Chapter Eight
Shelby
"What is it, baby?" I asked, unbuttoning Damien's onesie. He hadn't stopped crying all morning. I took it off of him halfway so I could get the thermometer in his armpit. He cried, flailing his arms and legs, making what should have been an easy task, a lot more difficult. "Please, Damien, work with me," I said desperately. Ninety-seven-point-eight. Normal. He wasn't feverish, so I could cross that off the list. Was he sick? Was he colicky? I had no idea and even less time to try figure out. I got him back into his clothes and lifted him into my arms, trying to shush him. It had started a few hours after I had put him down the night before. He had woken up at ten, and it hadn't been till three when I could get him down again. That had lasted exactly two hours because at five, he had started up again.
I bounced him up and down gently, trying to calm him as I stuffed my purse with one hand. He hadn't had a good night's rest so that would be making him upset, but besides that, I was out of ideas. He had been doing so well with his sleep in the past few weeks, only needing to wake up for feeding once or twice. He didn't seem unwell, so what was it? I walked into the kitchen, searching the drawers for his binky. I hated using it, but sometimes, it was the only thing that did the trick. We needed to leave, and I couldn't cuddle him while I drove. I checked the time. Work was only about fifteen minutes away, but I still didn't want to be late. I finally found it, running it under warm water in the sink before putting it in Damien's mouth.
He quieted down for the first time that whole morning. I sighed, relieved, hurrying back into the living room. I grabbed my purse and haphazardly checked whether I had everything. I hadn't put any makeup on, and my hair had gotten wet in the shower. I hadn't had time to blow-dry or straighten it, but we'd just have to make the rat's nest look work today. I hurried the two of us out the door, down to the car. I strapped Damien into his seat in record time, and we were on our way.
We hadn't had a morning this stressful since I had brought him home. As a new mom, I had no real-life reference for anything that I was going through. The internet was full of mommy forums and blogs and my own mother always picked the phone up when I called her, but there were times I felt like I was fucking up. His crying was one of the only ways he could communicate with me. I felt like a failure when he cried and I couldn't soothe him. I made the trip to the office as fast as I could while still being safe. In my hurry to get Damien out of his car seat, he lost his binky and started crying again.
There was nothing more humbling than being a new parent. I shushed him gently, picking him up and sticking his binky back in his mouth. Pretty sure, I'd start sobbing too, I thought. I rushed into the building and found myself apologizing to Karla as I handed him off to her. She just smiled sympathetically and took him, saying she'd let me know if he needed me throughout the day. My baby was my world. I loved him deeper and stronger than I had ever loved anything or anyone. I felt guilty at the slight relief I felt that Karla was going to watch him for a while. I felt guilty that I ever felt overwhelmed with him at all. It just got hard sometimes.
My mom had been a huge help when Damien had been born. She and my stepdad had come down from Napa where they lived, so I didn't have to go through the birth alone. Frank, my stepdad, only stayed a couple days because he had to go back to work, but my mother had stayed almost two weeks, helping me with Damien. She had given birth to and raised two kids so I had spent the time that she had been with me doing my best to learn everything I could while healing from the birth.
After that, I had been on my own. I could count the number of times that I had called Paula, my babysitter, to watch Damien on one hand. It wasn't about me anymore; it was about my baby who needed my attention and care. My mother told me whenever we talked these days that I had to remember to take time for myself, that sacrificing things for Damien didn't mean killing myself in the process. I still wasn't sure that I knew what she meant when she would say that to me.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened. A few people got off and on, normal for any morning that I came to work but a pain in the ass because I was late. I crossed my arms, waiting for it to fill impatiently.
"Shelby, hey," I heard someone say. Matt was an audio engineer; we were both heading to the newsroom floor.
"Hey," I said, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
"How's your little boy doing?" he asked.
"Fine," I replied shortly.
"How old is he now?" he asked. The door opened just in time. I mumbled the answer as I walked out ahead of him. It wasn't his fault; he had just caught me on a bad morning. I didn't really feel up to making small talk. I had been up most of the night with a cranky infant, and I hadn't had any coffee yet. I had barely gotten a good look in the mirror before I had gotten here but I knew I looked as bad as I felt.
