Never Forever

by Johnson, L. R.

  “Dad, would you like to cut the cord?” the doctor whispers, handing surgical scissors over to Callum.

  Instantly I snap out of the trance I have been in. Reality suddenly comes to the forefront of my mind. Turning quickly towards Callum, I notice he is staring down at me and my miraculous newborn baby boy lying tenderly against my chest. A slight tear is forming in the corner of his eye, while he witnesses the newly formed bond between a mother and child. Wrapping my arms around my baby, I gaze up at Callum with a sense of possession.

  Noticing my sudden reaction, his shoulders slump slightly and he utters softly, “If you don’t want me to cut the cord then I won’t, but if you don’t mind I would love to share in this experience.”

  Allowing him to do this act that is usually reserved for the father is both an honor and a heart-break. Knowing this irritating and obnoxious boy will be the one cutting the cord causes a conundrum of emotions to roll through me, shredding me up inside. Though he irritates me, I cannot deny the bond now formed between us. Looking into Callum’s strong, yet gentle face, his caramel eyes gaze down upon me, reminding me how he willingly stepped into the role of knight in shining armor. Looking up at him I realize everything he has been put through today. I now see him with very different eyes. His well-built physique and good looks is usually thrown off by his lackadaisical and arrogant shroud, but his protective covering has melted away. A sensitive and kind core now pours out of him, causing him to appear even more charismatic to me.

  Looking into his liquid caramel eyes, I respond to his statement, “I would be honored if you would cut the cord.”

  “Thank you!” A beam of joy spreads across his face, lighting up his seductive eyes.

  Reacting on his impulse he bends down, placing a soft, passion-filled kiss on my mouth. His soft, moist lips gently move against my mouth, causing a wave of passion to vibrate within the pit of my stomach. The intense situation we have gone through together is liberated as our lips vigorously connect. Freely I respond to his now fervent kiss with equal zeal. Our mouths move aggressively against each other, as we surrender the overpowering need pulsating within us, causing my heart to hammer aggressively against my chest.

  While we are lost in the hypnotic state of our passionate and overzealous kiss, a sudden low coughing sound of someone clearing their throat snaps us out of our state, “I don’t mean to bother the both of you, but you are going to have to remove your lips from hers if you are going to cut the baby’s cord. It is very blatant how happy the both of you are, but this little boy can’t wait any longer.”

  Callum slowly pulls his head away from mine, staring deep into my hazel green eyes. The countenance within his eyes immediately transforms from a soft passion-filled appearance to a completely terrified expression. The furrow between his eyes narrows, causing a cold business-like façade to wash over him, guarding his emotions.

  “Thank you Breanna, for letting me cut the cord, even though we both know I am not the baby’s father,” he whispers, in a flat icy tone.

  His words pierce right through me as I watch him walk over and cut the tie that binds my baby and me. A surge of revulsion and anger forms in the pit of my stomach then vibrates through me, causing my hands to tremble against my innocent child. What was I thinking? This is not supposed to be an emotion for me. I can’t have any feelings for someone, least of all this arrogant ass. I am now a single eighteen year old mother. I cannot act like I am still a teenager anymore. I can’t and won’t be Callum’s play-thing.

  Gazing down at my miracle, I stare into his eyes, uttering softly, “Looks like it is just me and you… Noah. I want you to always know you were conceived in love and will grow in love. I promise.”

  The nurse walks over to me, gently removing Noah from my protective grasp. She carries him over to the examining table to weigh, measure, and clean him up. My eyes anxiously follow them when suddenly Callum utters, “You did great, but now that you don’t need me here anymore, I think I am going to leave. I am abso-bloody-lutely exhausted.”

  Shutting my emotions off I respond to him in an impersonal tone, trying to mirror his sudden distance, “You fulfilled your duty completely. I appreciate it, but you are right, I don’t need you anymore.”

