Trunk full of so much baby stuff that I’m questioning my sanity, I make my way to Rowan’s apartment and find myself anxious to see her and Lily. Rowan’s dark hair, hazel eyes and full lips flash in my mind and I realize I want more than to help. I want to get to know her… really know her. It’s driven me crazy that I haven’t been able to get her out of my mind, but I realize, I don’t want to. I like her there.
How does the world keep on turning when it’s stopped for me? My world has become filled with nothing but darkness, loneliness, crying, staring at the walls, and feelings of hopelessness. All of these emotions are occasionally interrupted by the needs of a one-week-old little girl. She’s my world, my heart, my more so why does it take so much effort and all of the energy I have to take care of her?
Basic household tasks have been ignored. Getting dressed is a chore that requires more than I can muster on most days. All I want to do is sleep or fall asleep since doing so seems to rarely come easy. I get lost in time staring out my bedroom window caught between repeated daydreams: in one, Tyson comes home and takes care of us; in another I miraculously come into a ton of money and all my stress and troubles instantly disappear; or my faceless Prince Charming shows up to sweep us off of our feet.
When I’m not lost in the movies in my mind, I’m amazed by the constant comings and goings outside my window. The window in my room faces a townhouse across the street that may as well be a bar. It’s always hopping. Echoes of laughter make their way to me through my open window and somewhere inside of me I feel longing to feel as carefree unencumbered as they sound. I hate them. I hate that they can find happiness when I cannot. But what I hate most are the couples that stand outside wrapped up in each other’s arms, lips locked and genuine joy transparent in every facial expression and body movement. Why are they deserving of love when I’m not?
I stupidly made the mistake of trying to call Jason again. For some crazy reason I really wanted to hear the sound of his voice. Maybe I even needed something to make me know that I’m not crazy. Other than the little girl that is a clear representative of the fact he exists - I have nothing else. The first day after I came home I burned all his pictures. Every remnant of anything he has ever given me - an Arizona Cardinals t-shirt, movie stubs I’d saved and a card he gave me for a long ago birthday - destroyed. I screamed at his pictures as if he could somehow hear my hateful¸ angry, pleading words through them. I cried rivers and scratched out the stupid smiling faces looking back at me. Smiles that I feel like I’ll never make again. My screams woke Lily and it took me nearly an hour to get myself off of the floor to see what she needed. And only then it was because I was afraid of what the neighbors would think and how they might start complaining.
Everything just feels difficult. So overwhelming. So painfully and exhaustingly dark.
I’ve been sitting here for a while now, while Lily’s been sleeping, staring out the window crying. Tears…they have their own mind now and come and go without invitation or notice. There is no logic in their appearance and it seems to take very little to make them stream down my face in rivers. Briefly I wonder if it’s possible to cry yourself out of tears. Do they ever dry up? How do they keep coming? My mind will take hold of a simple thought or a memory and not let it go. It replays over and over and over in my mind until I’m certain it’s going to make me insane if it comes just one more time. I’ve tried hitting my head against the wall –repeatedly at times - to see if I could shake the memories loose. But it doesn’t work. Sometimes counting or distracting myself with one of my beloved books or watching some stupid TV show will help, if I’m extremely lucky. But it works only for a short time. Today my mother’s cruel words seem to be locked in my mind and no matter what I do, they’ve decided to imprison themselves there, repeating themselves endlessly, and never wanting out.
“No one will ever love you.”
Forcing myself to leave my chair by the window, I make my way to the bathroom while rubbing my red and swollen eyes. Taking a seat on the toilet lid for a minute trying to catch my breath, I smooth my hair behind my ears. Just the little walk from room to room exhausts me. Taking deep breaths I look in the shower and consider taking a bath thinking that the warm water will wrap around me and offer me a sense of comfort. Help me to keep from craving arms I wish were there to offer comfort instead, even though he doesn’t deserve to ever touch me again. But it requires much too much effort for a potential hollow promise.
At my lowest, I packed Lily up in my car and went to Jason’s place. I knocked on the door of his apartment, beat at the door and cried my heart out until a neighbor threatened to call the police. She told me she hadn’t seen him for a while. I don’t know if she was lying or not, but I gathered what I could of my pride and left. I’ve told myself I won’t do that again. He clearly doesn’t want anything to do with us and I refuse to allow myself to go there and try to beg him. Somehow I was able to drum up a modicum of self-respect.
Even though he left me, my craving for Jason is at an all time high even after my failed attempt to make contact with him. He may have been an asshole, but he was there. He offered me connection to another human being that I crave. When we had sex for a few moments at least, I felt loved, cared for. Wanted.
The razor in my shower captures my attention and for some reason I find myself unable to look away. Would anyone even notice? Would anyone even care? No. There’s no one. Jason is gone. Tyson is gone. My mother doesn’t even know where we are. I’ve never had a father. The girls at the diner might miss me, but probably only because they are counting on me to come back soon. I called them and told them I need more recovery time than I anticipated. They told me that’s not a problem, but it is for me. I have almost no more money. I have to go back to work. Somehow. Some way. I have to find the energy to go back.
