Rebecca

by Adam J Nicolai

  It was you, she thought viciously. You, if you weren't fucking here, everything would still be how it was. I should've fucking aborted you. I should've fucking given you up. I fucking hate you. She stalked over to the swing.

  Tiff put out a warning hand. "Sare, I can get her -"

  "I'm not gonna fucking hurt her," Sarah snarled. "I just wish she would - !"

  Shut up, she'd been about to say, but the sight of the girl struck her dumb. It might have been Sarah in the swing, pinch-faced and sobbing, buffeted by her fear. But it wasn't. This was her daughter.

  Her daughter, terrified, screaming for her mother.

  Her rage evaporated; as it left, she felt her face melting. "Oh, god." She reached down and undid the buckles, pulled her daughter loose and into her arms. "Hey. Shhhhhhh. Oh, hey. Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh, no." She brushed past Tiff, retreated down the hallway to the bedroom, and closed the door behind her.

  Becca's little body jerked with hoarse cries. She didn't understand nuance or explanation, couldn't rationalize what she heard. There was no defense between her and the world's pain.

  "I'm sorry. Mommy's sorry. Shhhhhhhhh. I'm not mad at you. Oh, sweetheart, no, I'm not mad at you. I love you." She smoothed her daughter's hair against the blaring red of her scalp, kissed her forehead, took in her scent. "I love you. I love you. It's okay. Don't cry." She kissed her again, tried to fight off the feeling that she had done this before: screamed at her daughter, then apologized. She didn't want it to be that way. "It's okay. Shhhhhhh. I promise.

  "It's okay."

  100

  Becca fell quiet eventually, and the two of them stared at each other in the waning light from the window slats. The girl's eyes were fathomless; they drank in her mother's gaze like a parched plain. Sarah held Becca's arms to her sides, keeping her from her panicked thrashing, trying to remind her of the safety of the womb. "Hello," she whispered. "Aren't you beautiful? It's okay now. Are you hungry?"

  But she didn't seem to be; her rich eyes were already growing heavy again. When she fell back to sleep - her head lolling to the side and her lips parted - Sarah kept her, relishing her warmth and weight as the light from the window faded. She had an itch on her calf, and her neck was still throbbing from the slap she'd given herself the other night. But she ignored these things. She wanted to be close to her daughter.

  Mom's condemnation swirled around her in the growing dark, biting and tearing, and that was fine. She kept her arms around Becca, protecting her from it.

  "I'm not gonna do that to you," she whispered. "I don't care who you grow up to be. I'm not gonna do that to you. You're my daughter. I love you." The words ached in her chest. She wanted to do this right. So she clutched her daughter to her chest, gave her safety and warmth and love, until her arms began to go numb.

  The door cracked open; Tiff peeked in. "Sorry," she whispered. "I thought you guys had gone to sleep. I was just checking."

  "That's okay," Sarah whispered back. Seeing Tiff check in on them like that made her heart sing. She didn't understand it. Her mother had sworn her off, she had no money and no job, she had lost her only chance at Yale, and her boyfriend was an insufferable jackass. She should've felt hopeless.

  But in that instant, she didn't feel hopeless. She was holding her sleeping daughter. The woman she loved was peeking in on them.

  Maybe she had everything she needed.

  She felt a soft smile on her lips. "I got her back to sleep."

  Tiff returned it. "I see that. Are you gonna stay in here with her for awhile? Want me to bring the swing in?"

  Sarah hadn't even considered the possibility; it was inspiring, like witnessing a sunrise. "That would be wonderful."

  101

  Sarah managed to get her into the swing without waking her up. She and Tiff crept out together, thieves that had gotten away with the king's treasure.

  "Are you hungry?" Tiff asked, still whispering. "I made some -"

  Sarah took her face in her hands and kissed her. Tiff responded at once, her arms encircling Sarah, pulling her in; Sarah clutched at Tiff's hair, sought out her tongue with her own. They stumbled toward the living room, an awkward tangle of groping limbs. A scream echoed from the back of Sarah's mind - a warning about sin and shame - but for once, her passion drowned it out.