I trudged silently to my desk and flopped into my seat. I ran my hands over my face. Twenty minutes: I would have given anything for just a twenty-minute nap before I had to start working. My job and my baby didn't care how much sleep I had had the night before. I booted up my work computer, running mentally through the morning's to do list. Emails sounded like the least daunting thing to start with in the state that I was in, after I got some coffee into my system.
Back at my desk with a steaming cup of coffee, I went methodically through my inbox. The coffee eventually undid what three hours of sleep the last night had done to my mood and focus. I got through my emails and opened another tab on my computer's browser.
"Jason Bowman," I said quietly as I typed his name into the search bar. He came up in conversation every other day. WRTC was our competition; we had to watch their broadcasts. Picture and story results popped up, a lot of the links already purple. There hadn't really been anything new about him in the last few days, just some of his broadcasts posted to his station’s YouTube channel. I had professional interest in Jason, but it ran a little deeper than that. We had a baby together. I had decided that Jason wasn't a person I wanted Damien to be exposed to, but I second guessed that decision every day. People could change, and I wanted to say that Jason could too. If he ever did, then maybe I'd change my mind.
I leaned back in my chair, running my fingers through my wild hair. I grabbed my purse and went to the bathroom. With the few minutes I had before I had to head into the studio, I managed to get my hair into a neat enough bun and drew on some eyeliner and put on some lipstick. The morning routine I had for Damien and I obviously would need some tweaking in case we had another bad night. But hey, look at that. I was still standing. Getting through the pregnancy and birth had taught me that I could be tougher than I thought. There would probably be more nights like the one we had had, and we'd get through them.
Coming out of the bathroom, I felt level for the first time that morning. I made a stop at my desk then made my way to the studio. I was heading towards the control room when I heard someone calling my name. It was Davis. I stopped as he came up to me.
"What happened? I was looking for you earlier," he said.
"Sorry, we must have missed each other," I said. It wasn't hard pretending with him. There was a chance that people in the office knew that we saw each other sometimes, but it wasn't hard to turn it off when we were at work. I was attracted to him, but not the ridiculous lust that had people ripping each other's clothes off whenever they were alone. He ultimately was safe, and I liked that. At this point in my life, it was what I needed.
"I wanted to talk to you about something. I got an email from your old friend."
"My friend?" I asked, raising my brows.
"Jason? Jason Bowman. I just saw it this morning, out of nowhere." Working in the same field, he obviously knew about Jason. The station I had worked for in New York was in something of a friendly rivalry with this one; the same went for the pair of them. Two attractive, eligible bachelor news anchors at one time was apparently too many. They were about the same age and had gone to the same college; they knew each other. Davis also knew that I had worked directly under Jason. I had strategically left the part about sleeping with him and having his baby out.
"That's weird."
"Not as weird as what he said."
"What was that?"
"He said he wanted to hit me up because he was thinking about making plans to come to L.A. for a while."
"What?" I choked. I felt the color drain from my face.
"Yeah. He apparently wants to catch up, see the studio; I couldn't believe it either."
"Do you think he's actually going to show up?"
"I don't know. He said his plans weren't set in stone, but the email was so out of the blue, he had to have sent it for a reason."
"What did you tell him back?" I asked, hoping he didn't read into the real reason for my curiosity.
"I told him he'd know where to find me if he ended up coming."
"You're friends now?"
"You know what they say about keeping your enemies close," he said lightly, shrugging. It wasn't that deep. They had independently had enormous success. Their rivalry was kind of an industry joke; neither of them was actually out for the other's spot. What I was still having trouble figuring out was why Jason would want to come to Los Angeles. Seeing Davis and the studio didn't seem like good enough reasons to come all the way here. There was work, I suppose. Maybe he wanted to do some stories from here, or research.
"Have fun then," I said with a shrug. Davis scoffed.
"I can't imagine what he wants... unless his plan is to somehow convince you to go back to New York with him," he said, laughing. I laughed too, hollowly.
"It wouldn't work," I said honestly.
