fine.”

  “When have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut?”

  Rose grips her belly with two hands. “Only when you’re eating or smoking a cigarette, and even then … not so much.”

  Chase steps in front of Becca, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Right now would be a good time to start practicing the art of silence. I’m sort of on a time schedule. We’ve got to get to the hospital.”

  “You’re on a time schedule?” Rose interrupts. “I’m on a time schedule.”

  “Ahhh. It’s good to have you back.” Daniel sighs, all sappy and sarcastic.

  “Screw you.” Rose almost smiles again, and this time it’s genuine.

  “You know what else?” Becca says, and she sounds tentative. “You need to work on your comebacks. A little variety here, please?”

  “Yeah. Next time you’re in this much pain, I’d like to see how creative your comebacks are. I can hardly see straight, let alone think of a comeback.”

  Chase pulls the motel bed apart, using the middle fuzzy blanket to wrap around Rose’s shoulders as they walk outside. He boosts her into the truck and then buckles her seat belt for her. It’s been so long since someone has taken care of her. It feels strange, almost painful. Or maybe she’s confusing that with the contractions. Damn, those hurt. Each one more than the last.

  It gets so that her vision actually narrows when one hits, the edges turning to blackness, leaving her only able to see what’s directly in front of her. So it’s Chase that leads her into the emergency room and helps her fill out paperwork. He eases her into a wheelchair and then a hospital bed. She uses “Julie Taylor” for her name and a fake address. Lies about her age.

  The actual birth of the baby passes in a pain-filled haze, except the way Chase stays by her head the whole time, smoothing her sweaty hair and telling her she can do it. Except for the way the baby’s wailing brings Rose goose bumps and tears. Except for the way Rose’s heart turns to mush when the doctor holds the baby out to her—tiny, wriggling, and looking royally pissed off.

  But the baby stops crying the minute the doctor lays her on Rose’s chest—all gross and gooey and looking like something from a science fiction flick—and yet she’s beautiful. The baby opens her eyes for a second and looks at Rose. Studies her. Then with her ear against Rose’s beating chest, the baby closes her eyes again. Like she knows she’s home. That part Rose knows she’ll remember every day for the rest of her life.

  57

  CHASE

  For a top-secret baby in a hospital with a two-visitor-limit, there sure are a lot of people squashed into Room 227.

  Hours earlier, Chase had broken down and called Candy when Rose kicked him out of the room for her cervix dilation check. Relieved to miss that, Chase’s excuse for calling his mom was that he didn’t want her to worry. He had, after all, left the house in the middle of the night—no note, wearing pajama bottoms.

  In reality, though, he called because he wanted her to know. And because he wanted her to come. And come she did, with “Auntie Daisy” in tow. Slightly shocked, of course, but who except Rose wasn’t? To her credit, Candy didn’t criticize at all. Maybe she realized how hypocritical that would be.

  Daniel had called his parents too, giving them some but not all of the information about where he was and what he was doing. His explanation wound up being both splotchy and guarded, causing some degree of alarm. The Steins hopped right in their car as well, and since Mr. Stein drove and his sense of direction was light years better than his wife’s, they wound up arriving only minutes after Candy.

  Chase thought Rose would’ve been pissed with a capital P about all the uninvited guests, but she seemed surprisingly mellow. Maybe it was whatever meds she’d taken for the pain. Of course, everyone there had a few words of wisdom to impart to Chase and Rose—something Chase found more than a little irritating, but it didn’t matter. It was their decision. Legally adults or not, they’d created a baby, and the decision was theirs to make … and theirs to regret.

  Daisy sits perched at the foot of Rose’s bed, her hair sticking up every which way and looking more uncombed than ever. She peeks over at the bundle in Rose’s arms. “Man, this is way better than the cat. I’ll babysit any time you want!”

  Rose just stares at the baby, like she’s trying to memorize her tiny face. Chase doesn’t think he’s ever seen a human being that small, although obviously he’d been around when Daisy had been born. This baby—his baby—weighed in at a tiny five pounds, two ounces,
but the hospital staff assured them she was healthy. She didn’t need to spend any time in an incubator.

  Her whole chest rises and falls as she breathes, sleeping in Rose’s arms. The nurse dressed her in a baby-doll-sized shirt that buttons between her legs and a thin little beanie on her head. She’s wrapped in a blanket like a burrito with one miniature foot sticking out. The foot doesn’t even look real. It looks like it belongs to a doll. Tiny, pink, and softer than anything he’s ever touched.

  Mr. and Mrs. Stein hang back by the door, out of the way. Becca pulls a chair up next to Rose. “The cat’s in the car with the windows cracked and a dish of water. She should be fine, and we’ll go out and check on her every hour.” Becca pauses, and her face looks uncertain. Rose doesn’t even glance up. “Watch out, Rose,” Becca adds. “You look like you’re falling in love.”

  Rose murmurs, “Nothing wrong with that.” She strokes the baby’s head with her hand, the IV moving along with her.

  Now Becca really looks uncomfortable, like she’s buttoned her jeans too tight or something. “Not if you’re gonna keep this baby. But Rose, think for a minute. How in the world can you keep this baby?”

  Now Rose looks up, her eyes full of tears and hate and fear all mixed together. Daniel puts his arm on Becca’s shoulder. “Maybe now isn’t the right time … ”

  “Look at her! She’s practically got stars in her eyes,” Becca interrupts. “If she’s thinking of giving up the baby, she can’t let herself get so attached.”

  Chase surprises himself by saying, “We’re not giving up the baby.” All eyes turn his way. “Well, we’re not. How could we?”

  No one says anything for a long moment. Becca seems like she wants to say more, but instead she looks down at her feet. A surge of adrenaline pulses through Chase’s veins. Who asked you? he thinks. “I need to take a walk,” he hears himself saying. “When I get back, I think Rose and I need some time alone. Why doesn’t everybody go get something to eat?”