ONE YEAR LATER

“Go to sleep, baby,” I whispered, pulling him close to my chest. The shelter was quiet tonight, the usual flurry of footsteps and voices having died down a while ago.

I ran my hand over Alex’s head, his hair so soft, already as curly and bright red as mine was.

And just like me as a child, he had a hard time getting to sleep.

I couldn’t blame him. He was a bundle of energy and ever since he began walking two months ago, he was constantly on the move. It was absolutely adorable and I was so proud of him, but it was exhausting.

It was the good kind of exhausting, though, you know?

The kind where your head hits the pillow and you can sleep soundly, knowing you did something productive that day. The kind where you woke up still exhausted, but you couldn’t help but smile while you did it all over again the next day.

Having Alex changed my life.

Everything was different now.

Life was hard, but it was good. I didn’t care that we lived in the shelter. I didn’t care that I wasn’t making a lot of money.

For now, we had enough.

Slowly, I’ve started to even allow myself to dream a little. About a time when we might be able to get our own place. Or, have a little extra money to go somewhere fun, something different than just going to the park or walking along the river. Or, maybe even going to school.

Someday, I kept telling myself.

But I didn’t dwell on it, not too much. I didn’t let it get me down that we weren’t there yet.

I did my best to live with gratitude every day, never letting the memories of the past get too far away. Remembering how it used to be was the thing that kept me going. And the further away I got from all of that, as the days, weeks, and months passed, the more valuable those memories became.

I didn’t want to forget.

My will to never go back to that life remained strong when the memories were strong. Anytime I found myself slipping, those moments late at night, when Alex was sleeping next to me, and I could hear the footsteps of others all around us in the other rooms, and I longed for the luxury of privacy or peace — I remembered the horror of my life before.

I closed my eyes and I relived those moments, just to be close to them again. Call it self-torture, self-sabotage, but for me, it was cathartic. If I could keep moving through those memories, then that meant I wasn’t there anymore. They were merely memories, and if I kept them close to my chest, left the box open in my head so I could get to them easily, then I could remember how much it hurt.

How much it hurt to be someone’s property.

How much it hurt to allow someone to disrespect me like that.

I was terrified if I got too far away from that knowledge, I’d end up back there again. Maybe not with Ruby, maybe not with him, but perhaps with someone else. A lover, an employer, a friend.

That’s what I’d thought I’d had before, and I’d been so wrong.

Instead, now that I looked back on it, I saw it all clear as day.

Ruby never cared about me.

Neither did he.

I was merely a business transaction and once I’d ruined the product, I was discarded.

I’d vowed to never put myself in that situation again and remembering helped me stay on point. Remembering was the fuel that kept me going in the opposite direction.

I kept my guard up, only allowing myself to be friendly with the other women at the shelter, and never opening up to anyone else, outside of my therapist. I craved the safety and civility of open, public spaces, and I thrived on all the rules at the shelter.

I craved stability. And for the most part, I’d found it. Thanks in no small part to Jason, the doctor in the ER who’d delivered Alex.

I couldn’t forget him, not that I wanted to, of course. He’d been the first person to be kind to me since I was a little girl, followed by a string of nurses and social workers and shelter workers that he’d introduced me to at the hospital.

Not long after Ruby showed up, scaring me half to death that she was going to finish the job, a nice woman named Elaine stopped by my room. At first, I couldn’t open up to her, but she was persistent and kind and despite my initial instincts, I trusted her.

I told her everything.

She helped us move to a different part of the hospital while I recovered enough to leave, registering me under an alias in case Ruby came back. I don’t know if she did or not, but if she did, I didn’t see her. Elaine kept the cops at bay and once I was sure I didn’t want to press charges, she got them off my back for good. Once I was well enough to get back on my feet, Elaine helped me find a shelter to go to right away, and the women at the shelter turned out to be absolute angels.

They welcomed us into their safe house with open arms, volunteering their time and energy to counsel me and help me figure out what life with an infant looked like. They fed us, gave us our own room, with bedding and new clothes for both of us. They gave me diapers for Alex and helped me navigate breast feeding and midnight teething sessions.

They taught me how to be a mother.

They taught me that life didn’t have to be a business transaction. That it could be joyful, full of love and yes, even happiness.

Alex helped with that, too. What a joy he was, bouncing with life, curious and bright, and most important of all — he loved me.

His face lit up every time he saw me and before he started walking, he insisted I hold him every second we were together. Now, he insisted I run around behind him.

Lacking in work skills, the shelter had given me a job. I helped in the day care on the bottom floor, watching the kids of the women who lived there that had jobs to go to.

I absolutely loved it. The kids I helped look after were all different ages and I relished being around them. They were so innocent and wide-eyed, just children being children. All my life, I’d longed to feel that, after having my childhood ripped away so early.

I found myself healing in that little basement room, the endless chatter of little voices echoing off the walls, the smell of juice and diapers and crayons filling the air.

As I watched over them, I watched over myself, too.

As I learned how to take care of them, I learned how to take care of myself.

As I learned to love them, I learned to love myself.

One year after escaping from thirteen years of personal hell, I couldn’t believe how far I’d come. I didn’t shrink away when someone talked to me. I didn’t go to sleep at night shaking with fear of what might happen the next day.

I didn’t cry myself to sleep at night anymore.

Looking down at Alex, I knew I owed it all to him.

Leaning down, I pressed my lips to his forehead, inhaling the sweet, clean scent of him and silently relishing in gratitude for him. My lips lingered but something was wrong.

He was too hot.

I pressed the back of my hand against his forehead and frowned.

“Oh, no,” I murmured, shaking my head.

Getting out of bed, I carried him out of our room and down the hall to the bathroom. Searching through the cabinets, I found the thermometer and checked his temperature, praying he wasn’t getting sick.

He’d been fine earlier in the day, if a little fussier than usual. But now, he was burning up. I checked the thermometer and just as I’d suspected, he had a fever. A bad one - a hundred and two.

“Oh, baby,” I said, looking him over. He looked tired, his eyes a little dull. I knew from what I’d learned at the daycare that you should call the doctor at a hundred and three. But it was the middle of the night and Alex’s pediatrician was closed.

I tried to comfort myself with the fact that we weren’t there yet, but one degree away was a little too close for comfort. I grabbed my phone and called a cab, then quickly got dressed in a t-shirt and jeans before dressing Alex and grabbing a blanket and his diaper bag.

I walked out of our room and down the hall to find Beatrice, the shelter’s night counselor.

“Alex has a fever, Bea,” I said, my voice laced with worry.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Poor baby.”

“I don’t want to risk it, I’m going to take him to the hospital. I called a cab.”

“Good idea,” she nodded. “Are you okay going alone? I could get one of the other mom’s to go with you.”

“No, let them sleep. I can handle it,” I said.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will, Bea. Thank you,” I said, rushing outside. The cab was already waiting and I jumped in the back with Alex bundled tightly in my arms.

“Where to, ma’am?”

“I need to go to the hospital,” I replied, my heart pounding.

“Got it,” he said. “Providence is just up the road.”

“Thank you,” I said, my heart filled with worry. I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to Alex. Suddenly, my head filled with memories of his birth, of waking up and finding out I had a son. I’d been so scared and yet filled with an enormous sense of courage at the same time. I’d never gotten through it all without the help of Jason and his wonderful team.

“Actually, sir,” I said, my lips forming the words before I could fully think them. “Take us to OHSU, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “Is your baby okay?”

“He’s going to be just fine,” I replied, hoping like hell I was right.