Garrett
Present
Villanova, Pennsylvania
Age 26
I PULL INTO MY LONG DRIVEWAY and watch through the rearview mirror as the privacy gate closes behind me. I’m trapped in a cage now, and I’m dreading what’s inside waiting for me.
I press the button above me and the garage opens slowly. I pass Peggy’s parked car as I maneuver my way next to the Land Cruiser. Bile rises in my throat and I slowly open the door.
What am I doing?
Three days ago, Peggy talked me into taking in a sick baby. My sick baby. I’ve regretted even giving her the power to force that decision on me. How did I let this happen?
Before I can turn and flee, the door between the garage and the house opens and Peggy emerges.
“We picked up Kai a few hours ago, and Sam is getting him settled. I wanted to talk to you before you came inside, so you know exactly what to expect.” Her worried expression tells me I shouldn’t have allowed this to transpire.
I open my mouth to tell her to get them out of my house, but she ignores my movement and speaks again.
“Kai is sick. You already know this. He has Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome.”
“I know,” I state.
“He cries. A lot. And his cries aren’t normal baby cries. They are high-pitched and will cut right through to your heart.”
I don’t know what she thinks she’s preparing me for, but I turn back to my car and unlock it.
“Garrett! Where do you think you’re going?” Her tone reminds me of my mother and I stop in my tracks. She grabs my arm, turning me around and leads me to the door of the house. She stops just before we enter.
“Sam has calmed him down, and he’s sleeping for now. I just wanted to warn you in case he wakes up. I don’t want you to be alarmed.”
“Peggy, this whole situation is fucked up.” I walk past her into the house, hoping I’m walking out of a bad dream.
The house is so quiet you can hear a pin drop. I walk through the kitchen looking for Peggy’s niece. The counters are filled with bags from the pharmacy and Babies R Us. Open boxes line the floor and baby things are everywhere. Swings and diapers and blankets. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Peggy quickly places a cold bottle of water in my hand and says quietly, “Drink.”
“Whiskey,” I say, and my voice is hoarse. My lips feel like they’re cracking, and all I can think about is the double barrel whiskey that’s in the liquor cabinet. I place the bottle of water on the counter and keep walking into the den. The cabinet is on the far end of the room, and I need to get there now. I reach for the door and it won’t open. I tug again and it’s jammed.
“Safety locks.” Peggy’s voice startles me. She walks past me and pulls something out of her pocket and swipes it along the door. I hear a click as the cabinet lock disengages and she hands me what appears to be a magnet.
“What the hell?” I say as she pours me two fingers of whiskey.
“Drink.”
I swig it back and pass the glass back to her, indicating that I want more. She shakes her head and closes the cabinet.
“Are you relaxed yet?” she asks.
“No, and I don’t see myself getting there anytime soon.”
“Stop being so damn selfish and get yourself together,” Peggy snaps at me and I stiffen.
The past three days have been a whirlwind. After we agreed to take Kai in, I flew to Charlotte so I could explain what was going on to my parents. I didn’t want them to hear about this from the tabloids. Needless to say, my mother was shocked. Bill told me that he would help in any way that he could. They had already seen the news story about the ‘groupie’ dying from a drug overdose on our tour bus. Now they know the true story and not what the media is spreading. My return flight landed just under an hour ago, and I don’t even recognize the home I left yesterday. Peggy has completely transformed my bachelor pad into a nursery. I feel sick.
She turns me around, and we head toward the back set of stairs that leads to the guest rooms. I hear soft music coming from the room farthest down the hall. It sounds so familiar, but it’s an instrumental lullaby.
“Epic Fail Rock-a-Bye-Baby,” Peggy whispers, and I stop in my tracks.
“What?”
“I wanted Kai to hear his father’s music, but he isn’t ready for rock and roll just yet, so I got him the softer, lullaby versions of your songs.”
What the fuck?
I shake my head and look at her. “Is there anything else that you need to tell me?”
The soft pings of music I hear through the door are a complete bastardization of one of our chart-topping singles. It makes me want to vomit.
She opens the door slowly, and the first thing I see is a crib. The blinds are drawn in the room, but the ceiling is glowing with hundreds of stars and constellations. There’s a person in the rocking chair at the far end of the room, holding a baby close to her chest. I only see her silhouette, outlined by long, flowing curls.
Peggy approaches her and whispers something inaudible in her ear. She nods and stands up slowly. Peggy takes her seat and they expertly transfer the baby from her arms to Peggy’s.
She walks toward me, and her wide, blue eyes are the first thing I see. They pierce into my own and I feel a rush through my body. I don’t move as she approaches me, and she suddenly looks confused. Her lips move, but I can’t hear what she’s saying.
