Beauty from Ashes

by Alana Terry

  And he kissed me again and stroked my forehead, and I don’t remember that he’d ever been that tender or loving with me since Natalie was born. Ripping up that confession was definitely the right call.

  “I’m sorry I was a jerk,” he said. “I thought you were mad about Charlene. You could have told me sooner that you wanted me to stay here.”

  I don’t know if it was the stress from not sleeping well or the postpartum hormones or how wretched I felt knowing that he had nothing to apologize for compared to what I’d done, but I felt myself getting ready to cry. “I just don’t want to be alone.” I know I wasn’t the most truthful of girlfriends, and I’m definitely not the most truthful of wives, but that may have been the most honest thing I’ve told Jake in my entire life.

  The tears were burning my cheeks by that point. Real ones. I’m ok at acting, but I can’t muster up tears on command. And Jake wiped every single one of them away.

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. I already texted Roberto and let him know.”

  I sat up in bed and hugged him and cried on his shoulder. He probably thought I was relieved and that’s why I was going at it. Really, I was crying because I knew that if I told him everything, there’s no way he’d stay with me, letting me sob into his chest, saying such nice things and trying to comfort and soothe me.

  He would never forgive me if he knew the truth.

  CHAPTER 35

  He proposed to me ten or fifteen minutes later. It wasn’t all that steamy or romantic, but I guess that’s not what either of us needed at the time. My tears had stopped, and we were just talking. I don’t even think we were cuddling or anything at that point. Jake’s got his faults, but he’s a really good listener. He’d have to be after growing up with someone like Patricia. Back when she was raising her twins like a boss, I’m sure Jake couldn’t get a word in edgewise against her. Come to think of it, he still can’t today.

  Anyway, that morning he wanted to know exactly what I was feeling. I swear, if that boy applied himself, he could become a stinking shrink or something.

  “Did you think I was walking out for good?” he asked. Because, of course, he assumed all those tears were about him.

  I should warn you that this isn’t going to be the most romantic of stories. But I loved Jake. Messed up as I was, I loved him. And he was right. I was scared of being abandoned. You think about my past — what happened with my birth mom, all those foster homes — and maybe you’ll cut me a little slack. So maybe I’ve got a small chip on my shoulder. Who doesn’t?

  “I don’t think I can do this without you,” I told him. Like I was a stinking princess locked away in the dungeon, unable to lift a finger to save myself.

  “Do what without me?” he asked. As if he couldn’t fill in the blanks. I think he just wanted to keep me talking. I’m not sure. Isn’t that what a shrink would do?

  “I don’t know. Everything.” I wasn’t going to spell it all out for him. Not because it felt like I’d just eaten a whole slice of humble pie and it was turning into little dry cement crumbles in my mouth. But because all of the scenarios were so horrible. Why didn’t I want to be left alone? Because Natalie might die. She might have to stay in the NICU for months. She might catch an infection. She might end up on a ventilator again, and I’d have to decide to pull the plug or not.

  That’s why I didn’t want him returning to Orchard Grove.

  He put his arm around me and said, “I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together.”

  When I lived with Sandy, she started taking me to this counselor dude, some Christian therapist who went to her husband’s church. I don’t even remember his name. I only saw him a handful of times. But he told me something that I haven’t forgotten. We were talking one afternoon — he had this office where everything smelled like leather — and he said my problem was I sabotaged my relationships. Instead of letting people hurt me, I was trying to regain some sense of control and destroying relationships on my own terms before others had the chance to abandon me.

  It made sense. It’s that control I’m always looking for. Did I tell you that after that guy assaulted me when I still worked at the convenience store, I actually went on a date or two with him? Not my brightest moment, but I think it’s the same idea. Once you agree to go out with someone, everything that comes after is on your terms, not his. You’re not powerless anymore.

  Man, I hate to feel powerless. I think that’s why I came so close to telling Jake about what I’d done. I knew he was going to leave, but if I destroyed our relationship before his foot was out the door, our massive falling out would be in my hands.