The razor calls my name again like a siren’s song. All I have to do is break open the plastic and take the blade out. One deep quick slice on both wrists and this misery will be gone. With trembling fingers I pick it up. Lily deserves better, doesn’t she? Better than some mother who can barely bring herself to take care of her. She’s only going to end up hating me some day anyway. Wouldn’t I just be doing her a favor? A daydream forms in the most remote part of my brain of a wonderful family, maybe a couple that had been trying to have a child for years and hasn’t been able to. They would adopt her. She would be loved and cared for. She would have a mother and a father. A real family. A complete family. Maybe she would even have brothers and sisters one day. She would be normal. She would have something that I’ve failed to give her.
Running my finger over the blade I’m transfixed by the shiny steel. I prick myself with the blade and hiss at the bite of pain, but then I stare transfixed at the blood that falls down my finger.
She deserves better.
Cracking the razor with strength I hardly feel, I pull out the blade. I can barely hold it still in my fingers, they’re shaking so bad. With as much steadiness as I can, I place the blade on the inside of my wrist and close my eyes. One quick slice. That’s all. No one will even care. I won’t have to endure this loneliness any longer. I picture everyone’s relieved faces when I die. They won’t have to bother with me any longer. They’ll be happy I’m not here. Better. They’ll be better off without me. I’ll no longer be a burden to my brother, to my employer, to Lily.
Taking a deep breath, I press down and feel the small bite in my skin. A sudden, violent knock at the door of my apartment alarms me. With a cry I jerk the blade in surprise and cut myself a little. I barely feel it. Guiltily I throw the blade away and grab a towel to wrap around my wrist. Making my way to the door I look through the peephole to see who it is.
A gasp of surprise leaves my mouth when I see Jax standing there, arms full of bags, waiting for me to answer the door. I don’t want to answer it. I’m just going to ignore it. But when he knocks again it startles me and I make a noise, likely alerting him to my presence because he calls out, “Rowan? It’s me,
Jax.”
With a sigh, I unlock the deadbolt then open the door as far as the chain will allow. “Jax?” My voice sounds raspy. It hasn’t been used in hours? Days? I don’t even know. Jax’s eyes widen when he sees me and it occurs to me how I must look to him. Unclean hair, likely sunken swollen red eyes with dark circles, and ratty clothes. I don’t remove the chain and just stand there as Jax furrows his brow and takes a small step forward.
“Can I please come in, Rowan?”
“Now isn’t really a good time.”
He comes closer still, and his eyes drift behind me before they focus on me once again. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything is fine,” I lie.
“I have some diapers, formula and a bunch of other stuff for you. I have no clue what kind of formula you’re feeding Lily, if at all, but I thought maybe it would be helpful? I know you haven’t called or messaged me at all, but I thought maybe I would just come by and check on you.” He’s talking fast. He senses I have no intention of opening the door for him so he’s trying to finish his prepared speech. He’s right to worry.
“Why?”
His brow furrows again, “What do you mean why?”
“Why do you care, Jax? I’m not your goddamn responsibility and I don’t want your sympathy or charity. Just leave me alone. No one gives a shit without wanting something in return and you know what Jax? I have nothing left to fucking give. I’m all wrung out.”
Closing the door, I ignore his insistent knocks and calls of my name. He tells me through the door that he doesn’t want anything in return. He says he just wants to be my friend, to help and get to know me. I do my best to ignore him and walk to the bathroom again, but am interrupted by Lily crying. Going into her room, I look at her over the top of her crib. Her face is screwed up while she cries and something inside of me clenches at the sight. “Shh, Lily. It’s okay,” I say automatically and her little face relaxes at the sound of my voice. She opens her eyes and looks at me while her bottom lip pushes out with a little pout and she sniffles. Picking her up, I take her to the dresser that I use as a changing table and replace her wet diaper, then take her to make a bottle. I didn’t have the energy to breastfeed. I know it’s the right thing to do, but I let my milk dry up and chose formula instead.
The whole time she drinks she looks straight into my eyes and holds them. It’s the first time she’s really focused on me since she’s been born. Usually her eyes look everywhere else, somewhat unclearly, or stay closed. I can’t look away from her big blue eyes and tears start pouring down my face. I feel like she sees me, really sees me. This small little soul connecting with mine – it’s indescribable how it makes me feel.
The towel falls away from my wrist and I see the cut there from the razor blade and it makes me shudder and bile rises in my throat. Shame floods me. What was I thinking? What was I about to do? She needs me. I dare to think that maybe she could even love me some day. As if she knows my thoughts her little hand wraps around my fingers that are holding the bottle to her mouth and it makes me cry harder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I love you so much.”
Standing from the couch, I make my way to the front door and remove the chain, opening it. My eyes sweep the hallway looking for Jax, but he’s gone and in his place are piles of items he’s left at my door. Carefully stepping over them, I walk next door to Audrey’s and knock. I’m not waiting long before she opens it and gasps when she takes in my appearance, “Rowan? Are you okay, honey?” Her concern somewhat eases when she sees my sweet content baby in my arms.