  He stares at me with a cold yet quizzical expression on his face. The brick wall which had crumbled during our episode together now re-appears. It seems Callum is rebuilding the wall, brick by brick, uttering flatly, “Well, I always know how you feel about things. You either state the obvious or you have no problem showing me.” Callum begins rubbing the side of his face, recalling the sting I left on his cheek after I slapped him.

  “I guess that is something we both have in common then,” glaring deeply into his eyes I add, “Your stings hurt just as bad. They just don’t leave a physical mark.”

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” he utters emotionlessly, with an air of conceit.

  Shaking my head back and forth in disbelief at the sudden transformation he has undergone, I utter with a thick note of disdain, “Oh, I am sorry. That’s right, I am the idiot here. Why should I be upset at the fact that you kissed me again?” Looking into his eyes with regret, I add, “This time though, I did kiss you back, only to feel like a foolish girl afterwards, falling for your meaningless kiss. As soon as you realized your mistake you became as cold as ice, trying to get out of here as soon as possible.” The recent experience I am still enveloped in causes my emotions to ride on the knife’s edge of self-control and a hormone imbalance. I immediately fall off of the edge, succumbing to an uncontrollable crying fit.

  “Breanna, it wasn’t meaningless, I…” he gazes back at me with the same fearful expression now streaming through his face, again. Immediately he stops what he was going to say, uttering firmly, “You don’t bloody understand.”

  “You are right, I don’t understand, but you don’t understand my situation either.”

  His normal relaxed posture tightens up as if his spine instantly turns to stone, “No one knows your mysterious situation. Breanna, where is your baby’s father? Why are you here in England all alone and not in America with your family? Why…”

  “Stop!” I yell as I continue my crying fit, falling deeper into the emotional pit of despair, causing a tremulous wave to roll over me.

  The nurse instantly comes over to me, “Are you alright?”

  “Yes. Mr. Hughes is just leaving, that is all.” I look up at Callum with tears streaming down my face. Anger flows through me as I realize this beautiful experience has been poisoned by his pride and arrogance. Not wanting to look at him anymore, I stare down at my slightly exposed breasts. Grabbing the blanket I pull it up over me, protecting my body from any more unneeded exposure.

  “You want to leave, now?” A bewildered expression flashes across the nurse’s face as she adds, “Don’t you want to hold the baby?”

  Though my eyes remain affixed to the blanket over me, I can feel his gaze cutting into me like lasers zeroing in on my thoughts, “No, I think it is best if I go and get some rest. Thank you and take good care of…” He looks down at me then over to Noah, who is now being swaddled in a hospital blanket, “…Noah.”

  The hospital door instantly closes, causing a bolt of sorrow to pierce through me with the reverberating sound it makes. The loneliness I have grown accustomed to once again wraps around me like an old wool blanket. The warmth and familiarity I can appreciate, but the uncomfortable itch it leaves on my skin is unbearable. I may put on a tough shroud, but the painful circumstances I have had to endure are taking a toll on me. My tears flow down my cheeks like giant waterfalls. Suddenly the edge of my bed pushes down from the weight of someone sitting on it.

  “Would you like to hold your little boy?” a nurse asks. I look up only to discover this is the same nurse who wasn’t going to let Callum in unless I said he was the baby’s father. She is the only one here who knows that Callum is not Noah’s father.

  “Yes, please,” I grab hold of Noah, fi
rmly holding him against my chest. Looking down I examine his every detail. His soft olive skin, thick brown hair with golden highlights painted delicately across the tips, and almond shaped eyes balancing perfectly on either side of his adorable pudgy nose. His features bring to my mind a mixture of joy intermingling with painful memories. The similarities are absolutely uncanny. His sweet hand opens up, revealing his long, delicate fingers. Placing my finger into the palm of his hand, he instinctively wraps his fingers tightly around mine.

  “I am a single mother also. You will be fine,” the nurse utters softly.

  “I hope. He came into this world under unfair circumstances. I pray that an angelic soul will be sent to help us.”

  “Do you have any other family here besides the man who left?”

  A slight snort pushes through my nose, “He’s not family. He’s not even a friend. I barely know him. He is just an arrogant jerk that is in one of my classes. I have no one. I am a stranger in a foreign land.” Looking up into her eyes I add, “I am completely alone.”

