Sawyer
I soothed Olivia back to sleep. The thunder quieted so that she was nodding off on my shoulder within minutes. I held her for a long time, my eyes closed, feeling her little weight and warmth against my chest.
Is this one of the last times?
I fortified myself against the thought, but hope was draining out of me, minute by minute. It didn’t matter how much I loved her and that I thought of her as my own. The paternity test would read 0% probability, in black and white, and the judge’s ruling would be final.
The impassivity of the law I’d taken such great comfort in was now a faceless stranger turning its back on me, uncaring that my heart was breaking.
I set Olivia gently down in her bed and went out. Outside the living room window, rain was still falling in sheets and Darlene was out in it.
Her heart was broken too, and I’d broken it. Shattered it into tiny pieces when I’d taken Olivia out of her arms.
“Fucking asshole,” I muttered, but my voice cracked at the end, my throat thick.
I’d been holding on to anger at the revelation of her past; using it to keep the pain at bay, but it hit me hard like a heavy fist to the chest. Darlene wasn’t why I was going to lose Olivia, but—Jesus Christ—my life was infused with addictions. My mother, Molly, and now Darlene? Was I destined to lose her too?
The fear, anger, confusion all swirled in me like a tornado, and at its center, in the calm eye, was what I felt for her.
“What the fuck do I do now?”
I sank into the chair at my desk and pulled out my phone for the hundredth time. No messages or texts, but why would there be?
“There won’t be. Because I broke her heart,” I muttered and felt each syllable stab me.
I typed a text.
Tell me you’re okay.
I backspaced it away. She didn’t owe it to me to make me feel better.
Are you okay?
I deleted that too. Of course she wasn’t okay. I’d seen to that.
I’m sorry.
My thumb hovered over the send button but I was too chickenshit to push it. And too ashamed.
Another voice whispered in my ear, like the proverbial devil on my shoulder. What if she was doing hard stuff? What if she associated with felons or owed money? Maybe she moved clear across the country to escape bad people? You want that kind of stuff around Olivia?
My excuses about what I didn’t know about Darlene fell apart under the sheer weight of all that I did know about her.
And what I felt about her.
I hit ‘send.’
I sat at the desk, listening to the rainfall and waiting to see if she’d read the message. Waiting for her to answer. Waiting for her to tell me that she was okay. The thought flitted into my head that she might be doing something to herself that she shouldn’t, but I swatted it dead.
You know nothing about her situation because you didn’t ask. You shut down on her.
That was one truth. The other was that the image of Darlene, standing in a doorway, being held by another man, was an added layer of misery. Another crack in my stony heart that was already on the verge of shattering, and the emotions that seeped out weren’t any I recognized.
“That’s because you’re a fucking asshole,” I said, dully.
I tossed the phone on the desk and rubbed my face with both hands. The clock ticked the hours away. Olivia woke up from her nap. I fed her, played with her, read to her, cherishing each second with her and trying not to imagine the internal countdown in which she’d be taken from me.
Every other moment, I felt something different; the mind-numbing pain that I’d already lost her, followed by the red-hot anger that I’d fight for her until I didn’t have a breath left in my body.
And when I put her down for bed that night, I was wrung out, and my anguish turned back to Darlene.
“Jesus Christ,” I muttered, staring at my haggard reflection in the mirror after I changed into sleep clothes and brushed my teeth. “You’re a fucking mess. Pull your shit together, Haas.”
I made a pathetic attempt to study for the bar, and gave up after a minute. What was the fucking point?
I sat and stared at nothing. I was so exhausted I could hardly move, but my phone was still silent. My agonized mind wanted to know which would come home first: the blue and red silent sirens? Or Darlene, safe and well?
The rain kept falling but the wind quieted enough for me to hear the door shut below and footsteps on the stairs.
Panic and relief sent a jolt through my bones, and I bolted out of my chair for the front door. I threw it open just as Darlene went past.
“Darlene.”
She stopped and turned to me, and I hated myself even more for taking note of her eyes, that were clear and sharp. Rainwater dripped off the end of her nose, and her clothes clung to her lithe body as she looked at me, waiting.
“Come in,” I said. “Please.”
She shook her head, her damp hair falling over her face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Please, come in. Please,” I said again, and the word was the start to every thought in my head.
Please don’t hate me.
Please forgive me.
Please.
“Please,” I said. “Stay. Talk to me.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” she said. “I’m cold and tired and it’s been a really long day. For both of us. I’m going to take a hot bath and get some sleep.” Her smile was gentle, sad. “You should try to, too.”
“Darlene,” I said, my voice thick and frayed at the ends. “It’s the paternity test that’s going to ruin me. Not you. I just…My mother…Molly. I don’t know what to do. Or what to think.”
“I know,” she said. “But the idea that I could, in some way, jeopardize your situation with Livvie makes me sick inside, and it was stupid to try to hide the truth. There is no hiding it. Not from you, the court, or myself. It’s on my record.”
“In black and white,” I muttered.
She nodded. “I thought about going to a bar to get drunk or high tonight, because if people are going to look at me like a drug addict, I might as well act like one. But the truth is, people will always look at me like that, no matter if I’ve been clean for one year, or two, or ten. It’s a part of my past and a part of who I am. Sliding backwards because I got hurt doesn’t solve anything. But being proud of what I’ve accomplished does.”
Tears filled her eyes, but there was a blue flame burning behind them I hadn’t seen before, and her tears didn’t douse it.
“I will always be an addict even if you put the word ‘recovering’ in front of it. I will always have to work ten times as hard to be trusted, to be trustworthy but that’s the price I have to pay for my mistakes.”
I clenched my teeth; tossed on a sea of emotions I had no idea how to navigate.
“I’m sorry I took Olivia away from you,” I said. “That was…a shitty, shitty thing to do.”
Darlene leaned against the doorframe. “I get it. I really do,” she said and even then, shivering with cold, she found a smile for me. “I totally understand, and it totally sucks. It’s amazing how two opposite things can be completely true at the same time, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “Or what to feel. I don’t feel…anything. To keep myself safe. And when I saw you with Max…”
She drew her old man’s sweater, damp with rain, around her shoulders.
“He’s my friend. My best friend. And I’m sorry he showed up at your apartment. He jumped on a plane tonight to Seattle, which is too bad because everything I told you is what I said at my NA meeting tonight. I think he would’ve been happy to hear it, and know that I’m going to be okay. Because I am. I’m going to be okay for me.”
Darlene reached out and cupped my cheek in her hand. “If there is anything you need, tell me. I don’t know what I can do, but I’m here.”
I couldn’t speak; I only nodded, and it sent a tear sliding down my cheek, to her hand.
“See?” she said with a quavering smile. “You feel so much, Sawyer. So much.” She wiped the tear into her palm. “I’m going to keep this,” she said, then turned and walked away.