  But I didn’t want to be like that anymore. It was a miracle that Jake was still with me, that we were still a couple. And if we ever broke up, there’s no way I could find someone else who would see Natalie as anything more than a vegetable. So when all of a sudden I heard Jake mention marriage, I said yes. I was sick of sabotaging myself. I was sick of ruining the best things that ever happened to me. I was terrified of being left alone, and if Jake and I got married, I wouldn’t have to worry so much.

  Besides, if he ever discovers what I did, it will be that much harder for him to leave.

  CHAPTER 36

  Patricia hasn’t stirred since her regal exit to her room, and I haven’t heard a peep from Natalie, either. Now that I think about it, I have no idea why I ever agreed to let Patricia sleep in my daughter’s room. Was I so thankful for the chance to have someone else take charge of all the night suctioning and tube feeds that I was willing to risk my baby’s well-being? I mean, who knows how Patricia is trying to poison her against me? I swear just that grumpy aura alone could probably turn the sweetest Gerber baby into a colicky monster.

  I know I’ve got to talk to Jake about her, but he’s avoiding me. Which is silly when you consider that our elbows are only an inch apart from each other. It’s amazing what kind of armor one small smartphone can set up between two people. He’s slaughtering colorful pieces of candy, and I’m cyber stalking a girl I knew back in high school. She was one of the snotty ones from Sandy’s church who started the rumors about me and Lincoln Grant to begin with. Is it wrong for me to secretly rejoice that she’s now divorced?

  At least I’ve got a husband, chica.

  For now, anyway.

  But this Patricia thing has got to stop. Did you know that the Chinese symbol for trouble is a picture of two women living under the same roof? I’m not making it up. I read it on this random fact website I sometimes go to when I’m bored.

  I’ve already decided that Jake and I are having the Talk tonight. It can’t wait until morning because he’ll leave for work before I’m even awake. When it comes right down to it, Jake has to make a decision. Mommy or me. And based on past events, the odds aren’t too hot in my favor. But I can’t go on like this indefinitely, can I? You can’t blame me if I’m at the end of my rope. No, not even that. It’s more like I ran out of rope weeks ago, and now I’m at the bottom of a thousand-foot cavern with no footholds or ladders or even a little bucket on a pulley to get me out.

  So Jake’s got to man up and make the call. Either Patricia goes, or I go. Only now I’m thinking about sabotage and wondering if this is my way of ruining my marriage intentionally. If Patricia stays, that means I’m out of here, me and Natalie both. And then where would we go? It’s bad enough my baby and I live in a trailer and get Medicaid, WIC coupons, and food stamps. Like a stinking statistic.

  I don’t know. Maybe I should sleep on it. Things always look clearer in the morning, don’t they? Except Jake’s waking up at 4:30, and if I have to spend the entire morning alone with his mom without talking any of this through, I’m going to kill her.

  I swear I’m going to kill her.

  “You almost ready for bed?” I ask.

  “Mmm.” His eyes never leave his screen. It’s a wonder that boy hasn’t pulled a muscle in his forearm yet from popping all those stupid gobstoppers and bubble gums
.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at your mom.” The words are painful coming out of my throat, but I need to do something to get his attention. Desperate times, right?

  Jake zaps an entire row of purple-grape gushers. “Yeah, it was just Tylenol.”

  I bite my lip and carefully plan out my next words. “I know, but on the other hand I think it’s more than that. Have you noticed how she’s kind of taken over all of Natalie’s care?”

  “She’s just trying to help.” It’s my husband talking, but it’s his mother’s voice in my head. Somebody around here has to step up and pitch in.

  I need Patricia’s help about as badly as I need a double mastectomy. “I just thought that when she came, she’d only be staying for a week or so. It’s been two months now.” Even though I’m skillfully avoiding eye contact, I feel Jake’s body tense next to mine, so I add, “She shouldn’t have to put her own life on hold this long. We can take care of Natalie at this point.”

  He’s frowning, but I think it’s because he’s got too much red on his screen and none of those donut bombs to get rid of them all at once.