“What?” I ask, too loudly, and I’m immediately shushed by Peggy.
“Hallway,” she says and walks past me.
I follow her and stop outside the door. She brushes against me as she reaches to pull the door closed. Her shirt shifts and I see cleavage. My pants stir and my fight-or-flight response takes over. She’s stunning. Tall. Athletic. Fucking hot. She can’t be the baby nurse.
She can’t be the fucking baby nurse.
“Hi,” she says in barely a whisper. “I’m Sam.”
She extends her right hand and I grab hold of it. Her cool, soft hand closes slowly around mine and she pumps up and down.
“Hi, Sam. I’m Garrett.” I’m lost in her eyes and I can’t stop shaking her hand. She blinks hard as if trying to snap me out of my temporary paralysis, and she snatches her hand away from mine.
“Let’s go someplace where we can talk,” she says as she brushes past me again. Her vanilla scent leads me. The only thing I want to do right now is pull her into my bedroom down the hall. Completely inappropriate response.
She walks past my room and down the front staircase. I suddenly forget about Peggy and the baby, and I pick up speed, bounding down the stairs two at a time.
She disappears into the library where I join her. She closes the door behind me and sits on the large leather sectional.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions for me. Now is your chance before things get really—hectic,” she says and crosses her legs. I notice she’s wearing tight yoga pants that are rolled at her hips. She has tiger-striped ankle socks on and a loose fitting V-neck tee-shirt. Her brown hair is long, past her shoulders and curly. Very curly.
“What?” I ask.
A look of disgust snaps me out of the fantasy I’m about to let play out in my mind.
“Questions. Now’s the time to ask because he won’t be asleep much longer.”
“I don’t think I have any,” I say and smile.
“Okay, so I guess I’ll start.”
She shifts on the couch, moving her legs so she’s sitting cross-legged.
“I’m Samantha Weston, Peggy’s niece. I’m a neonatal intensive care nurse, and I’ve seen all kinds of sick babies in my career. I’ve only been a practicing nurse for about two and a half years, but I’ve gained a ton of experience in that time. Your son, Kai, has Neonatal Abstinence Syndrome. As you know, he was exposed to a variety of illegal drugs and narcotic substances. The withdrawal from these drugs is causing him great distress.” She looks into my eyes and nods.
I nod back, letting her know that I’m listening. Reality is setting in as this gorgeous woman tells me all about my very sick son. I hear all of the words she’s saying very crisply, but her lips seem to move in slow motion. A weight begins to pull in my chest, and I lean back in the wing chair that I’m currently sitting in.
“Stop,” I say, and she looks confused. “I don’t think I can hear any more of this.”
“Mr. Armstrong, you have to hear it. Because you’re about to live it.”
She tells me all about his feeding and other issues that he has. His high-pitched crying is mentioned again, and I don’t understand why this is so important that both she and Peggy have mentioned it multiple times. She explains that the best care for him right now is tactile care. We need to be very hands-on and let him know that someone is always close. Swaddling him tight is also important so he feels safe. What’s swaddling?
When Peggy talked me into this situation, I didn’t expect that I’d need to be hands-on. Why did I hire Sam to begin with if she’s going to expect me to be involved?
“I think there’s some mistake,” I interrupt her again, and she shoots me the same disgusted look she did just minutes ago.
“I’m sorry?” she asks.
“When I agreed to do this, Peggy assured me that you would have everything under control. I wasn’t expecting to be too involved.”
I’m glad I got that off my chest. I hope this clears the air.
She stands up and walks toward me. “Are you kidding me?” She scowls and now I can see the resemblance to Peggy. She smirks and says, “Let me get this straight. You thought that Peggy agreed to let me do everything while you ignored the fact that you have a son upstairs who needs his father?” Her arms are folded across her chest.
“Well, the way you say it makes me sound like an ass. But yeah, I didn’t expect that I’d be involved in Kai’s rehabilitation. I just found out about him the other day. I’m no more of a father than you are a mother.”
Wow, now I sound like a complete asshole.
Her face contorts and her cheeks turn bright red. “Mr. Armstrong, I swear to God, you’re lucky that I love my aunt more than life itself because—”
A piercing scream comes from behind her, and she turns quickly to grab what looks like a walkie-talkie from the couch. She turns the volume down, but the screams are high-pitched, sharp and shallow.
“What the hell is that?” I ask as dread sets in.
“That’s your son, Kai.” She opens the library door and darts up the stairs.
I remain glued to my seat as his cries travel down the stairs and pierce through my heart. He sounds like he’s in so much pain, like he’s being stabbed over and over again. It’s the most awful sound I’ve ever heard. Worse than hearing my own mother cry.
My son is crying and I’m powerless.