“No,” I whisper, “I need help. Please help me.”
It’s been almost three months since I visited Ty in jail. Almost three months since the first time I tried to see Rowan and was turned away. Since she answered the door and was clearly unwell. Almost three long months of watching, worrying and waiting. Three months of quietly supporting Rowan even though she has no idea.
After trying a few more times to see Rowan and being left standing by myself in the hallway, I decided to back off and watch. And wait. I may have initially felt like a creepy stalker but one day when I saw Rowan going for a walk with an older lady, additional observation helped me realize the other lady was her neighbor. That’s when I made my move. Following Audrey to the park one day when she was returning from an errand, I scared the shit out of her when I approached her. That was not a fun experience. Not just because I was desperate for any and all information about Rowan, needing verification that she was okay, but especially when Audrey threatened me with pepper spray. Quickly explaining myself Audrey relaxed, then she and I began a tenuous relationship – at least on her part. At my request, she gives Rowan supplies I purchase for Lily under the assumption that Audrey buys them, not me. Our friendship is unlikely, I suppose, but it’s been working. It wasn’t long before Audrey opened up with a little friendly conversation and she started feeding me the information that I had been craving. In all truth, I was probably more honest with Audrey about my concerns than I had intended to be, so I guess our opening up went both ways.
After the way Rowan answered the door that day, I knew something was wrong. Really wrong. It was just a gut feeling and after promising Ty I would watch out for her, I wasn’t about to back down. My protective feelings regarding her and Lily were as strong as ever. When I told Audrey about visiting Ty and how I was genuinely concerned, her eyes softened and then began our plan. I would bring over items for Rowan each week and deliver them to Audrey during our standing tea date. Just the thought almost makes me gag. I think her tea tastes like shit. She serves some lavender crap or something, but Audrey seems to enjoy the company and I like the information exchange, so I pretend it’s the best damn tea I’ve ever had. On lucky days, I get a two for one – Lily’s there too. The kid is cute and just gets cuter ever day.
Audrey told me the struggles Rowan went through – is still working through. She was hit hard with post partum depression and didn’t understand what was happening to her and kept sinking deeper and deeper into a pit of despair. It astounded me what a difference only one week could make. I wanted nothing more than to break down her door and wrap her in my arms and never let her go.
Initially, knowing she was being cared for and that I wasn’t wanted, I tried to work her out of my system. Talk about embarrassing. I picked up a girl at the bar and then was unable to follow through on what I initiated. Not cool. I was such an asshole to her too. I led her on, got her back to my place and on her knees. While she was sucking me off all I could picture was Rowan’s face instead of the blonde doing her best in front of me. Realizing that I had just gotten off by pretending the blonde was Rowan freaked me out. Before thoughts of my reciprocating entered her mind, I tossed the blonde out on her ass. I didn’t even remember her name - I just wanted a distraction. A total dick move, but all I wanted to do was shower and pretend it had never happened and choose not to evaluate those feelings too much. Besides, it was obvious. Rowan’s under my skin and I want her.
Now, two and a half months later, Rowan’s doing great according to Audrey and based on the little I’ve seen of her from afar, she looks fantastic. She’s been on medication to help with the depression and looks to be on the tail end of that, which is good. Regular visits to her doctor and Audrey’s help is making a world of difference. I’ve stayed away and given her time to adjust and get better, so today is the day. She’s working at the diner this afternoon like she does most days and I’m going in. I almost asked one of the guys to come to lunch with me, but considering it’s the first time she will see me since she shut the door in my face, I’m not sure how this is going to go. The least amount of witnesses to give me shit about a potentially bad face to face later, the better.
Casually making my way into Al’s, I look around and locate Rowan behind the bar serving someone sitting there. I slide into a booth in what I already know is the section she’s working and put a menu in front of my face. I slowly lower the menu and peek over the top when I hear laughter.
Rowan is smiling and laughing at something some guy is saying to her. At least it’s an older man, because otherwise I would feel the need to punch him in the face since he’s made her smile and laugh instead of me. Damn she’s beautiful. The way her face lights up and the smile reaches her eyes makes me smile too. It’s contagious. Her hair is pulled up on her head in a bun thing and she’s got a pencil stuck through it. Her cute little white apron is tied around her waist and when she walks out from behind the bar to serve another table, I see she’s wearing a black button down dress. When she bends over to place their plates on the table, I suppress a groan. An image of bending her all the way over that table until her stomach is flat and her pert little ass is in the air as I fuck her from behind flashes through my mind and I’m instantly hard. Adjusting myself in my seat I return my attention to my menu and try to calm myself.
“Hi there, what can I get ya?” Her voice sounds like honey and I smirk to myself knowing I need to resign myself to the fact that this erection isn’t going anywhere.
Lowering the menu, I give Rowan a hesitant smile. Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open in a silent o making me think of what I’d like to put there. Pushing that aside, I let my smile widen, “Fancy meeting you here, gorgeous.” Did I just say fancy? Smooth Stone, really smooth.
Fighting Envy Page 7