  “What do you think?” I prod. It takes every ounce of self-control in my body to keep my voice down. He’s lucky I don’t take his stupid phone and hurl it against the wall.

  You can tell he’s got more white in him than his mom because he shrugs with his shoulders in typical American style. “She’ll probably go home sometime after Christmas.”

  I have to mentally walk my way through the calendar to figure out how far out in the distance he’s talking. About a week?

  God bless me if I haven’t strangled her by then.

  CHAPTER 37

  It’s the morning after that blowup about the Tylenol, and I’m lying in bed. I woke up half an hour ago when Jake got up for work, and now I can’t go back to sleep. The sun won’t rise for a few more hours. I’m not even sure God’s awake this early in the day.

  Jake and I didn’t say anything to each other before he left. I don’t even think he noticed that his stupid alarm woke me up.

  Some days I’m so glad I married Jake. Other days I don’t have a clue what I was thinking.

  We went to the courthouse the morning he proposed. We had no idea there were waiting periods or anything like that. We thought you could just show up and get it done. The clerk told us we could fill out the paperwork that day but we’d have to wait for Thursday to actually go through with it.

  Knowing me, knowing how I hate feeling close to someone who might end up abandoning me, you might think I spent those three days on pins and needles. Or maybe I secretly planned ways to sabotage my own happiness like that counselor accused me of doing.

  It wasn’t like that. I can honestly say we were happy. Heaven knows I had enough reasons to be literally depressed, except I wasn’t.

  I couldn’t believe it was really going to happen. I was really getting married. And to someone like Jake.

  If you had asked me back in high school, I’m sure I would have told you my dream man would be like Lincoln Grant. Dark skin. Super sexy. Deep voice. Hard abs. The works.

  Man, I have to laugh when I compare Jake to that. But there was something that felt so right about everything at the time. Like I was making the mature decision for a change. I was doing what was best for my daughter. I was providing her with a stable family life. I wasn’t going to be a woman of the world anymore. I was done sleeping around. Done living irresponsibly.

  God would be happy with me if I married my baby’s father, right? Doesn’t that kind of go with the whole purity philosophy?

  I sort of saw this marriage as my way to get back on the right foot with God. I mean, I knew he hadn’t ever left me, but I also knew my choices weren’t doing anything to make him happy. Who knew? Maybe if Jake and I made our relationship official, God would turn away whatever wrath he was pouring out on our tiny, helpless baby.

  If I’d studied the Bible more thoroughly, I might have realized that even getting hitched hadn’t worked out too well for David and Bathsheba and the child they conceived in sin. But that’s the God of the Old Testament, right? The God of the New Testament’s all about mercy and grace.

  Thank heavens.

  I’ve been thinking more about God since that Sunday service. I’m glad Jake forced me to go with him. It’s kind of like after you eat real healthy for a day or two, and it kick starts something in your body where you want to keep up the good work. That’s how I’ve been feeling spiritually.

  I’m married now, and ironically I’m abstinent, at least for as long as Patricia’s been here. That’s got to count for something in God’s eyes, right? And I was really ticked at Jake last night, but I didn’t even yell at him. We had a civil discussion, I let him know my opinion, but I didn’t raise my voice or anything.

  Isn’t that how the Bible says women are supposed to behave with their husbands?

  And I’ve got a date in my head now. Jake said his mom would leave after Christmas. I think that’s his way of telling me, let’s not rock the boat right before the holidays, but after Christmas is over, I’ll tell her she’s got to go. It’s the best choice, really. He’s right to not kick her out this week of all weeks. That would be cruel.

  But now that I see a light at the top of the mother-in-law pit of Hades, I’m starting to think about what it will be like when Jake’s at work and I’m the one taking care of Natalie. I want to be the kind of mom in those magazines, the kind of mom Dr. Bell thinks I am. I’ll get a library card. Start reading her stories like I’d been planning to do all along. It just feels so awkward to hold a book and read to a baby who doesn’t even notice you, but I’ll make myself get used to it.