  “Wow. Why did you come here then, especially being pregnant? Shouldn’t you be with the baby’s father or at least your family?”

  “I should, but that scenario is only in my dreams. The real world has a much harsher plan for me. I am only here to keep a promise.”

  Enveloping Noah in my secure arms, I press him tightly against me, noticing that he is beginning to fall asleep.

  “Remember, dreams are the kindling to hope. And with hope and faith anything is possible,” she adds, stroking Noah’s hair delicately.

  “I guess,” I skeptically sigh.

  “And what about the arrogant jerk? There is definitely something resonating between you both, it is blatant. The way you wouldn’t let go of him, nor was he about to leave you, either. And, well, let’s just point out the obvious kiss between you both. He appears to be more than just someone you barely know.”

  “There is nothing between us. It was just a heat of the moment kiss,” I state flatly, trying to hide the fact that I actually enjoyed it. During the moments of my labor and frantic delivery, his chivalry and kindness formed a bond linking us together, like oil and water emulsifying, creating an inseparable union. But that too is just a dream. Besides, I would be cheating on my heart and that I can never do.

  “Not blooming likely, but you can just go on fooling yourself,” she states blatantly. “I better let you rest while you have a chance to, because once he is awake you will be entering the world of Zombieland.” A sarcastic laugh escapes her, “Would you like me to take your baby to the nursery so you can sleep?”

  “No! I don’t want him leaving my side!” Realizing the intensity in my voice I instantly tone it down, “Thank you, though.”

  “If you need anything just give me a buzz,” she states, pointing to the call button on the side of the bed.

  Extreme exhaustion flows over me as I listen to the slow, soft breaths Noah is making. My breathing begins to mirror his as I gaze out the window. I watch how the rippling rivulets of raindrops hit different areas of the glass, yet roll towards each other like magnets, combining their forces as they stream down the glass. As I examine this paradox, a hypnotic state slowly consumes me, sending my languid body deeper and deeper into a state of relaxation.

  A quiet sense of peace floats throughout the room as my mind dances around the reality of being a mother. As I silently soak in all the details of Noah’s face I can hear boisterous cries of joy from the people in the room next to me. The myriad of elated comments piercing through the wall sends a sensation of tremendous loneliness to conquer my mind. All the comments seem to be coming from family members who are completely overjoyed for the blest couple.

  This is a joyous day for me also, but there is no one here to share it with. Out of my peripheral vision I notice the phone sitting ominously on the night-stand. Trying to fight the urge to call, I begin debating with myself as to how ridiculous I am being.

  Instantly I hear a low voice coming from the room next door stating enthusiastically, “I am the luckiest bloke right now. I have a beautiful wife who just blessed me with a handsome baby boy.” Their room erupts with roaring cheers, causing my internal debate to end.

  Grabbing hold of the phone I begin mindlessly dialing. The chance of her even answering the phone is slim to none, but I need to at least try. The anxiety pulsing throughout me increases as the phone feels like it is ringing for eternity. Just as I am about to hang up, the ringing stops and a gruff woman’s voice states firmly, “What kind of idiot calls me this early in the morning? Someone better be dead!”

  Immediately I remember the time difference, realizing it is about 5:00 o’clock in the morning. Trying to buffer the shock, I quietly respond, “Hi, mom.”

  “Who is this?” her voice has a hint of irritation to it as she slurs out the words.

  “It’s me, Breanna.”

  “What the hell? Why are you calling me? Please don’t tell me you are in jail,” her jumbled speech compliments her foul mouth perfectly.

  “No mom, that is your area of expertise,” I state coldly, remembering all the times I got a call from her in the middle of the night stating she was in jail, and could I come bail her out.

  “Did you just call to remind me of how much of a lousy mother I am? If so, then at least give me the decency of allowing me to pour myself a stiff drink first.”