  Tiff pulled her to the floor before they reached the couch and licked at her neck. Her breath was fire on Sarah's skin; it made her so eager that she grabbed Tiff's head, directed it toward her breasts.

  "Are you sure?" Tiff breathed, tugging at her shirt, nibbling at her. "You don't hurt - ?"

  "Don't care," Sarah moaned. Her hips were moving on their own, grinding upwards, pleading. The words were directed at Tiff, at her mother, at everything. "Don't care. Just -"

  Her breath caught; her words died. Tiff finished the sentence for her.

  102

  After, Sarah lay with her head against Tiff's shoulder and the raw bristles of the carpet scraping against her hips, circling Tiff's nipples with one lazy finger. She could still feel the fading shudders, amazing echoes of a sensation Cal had never given her.

  She wanted to say something, but all the options felt contrived. "That was amazing," or "Was it good for you?" It was the kind of stuff you'd hear in a corny late-night comedy. Nothing was right, so she ignored it; kept herself in the present, touching this beautiful woman, this lover of hers, trying to ignore the shame that was already creeping back.

  To banish it and try to reclaim her peace, she said, "That was incredible."

  Tiff's fingers clutched at Sarah's hair, stroked her forehead. "Yeah." Her chest rose and fell with the word. Sarah kissed her breast, relishing the heat against her lips.

  "Thank you," Sarah said.

  Tiff laughed a little. "You weren't bad yourself."

  "No, I mean - for helping with Becca. For going with me to the Dedication. For everything." She had a sudden, irrational fear that they were over now; that Tiff had gotten what she wanted and would be leaving.

  "You're welcome," Tiff murmured. Her chest fell into an even rhythm. Sarah was wide awake, but Tiff had to be exhausted. She'd been with Becca all day while Sarah slept. Sarah wanted to let her rest, but her fear wouldn't let her.

  "Why did you do it?" she asked.

  Tiff stirred. "Do what?"

  "Help with Becca. Come to the Dedication."

  Tiff kissed her, a slow, hot press of lips to forehead. "Because I love you."

  "Why?"

  The cars on Riverside passed like lazy meteors, bathing their naked bodies in long washes of light.

  "I don't know," Tiff finally answered. "Lots of reasons. I can't get you out of my head. The way you smile. The way your eyes flash when you're mad. And you're so fucking smart. You're the only one who gets me."

  There was a break in traffic; the only light on the walls came from the sodium lamps in the parking lot. Tiff's voice could've been floating through the phone line. The darkness was an invitation to secrets, a place without blame.

  She whispered to it, "Are you gonna stay?"

  Tiff's voice reached out from the darkness, a thousand miles away and right next to her. "Do you want me to?"

  "I don't know. I mean, yes. More than anything." We'll tear it to pieces. "But you shouldn't. I don't want you to resent me. You're going to Mac, you didn't sign up for this. Rebecca's not your problem." Tiff's not the one who got pregnant, Sarah's mother whispered. She was always there, whispering.

  "She's not anyone's problem," Tiff breathed. "She's wonderful."

  Sarah remembered the smell of her daughter's head, remembered her heat and her weight. "Yeah," she agreed. "She is." She floated on those memories in the darkness, cherishing them. "But still."

  "This is what I want." Tiff trailed a finger along her arm. "I love you. And your daughter is amazing. And this... this is what I want."

  "I spend all this time talking about my mom. But your parents aren't gonna be happy, either, with you giving up school. Aren't you worried -"


  "Well, it's not like we just met. I've known you for years. I have cousins who got married to people they haven't known half as long. They'll understand." Tiff's voice was languid and certain.

  "What if they don't?"

  She felt the warm press of Tiff's lips again. "Sarah, I have wanted to be with you since I first saw you in debate. You drive me crazy. And if I have to choose between school and being with you - and I'm not even sure I really need to do that, you know, it's not like Mac is that far away or like no one's ever put school off for a year or two. But if I have to choose, I choose to be with you. I would rather lose school than lose you. And you told your mom about us, I know you're serious, and... I know how much that hurt you, and I'm here. I've always wanted to be here, and I'm here.