"I'm holding you to that," he said, smiling. He had to leave then, and I let him. That had been true; there was nothing Jason Bowman could say that would make me leave my job here. I was done with New York's bipolar weather for good. That and him. My mind raced. What if he... no, that wasn't it. How big did my head have to be to think that he was coming here because of me? We hadn't talked in a year; he probably hadn't even thought of me since the last night we had seen each other. The night when Damien had been conceived.
Working in the same industry, the chances that we would cross paths weren't high, but they were always there. I had known that physical distance wasn't that hard to overcome if you had to do it. Davis' news had shaken me though. I realized right then that if I saw Jason Bowman again, I wouldn't know what the fuck to say. One thing came to mind: that little thing where I had gotten pregnant that night we had had sex, and he had a son that he had never met, but I couldn't tell him that. If I saw him again, I would probably have to, but I hoped Davis was wrong. I wasn't ready to say anything to Jason. I had changed a lot since we had last seen each other, and maybe he had too, but nobody knew who Damien's father was but me and my mother. Letting something like that out would change everything, and I wasn't ready for another upheaval.
He probably wouldn't show up, I thought to myself. Even if he did, what would a visit from him have to do with me? It was Davis he was interested in. The thought haunted me throughout the day till the rhythm of work pushed it out for more important things. How much was he worrying about me? What did I have to gain wasting time thinking about everything that probably wasn't going to happen? By the time my day was up, the thoughts had completely left my mind. The ride home with Damien ended up going smoothly. At work, I had gone down to the daycare a few times to see him. Whatever had been bothering him seemed to have passed. He was his content, quiet self when we got home.
After nursing him, I cuddled him on the couch, watching a Christmas movie. I still had to get used to the idea of a sixty-degree Christmas with palm trees, but I had done what I could to get into the spirit. It wasn't cold enough for hot cocoa, but watching movies had always been a tradition of mine, one I wanted to share with Damien. I had put up a tree several days ago and wrapped presents for him. Presents he couldn't open himself and a tree he didn't care about, but that wasn't the point. I wanted to give him everything, as full a life as it would be possible for him to have. It wasn't just for him, it was for me too. There were times motherhood was hard and unforgiving, but then there were those moments of calm where I could enjoy my baby and for however long, not be worried or stressed, just happy.
Optimistic that we wouldn't have a repeat of last night after his turnaround, I played soft music while giving him a bath and put him to sleep. I lived in a two-bedroom apartment, and he had moved into his nursery just a few weeks before. Since he didn't need me as much during the night, he didn't need to sleep in the bassinet in my room. Not to mention the fact that he had outgrown it anyway and needed his crib. The owl-shaped sound machine on his dresser doubled as a nightlight. I would turn the soft white noise off when I came to check on him before I went to sleep. I touched his pillowy cheek softly before walking out of his room to my own.
Even when it was hard, and I didn't know how I could wake up and do it again the next day, I was happy. I was fulfilled in ways I hadn't realized I had wanted to be fulfilled. My beautiful baby who had entered my life against the odds was healthy, I worked in a stable job that supported my parenthood, and I felt like I was doing pretty well with the whole thing. I ate a quick dinner and expressed some milk before heading into my bathroom for a shower.
I washed and blow-dried my hair so we didn't have another disaster the next morning. Going to check on Damien, I watched him sleeping for a few moments, wishing I could be as blissful as he was. I wanted to protect him as much as I could. Our life wasn't perfect, but I was willing to do anything to make sure he was happy, supported, and protected.
But what about Jason, I thought unwillingly.
I didn't want to think about it but alone at night on my way to bed with nothing to divert my attention, the thoughts came relentlessly. If he showed up, there was a chance we would end up seeing each other. If we did and that led to him finding out about Damien, I wouldn't be able to protect him anymore. Would he even want a part in Damien's life? I didn't know whether it would be worse if he did or didn't. Whatever happened, everything would change. On the one hand, Damien could have two addresses, two last names, two parents who didn't love each other. On the other, he could have to live knowing that his father wasn't interested in playing that role in his life. I couldn't guarantee anything for Damien but my own unconditional love. Our little life would change eventually, but I had a feeling that any change that came in the form of Jason Bowman wouldn't be good.
My nerves fought with my exhaustion till the fatigue finally won out. I had gotten this far already. Whatever happened tomorrow, I was sure that I'd be able to handle it.