My eyes blink open, once, twice … and on the third, I can keep them open long enough to remember where I am.
Beeping. The smell of antiseptic.
Hospital.
And as if the realization holds the trigger, my ribs scream out in pain. My nose and jaw throb and my casted arm pangs. But my head … my head hurts the most. As if someone stomped on it repetitively.
And I’m thinking maybe they did.
I’m not a religious person, much to my parents’ dismay growing up, but I thank God or whoever is out there for the pitiful mercy of sending my world dark after the first or maybe second blow to the head.
My free hand reaches down to my stomach, panic gripping hold of my throat and causing tears to spring to my eyes. I remember them saying I was lucky to be alive. That the bleeding on my brain had now stopped, but I’d need to be monitored. Yet right now, all I can think about is this gripping fear. This overwhelming sense of doom that maybe they’ll be back to finish what they started.
Voices drift in through the crack of the almost closed door to my room. Voices I haven’t heard in a really long time. Which somehow only makes me feel worse.
“She got beat half to death by some gang of thugs! No, this shit has been wrong from the start. She’s not bringing that kind of trouble to our house.”
“Martin …”
“You think they’ll stop here? No. Those kind of delinquents won’t stop until they get what they think is rightfully theirs. It’s not happening. She’s not dragging them to our door. No fucking way. She wouldn’t even talk to the detective who came by.”
“But the baby …”
“No, Elodie, don’t even try to test me on this. The answer is no.”
They fade away after that, and my hand stays pressed against my stomach. I’m both shocked and so damn relieved that this little life has somehow managed to survive the beating my body took.
My nose burns, which makes the pain flare, and I close my eyes against the onslaught of tears.
They reopen sometime later when someone clears their throat from beside my bed.
I startle, wincing as the pain wracks my body from the tiny movement.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” a man with blue eyes, blond hair, and a mischievous smile says from the chair by the wall.
“Who …” My dry throat makes it hard to get the words out. I clear it and try again. “Who are you?”
He continues to smile, his elbow leaning on the armrest of the chair and his square chin resting on his fist. “Let’s just call me your fairy godmother.”
My brows rise, and he chuckles quietly. “Well, one of them anyway.”
I shoot up in bed, covered in sweat with my heart’s violent pounding beat reverberating through every limb of my body. Pushing my hair back from my face, I try to take deep, measured lungfuls of air while counting backward from ten. When that doesn’t work, I try counting back from thirty.
Phantom pain takes hold of my arm, my ribs, my nose, my head, and my heart.
I check the time, realizing it’s only five thirty, and get up to check on Archie.
He’s sound asleep, his thumb resting on his bottom lip and his chubby limbs sprawled out in his crib. I move the blankets over his little body and go take a shower, hoping the hot water will help bring me further into the present.
It’s been a while since I’ve had nightmares. They stopped becoming so frequent after I started seeing Dr. Hayes before Archie was born.
I don’t know if that’s what I’d call a nightmare. Perhaps it’s only my conscience screaming at me.
It felt like a bit of both.
After getting dressed, I make some coffee, peeking out the sliding glass door while I drink it and watch the sun’s final ascent into the sky.
Archie and I spend the morning watching cartoons and lazing around on the couch. Well, he plays; I just stare at the TV like it’s got all the answers I’m seeking while feeling strangely hollow. That dream is not only an ugly reminder of what Ryan’s awesome friends did to me, but it’s a glaring reminder that I haven’t seen my parents since.
Picking up my phone, I hesitate for a good five minutes before deciding to just do it.
“Hello? Ma chérie?” My mom sounds surprised and a little panicked.
“Hi.” I tuck my legs under my butt. “Um, how are you?”
She exhales loudly in my ear, and it sounds like she’s crying when she replies, “Good now. Much better when I get to hear your voice.”
A small smile curves my lips at her slightly broken English.
“And how are you? How is the baby?”
“Archie is good.” I watch him roll over on the rug, throwing Duplo pieces into the air and laughing as they fall on top of him.
“Archie.” Her smile is evident in her voice. “Goodness, it’s been so long. I actually meant to call you soon. I have news.”
“Elodie, who’re you speaking to?” my father asks in the background.
Her breath hitches, and my eyes close.
“I need to go, but I will call you soon. I promise. Take care, my darling.”
My eyes reopen when she hangs up. Blowing out a breath, I drop my phone, frowning as I wonder what kind of news she could have and if my father will always stop her from trying to have any kind of relationship outside their own.
“Good morning, handsome devil,” Warren says, walking inside and dropping down onto the rug beside Archie.
Archie gives him a block. “Da!”
He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He calls lots of things da.
“Why, thank you,” Warren says, stacking it on top of another one. “So you were okay driving home the other day?” He had called me when Felix pulled into the driveway, making sure I was okay. But it’s a lot easier to lie over the phone. He and Jake stayed in the city for the afternoon and had an early dinner. Warren’s been locked in his office catching up on work ever since.
I try to quickly prepare a lie, only to be stopped with a knowing look. “Shit, bunches.” He shakes his head. “Christ, what happened?”
I tell him everything, and he curses again quietly under his breath before staring at me with sorrow filled eyes. “I’m so sorry. We thought …” His head shakes again. “You’ve been doing so well for so long now. You should’ve told me; I would’ve—”
“No.” I stop him there. “I thought the same thing. I think …” I fiddle with the couch cushion on my lap, staring down at it before returning my gaze to Warren and shrugging. “Maybe recent events are just shaking me up a little.”