  "And okay, maybe I wouldn't have chosen to have a baby right now. But don't you get it? I'm in love with you. I can't just turn that off. I tried, when you started acting all weird last year, and I couldn't. You came back to me, and I think it was because of Rebecca, in a way. I can't resent her for that. I love her for it."

  Sarah could melt into her, drown in her words. She found herself believing them, despite the clamoring of her shame, but still her fears drove her onwards. "What about money? What if we don't have a place to live?"

  "We'll figure it out. And besides, it's done, right? Your mom will do what she's gonna do. It's got nothing to do with us now."

  The darkness was still there, waiting for her final confession.

  "I'm scared..." she started. Tiff's embrace felt like heaven. She didn't want to lose it. "I'm scared this is wrong."

  "What? Us?"

  Sarah nodded. She was too ashamed to say it out loud. Tiff fell quiet; a few stray streaks from Riverside washed the wall.

  She had said too much. Now Tiff would leave.

  "You really thought it was a demon?" Tiff finally asked.

  "What?"

  "I didn't - not like I was trying to listen in, but on the phone with your mom, you said - did you really think you were possessed?"

  "Yeah," Sarah whispered to the dark. The word left the taste of shame in her mouth.

  "Do you still?"

  "I don't know. I don't think so."

  "Do you think I am?"

  "No," Sarah answered at once. Her certainty surprised her, but Tiff was too luminous, too beautiful, to be under some dark creature's influence.

  "Neither are you. Can't you feel that?" She took Sarah's hand. "Do you love me?"

  "Yes," Sarah breathed, fiercely.

  "If you feel it like I feel it, like those nights on the phone, like this" - she squeezed Sarah's hand - "then you know what it is. It's holy. It comes from God."

  She did feel it, that sensation they were always trying to make her find in church, that she never could: it was the Holy Spirit, it was quiet exhilaration, rushing through her blood like fire.

  Tiff scoffed. "That church has you all fucked up. They don't know what they're talking about.

  "Demons don't make people fall in love."

  103

  Rebecca's cries came just after midnight. They were as raw as ever, but for once, they didn't make her flinch. She was drawn to them. Her daughter needed her.

  "Shhhhh," she whispered as she picked the girl up. Her cries quieted at once; her fathomless eyes latched earnestly to her mother's face.

  Sarah made a bottle with one hand, Becca held safe in the other, and sang to her quietly as she worked. Once they were settled on the couch, she watched her daughter's throat bob as she fed, and the miracle of her bright eyes. She wondered what the girl was thinking, what she was seeing, and a revelation came to her.

  In the entirety of the world, Rebecca understood two things: she had called for her mother, and her mother had come.

  104

  She would've shielded Tiff from Becca's needs all day, but Tiff wouldn't let her; she got up around eight, got dressed and gave Sarah a kiss, and started making breakfast.

  "God," Sarah called from the couch as she played with Becca. "It's like you won't stop cooking unless someone holds you down."

  "Hey, man." Tiff poked her head around the corner. "I'm hungry. I know you've been surviving on cold cereal and gruel, but I want some fuckin' bacon."

  Sarah picked Becca up and moved to the dining room table, so they could see into the kitchen. Tiff emerged from the fridge with a package of bacon and a handful of condiments.

  "I'm glad you're here," Sarah said.

  Tiff smiled at her. "Me too."

  "Are you staying again tonight?"

  "I'd like to." She paused. "I don't know, I could maybe stay the rest of the week, and see how it goes?"

  "Okay." Sarah grinned at her. "Thank you, for last night. For what you said. I feel like... I don't know, I feel like I've screwed up a lot of things, but I'm actually glad it happened. I really love her." Becca was sitting uncertainly on Sarah's lap, her head supported by Sarah's hand, staring in awe at Tiff's bacon. "And I really missed you. I never thought this could happen."

  "I love you," Tiff said. The words sounded different in the daylight: bolder, more consequential. They weren't secret here.

  "I love you, too." She said it solemnly, looking into Tiff's eyes as if making a vow.

  "I know you're really worried about money, and Becca - everything, really. School." Tiff bit her lip. "But you don't have to be worried about me. Okay? I want this. I'm here."

  Sarah nodded tightly.