  I feel good. I mean, if I’m going to be taking care of Natalie, I’ve got to get past this parenting autopilot I’ve been on and start engaging with her. I should sing songs to her. I’ve got a pretty good voice. She’ll love it. Maybe we’ll watch America’s Got Talent together. Maybe she’ll be the youngest winner. Maybe one day my baby will become world famous. With that chocolate skin and those perfect almond eyes, I’m sure it could happen.

  I get up and do some stretches. I’m not like some girls, you know, who go overboard into fitness, but I like the way my body feels when I’m done. If I’m going to make myself a better person, I’m going all out. That’s why I’m out of bed hours before my usual wake-up time. I’ve got a house to clean. Breakfast to make. Christmas to plan.

  I’m shocked to hear myself say this, but I actually think it’s going to be a good day.

  CHAPTER 38

  “How was work?” I ask as soon as Jake gets home.

  “Not bad.” His voice is uncertain, like he doesn’t know why I sound so cheerful. He glances over my shoulder, and I peck him on the cheek.

  I’m all smiles. This is exciting. Like handing someone a surprise Christmas present. Jake doesn’t know about this change in me. I’m glad he’s a little off-guard. It means my metamorphosis is dramatic enough for him to notice.

  He’s looking at me sideways, like he doesn’t trust me. “Where’s my mom?”

  I almost laugh. Is he afraid I strangled her and dumped the body in my perfectly bleached bathtub?

  “She wasn’t feeling well today. She’s coming down with a cold or something.” Which is amazing, given how many hundreds of dollars she spends a month on health supplements. That’s one thing Patricia’s got going for her. She married into money and hired a good lawyer when she got divorced.

  Both times.

  Jake frowns, and I wonder if he’ll be on edge until he sees his mom alive and kicking. Or at least alive. I’ve never witnessed someone succumb to a common cold that dramatically. Like she’s Wonder Woman one day and Madonna in that musical Evita, wallowing on her deathbed the next.

  It was perfect timing, which is partly why I think God might have noticed my desire to be a better person and he’s blessing me for it. I mean, I’m not happy that she’s sick, but I went into the day hoping for the chance to prove that
I can care for Natalie by myself, and that’s exactly what came about. I got all her tube feedings in on time. She never had a soiled diaper for more than five or ten minutes before I was there to clean her up, and I even got lunch ready by the time Jake got home. It’s chicken soup from cans, but I did add a few frozen vegetables. And guess what? I’m serving rice, but I actually put it into the soup.

  I also added salt.

  Let’s watch Patricia’s blood pressure jump fifteen points after the first bite.

  I follow Jake into the kitchen. “You still didn’t tell me about your day.”

  He takes the lid off the pot and gives it a confused expression like he’s never seen brown rice in broth before. Then again, maybe he hasn’t.

  “Work was fine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Any other day, I would have pressed him for details. Assumed that since he wasn’t talkative, there must be something he was trying to hide from me. Not today. Today is a fresh start. A New Year’s resolution a little bit early. I’m not going to be the sulky, nagging wife I’ve been. I’m not even going to complain about Patricia living with us, at least not until after Christmas. But by then, my husband says she’ll be gone anyway.

  I grab the spoon and make myself look busy. “Hey, can you tell your mom that lunch is ready?”

  Jake’s still staring at me like I’ve just morphed into one of the mutants from the X-Men, but he leaves the kitchen and I hear him knocking softly on Patricia’s door.

  Natalie’s breathing is a little gunky, so I leave the soup simmering to suction her out. I’m glad that Jake and his mom come down the hall while I’ve still got the Yankauer in my hand. If this doesn’t prove to them that I’ve got what it takes to care for my child, nothing will.

  Patricia looks awful, like she’s gotten into a fight with a hair dryer and lost. I understand now why she spends that forty minutes putting on her foundation and concealer every morning. I’m sure I would too if that’s what I looked like without any makeup. I don’t know how to describe her hair. It’s not exactly frizzy, because I don’t think many Japanese women have that problem. All I can say is it gives me some small satisfaction knowing that my mother-in-law gets bedhead and tangled hair just like the rest of the world.