  Alcohol has always been my mom’s first and only love in her life. Every memory I have of my mother always involved her being drunk or getting drunk. The inconsistency of where we lived or what job she had, was the only consistency in my life. The small glimpses of sobriety were either court-ordered or child protective service-induced. When she is sober she is a completely different person. There were a few times she really tried to be the kind of mother she knew she should be, working two jobs to pay the bills and give me everything she thought I needed. But all I wanted was a stable mother, something she couldn’t give me longer than a few months here and there. When she would go through one of her binges I would usually leave, running to the only person I could trust. I could go for months without even talking to her and she wouldn’t even realize I was gone. I haven’t seen or talked to my mother for a year now and she has no idea. It is as if her brain has been pickled by the alcohol, affecting the way her mind now works. She has no concept of time or reality.

  Wanting to get off the subject of alcohol and her parenting skills, or lack thereof, I utter, “I am sorry for the rude statement. I just called to tell you that you are a grandmother.”

  “You had a baby?”

  “Yes. I just gave birth to a beautiful little boy, today.”

  “Who is the little bastard’s father?” she blatantly states.

  I can almost smell the alcohol through the phone. What am I thinking, calling her? I am an idiot. I just wanted to have what the family next to me is experiencing, someone excited about Noah’s birth. My anger and disappointment towards my mother pushes out. “He is not a bastard child! You know nothing about me or my life anymore. All you care about is where your bottles of vodka and gin are. I just wanted to talk to my mom and attempt to share in this celebration. But I can see I am asking way too much from you. I am sorry for disturbing your hangover respite, but look at it this way, you can now continue drinking. Good-bye.”

  My loud and disdainful conversation causes Noah to wake up, immediately realizing he is starving to death. Freeing his source of food from my hospital gown, I begin feeding him. Looking down into his sweet face I utter softly, “I am at least excited you are here.”

  My breathing is beginning to return to its normal rhythm. That is a conversation I don’t ever want to have again. I cannot let her in anymore. I have to come to grips with the fact that the mother within my dreams never existed. My mother is a constant disappointment, hurting me too severely for someone my age to handle. I have already experienced way too much for an eighteen year old, I don’t need my mother’s problems also. It looks like it is
just me and Noah, and I am okay with that.

  Suddenly there is a soft tap on my hospital room door. Trying not to disturb Noah I whisper, “Come in.”

  “Well, now I know what kind of a bloody friend you are. I may have been the first person here in England you told about being pregnant, but I had to find out about your delivery from my brother,” Olivia sarcastically states, as she comes walking in carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers.

  I have never been so excited to see someone as I am to see her. Her beaming take-no-prisoner attitude is such a sharp contrast to her beauty and petite features. But even more shocking is how her tough attitude is such a sharp contrast from her loving and compassionate nature.

  An immediate elated sensation washes over me, “Olivia, I am so glad you are here. I’m not alone now.”

  A large smile spreads across her face, “Of course you are not alone. You have me, remember?”

  The Space Between Us

  We sit in the cab outside of my flat, preparing to enter my new world, “Olivia, it is nice enough that you brought Noah and me home from the hospital. But you didn’t need to buy me a car seat also. I could have bought one myself.”

  Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head slightly, adding, “Not blooming likely. When would you have had the chance to get one? Were you just planning on leaving Noah in the hospital while you run out and purchase a car seat? They would have never let you leave without one.”

  She definitely has a way of pointing out the obvious. A huge smile spreads across my face as I stare at her in complete appreciation, “I could have never made it through this without you.”

  A quizzical smile dances in the corners of her mouth as she searches my eyes for a deeper answer, “And who else?”

  I know what she wants me to say, but the anger I feel for him and the embarrassment I feel towards myself is still fresh in my mind. He literally carried me through my labor and delivery, but what happened afterwards left me feeling confused and disappointed with the both of us. It is the first time I have felt something in a long time. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help me through it, but how he just shut me off after we kissed left me feeling like a piece of useless trash. The look in his eyes held an enormous amount of regret, causing me to feel like I had just committed adultery. The resonating sickness and humiliation is still spinning within me.