  Tiff sniffed at her shirt. "But I should probably run home and get some more clothes."

  105

  They had a lazy day: TV and YouTube. After the baby went down for a nap around ten, they talked on the couch. Sarah had seen some restaurants hiring around town, and Tiff's uncle owned a place in Eddington. Tiff could watch Becca while Sarah was working, she promised, and vice versa. Maybe, once they had enough coming in, they could put Becca in daycare and start going to school.

  The conversation was calming and alarming at once. She wanted to be with Tiff, but they were moving faster than she would've ever expected. She wasn't scared, though. She felt like she was sitting in the roller coaster at the top of a big drop, anxious but ready.

  A little after noon, Tiff headed home to get some clothes, as promised. They shared a long kiss at the door while Becca grunted and protested her forced tummy time. When Tiff was gone, Sarah got dressed and returned to the living room, where she lay down on the carpet, her face toward her little girl's.

  "Oh, it's tough," she urged. Becca's expression was nearly comical: equal parts betrayal and rage. "I know, I know, we do it every day and it's so unfair. Mommy knows. Mommy -"

  "She'll figure it out," Cal said. "It's never that hard for me."

  Sarah yelped and leapt to her feet, her pulse suddenly sprinting. He must've just come in; he was blocking the little hall to the front door.

  "God!" she accused him. "Do you knock?"

  "Sorry. It was unlocked, so I just came in." He seemed calmer, somehow; the fire that had been in his eyes yesterday had died to embers. He held out a placating hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

  "Well, you did. You scared the shit out of me." Her heart was still hammering. "What are you doing here?"

  "I could ask you the same thing."

  It was almost 12:30; they were supposed to have met at 11.

  "Crap," she said. "I forgot. Sorry. It's been a crazy morning here. Let me just call Tiff and -"

  "No, no, it's okay. Look, I won't stay long, all right? We just really need to talk, that's all."

  "Okay. Why don't you wait outside, and I'll be ready in a few minutes."

  "Sare, look. I know I was acting like a lunatic yesterday. You were right; I needed a little time to calm down. Okay?" He held out his hands, supplicating. "Sorry. My dad gave me some bad news, and I was freaking out a little, but I'm all right now. Swear to god. I didn't mean to scare you. I just want to talk."

  He did seem more relaxed. "Cal, I thought you were on something yeste
rday."

  "I know. I know. I'm sorry. I get worked up sometimes. I just..." He gestured and waved, trying to pluck the words from thin air. "My dad's not gonna pay for school. Period."

  Sarah sighed. "I wondered."

  "He practically kicked me out of the house. He thinks I should be living with you." He shook his head. "And I'm in over my head, here, Sarah. I can admit that. I mean, I know you understand. You've actually been dealing with the kid, and you're right - I've been blowing it off. And maybe Dad's right too, maybe I do need to man up and own it, but it's like he doesn't understand that there's two of us here. I can't just move in. It's not like I can club you over the head and drag you back to my cave." He chuckled. A hint of that old fire flickered. "You don't want to get married. You don't even want me at your place, and the truth is, I don't blame you."

  "...All right," Sarah said. It felt like talking to a pod person. Where was this guy two months ago?

  "So... I feel like an asshole that it took my dad doing this to convince me, but... I don't want to fight. You know? This kid is not going away. It's going to be here for the rest of our lives, and we're gonna have to deal with each other. I just... I want another chance. I know I screwed up, but I want to make it up to you."

  Sarah felt a kind of wry dread. Oh, great. He wants to make it up to me. She wanted to just push him away, but he was right: they were stuck with each other. Her revelations about herself, her willingness to come out to her mother, hadn't come soon enough to spare her this. "I'm listening."

  He looked relieved. "Okay. So. The first thing. I just want to get this aired out. Are we done? You know, as a couple?"

  The legendary Cal tact strikes again. She must not have been able to keep the disgust off her face, because he said, "Look, I'm sorry I was such a jerk about it, but seriously, Tiff has been staying here overnight, and I'm not an idiot. Are you guys...?"

  "Yeah." Sarah looked him dead in the eye. "Yeah, we are. And no, you were right to be mad. I should've told you."