He crosses his legs and puts Archie in his lap. “Do you think maybe you should give Dr. Hayes a call? Might be a good idea to resume sessions for a while longer.” He holds up a hand when I go to protest. “Just until you get used to Felix being back and everything that entails. None of us really knew what would happen, but it’s clear the situation could take some time to settle down. Your feelings included.”
He’s right. But I’ve come so far, and I know I’m not in danger of going back to where I was, not entirely, but the fear is still there. The problem is, I think it’s never really going to leave. I just need to continue living regardless.
“We’ll see what happens, I guess. He was … different after he drove us home.”
Warren’s brows shoot up as Archie climbs off his lap and goes to his basket of cars. “How so?”
“I don’t know, just quieter. Not so—”
“Rah, rah, I’m angry with the world?” Warren suggests.
Laughing, I nod. “Well, yeah. Not as much of that.”
Warren hums. “Did you guys talk at all?”
“Uh, not exactly. He just spent some time with Archie then left.”
My phone rings next to me, and Warren says he needs to get some work done and will check in with me later before leaving.
The unknown number has me wary, but I answer it with a hesitant hello anyway.
“Hey.”
His voice. Even after so long, it still has the same effect on me. “Hi,” I say again, and immediately want to slap myself in the forehead.
“I’ve gotta leave work early this afternoon. Got a meeting with my parole officer. But I thought I’d come out there to see Archie maybe.”
He seems different all right. Like he’s not sure if I’ll let him, which is ridiculous.
“Of course, we’ll be here.”
His exhale is loud, and I can just picture his big shoulders dropping with it. “Okay. I’ll probably be there around four.”
“Okay.” It’s all I can come up with. I chew my lip, trying to find something else to say, but even with all the questions and thoughts rolling around in my head, I can’t settle on one.
“Do, ah, do you guys need anything? Diapers, milk? Um, maybe …”
A small laugh escapes me before I can stop it. “We’re okay.”
“Mags.” He sighs. “Please, let me do something.”
My eyes shut at hearing that nickname, but I refuse to let my heart cling to it. “We could always use more diapers. He’s in size three.”
“Okay, sure. Any specific brand?”
It sounds like he’s getting up to write it down, which makes me want to laugh again. “No, any will do.”
“Got it. I’ll see you later then.”
“Yeah.” I open my eyes. “Bye.”
I hang up and wonder what it is that has him letting go of some of that anger. If it’s got to do with what happened a few days ago … well, I just hope he doesn’t start asking questions.
Because even if I could tell him, it’s too late now anyway.
There’s a fresh wound in my chest every time I think about what’s happened since he got out.
Even if I can understand, it doesn’t mean he hasn’t caused damage to something that was already fighting to heal itself.
Felix knocks on the door at exactly four that afternoon. Archie’s just woken up from his nap, so he’s a ball of excited energy that races to the sliding door.
Felix opens it when I walk over, smiling and dropping low to pick Archie up.
“Da!” he blurts, and I cringe when Felix freezes.
He looks at me. “He say that a lot?”
“Sometimes, yeah.”
He seems to understand what I’m not saying, and the two of them head outside to play. I watch for a little while, trying to ignore the way Felix’s jeans hang low, revealing his gray boxer briefs when he squats on the grass with Archie. Or the way the sun seems to reflect off the sharp lines of his face, his teeth, and that growing scruff that’s fast turning into a beard.
Damn it. My thighs squeeze together when old memories resurface. I head back inside and give them some privacy. The last thing I need to be doing right now is ogling him, especially when a switch has flicked for Felix and he seems to be handling this all a bit better.
An hour later, Archie starts crying, and I jump up from the couch. I try to slow my pace once I get outside, not wanting to seem like I don’t trust Felix, but I’m worried all the same.
“He’s okay, just whacked himself in the head with his truck.” Felix rubs Archie’s head and sets him back on the ground. Archie runs off as if nothing happened.
I offer a weak smile, turning to go back inside when he stops me. “Hey, if you want to watch him for a sec, I’ll go grab those diapers.”
He jogs out the side gate and returns a moment later with two huge boxes full of diapers.
“Want them in his room?”
“Yeah, thanks.” I grab Archie and show Felix inside.
He dumps them by the changing table and glances around, his lips parting when his gaze falls on the photos on Archie’s dresser.
He picks up one that Jake took not long after he was born, running his finger over the glass. “Shit,” he breathes the word out raggedly, as though it hurts. And it must. My own chest twinges when I think of all the things he’s missed.
“There’s more, if you want to see,” I offer quietly.
He shakes his head, sniffing and placing the photo frame back. His white shirt pulls tight over his chest and arms as he lets out a shaky exhale. “Thanks, but maybe next time.”
I nod, even though he’s not looking at me, understanding that it might be too much right now.
“Ma! Car!” Archie barrels into the room on wobbly legs, falling over on the carpet then getting right back up.
Felix laughs under his breath. “When did he learn how to walk?”
I take the car from Archie, spinning its wheels and bending down to give it back to him.
“He started almost two months ago.” I smile as Archie waddles off. “He’s determined, but I think it’ll still be a little while longer before he stops falling over so much.”
Felix lets out a small grunt, and I straighten, looking at him and finding a soft smile pulling at his lips as he stares out the door. He notices me watching and shifts. “I’d better go.”
“Right, sure.” I move out of the way for him to walk past.
He kisses Archie and hugs him tightly to his chest before heading for the door. “Can I come back on Saturday?”
Wringing my hands together, I watch as he digs his keys out from his pocket. “Of course.”
He hesitates at the door, then curses. “Forgot to give you this.” He retrieves a folded over envelope out of his back pocket and places it on the counter.
By the time I open it up to find all the money stashed inside and run outside to give it back to him, he’s already gone.