by Ally Sky
I fail to convince myself to join the celebrants outside and climb up the stairs to the second floor, into my old room. My parents left it as it was, for Vivian's use.
When she’s here she sleeps, in the bed that was mine, in the room where I fell in love with her father. I open the door, turn on the light, and sit down on the edge of the bed. In the corner is the desk I was using and the same chair stands next to it. Even the smell has not changed. Everything froze when I left at eighteen, as my father protested. He claimed I was too young, throwing my future into the trash, that I would discover my mistake when it was too late. He was right about everything.
The certificates on the wall are a reminder of my failure. I shift my gaze from one to the other. The outstanding student finished her career as a saleswoman in the furniture store. Not impressive at all. I shake my head in frustration. How did I let it happen? I lay back and take a deep breath and look up at the ceiling. My life was planned, my future paved for years, until the captain of the football team crept into my heart just to break it. Who does that? Maybe he hasn't changed. Maybe he was always the indifferent guy he is now and I only saw the mask he was wearing. Maybe it was all a show, and the lead actor decided to quit. Decided not to get stuck at twenty-one with a woman and a child, while all his friends graduated from college and built careers. That's what he did, after all, built himself a successful business and an over sized bank account.
With the fatigue that has been with me for days, I get up from bed, leave my memories behind, turn off the light and go down the stairs. It's time to return to the present, as painful and frustrating as it is.
For the next hour, I make a supreme effort to avoid any conversation that might spill over into subjects I don't want to talk about, ignoring the glances and whispers directed at me. Mrs. Errlis must have told all her friends how Darlene's daughter spoke to her, and now they have something more to gossip about. Vivian plays with the neighbors' dog, who didn't bother to tie him up at home, instead letting him run around everyone's legs.
My daughter looks happy, unaware of the fact that her life is going to change beyond recognition. She pulls the leash around the dog's neck, ignores her white dress and rolls with him on the grass. I don't say anything even when it fills up with green stains that can't be removed.
The dress is lost, almost as I am.
"So you're taking him to court?" My father's voice surprises me from behind and destroys my plans not to talk about my ex.
"I'm not sure yet," I mumble without looking at him, not taking my eyes off Vivian.
"What are you waiting for?" He comes to stand beside me.
"I'm not waiting, he gave me something for the time being."
"Something?" My father tenses.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars." One hell of a 'something', not that I think my father is impressed. My parents may not be the richest in the country, but I am pretty sure that here and there they have a savings plan or two. After all, they help me, and quite a lot.
"Where did he get the money from?" I'm faced with another question I have no answer to. I don't seem to have a good answer to anything.
"I don't know, he's got a business, I didn't get into it," I reply coldly.
"Are you thinking about finding out?"
"I'd rather not think about it now." Or talk about it or deal with it, until I have no choice.
"Did you talk to the lawyer?"
"Yes, and I'm telling you again, I don't want to talk about it now." The last thing I need is for my father to make a fuss just because I can't answer him.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars," he says nervously.
I turn my head slowly, the look on my face dead serious. "You're not listening to what I'm saying. I don't want you to interfere, you're not part of the equation. Not you and not Mom, so stop pressuring me and let me solve the problem!"
"Frank," my mother comes out of nowhere, her sharp senses telling her that the conversation is escalating. "We ran out of beer, do you mind bringing another box from the fridge in the garage?"
"Yes, Frank," I imitate her, "do you mind bringing the beer and minding your own business?"
"'Watch your mouth," my father says angrily. "You knew well enough where to find me any time you got a call from your bank manager. If your ex-boyfriend thinks he'll show up here and take my granddaughter . . ."
"Frank," my mother doesn't let him finish, "no one is taking Vivian anywhere!"
"Who's taking me?" A small, squeaky voice makes us all look down at the girl in the stained dress, who stands before us with large curious eyes and waits for an answer.
"Grandpa thought of taking you for ice cream tomorrow." My mother saves the day.
"Yes!" Viv jumps up and claps, "I love you, Gramps."
She crashes in to him with a hug, her arms around his thighs. He leans and lifts her to him, presses her against his chest and kisses her head.
"He's just worried," my mother mouths without a sound.
"I know," I whisper back. I worry too.
My father puts Vivian back on the grass. She doesn't linger and runs back to the dog just as I spot a black jeep parked across the street. My pulse accelerates to a frightening speed when I recognize the man sitting behind the wheel looking at me and my daughter.
Our daughter.
What is he doing here? He's insane. He promised he would keep his distance. If my father sees him, all hell will break loose. I steal a quick glance at my father, who makes his way to the garage with his back to us. When my gaze returns to the jeep, our eyes lock.
Please, go.
Colin's hands are on the steering wheel. My chest goes up and down and I feel suffocated in the damned dress. I look like a clown with this make-up, my hair is a disaster, and I don't want to care about what he thinks. So why do these thoughts creep up and bring tears to my eyes? My lip begins to tremble and in a second everyone will see. He has to get out of here, now. He has to stay away from the girl who doesn't know who he is. I wonder whether to go over when the monstrous car begins to move, sliding down the street, then accelerating. The pressure in my chest refuses to release.
If he decides to make a move, I won't have any control over it. If he decides to surprise Vivian and me, I can't do anything. I really need a plan, and a good one. A plan that will restore the control of the situation to my own hands and won't let him manage me as he did in the past.
Chapter 7
I can't take my eyes off the girl with the perfect blonde hair who has been wandering around the store alongside Mr. Blunt for the last ten minutes, examining every crack in the floor. Henry stands beside me with a humiliated look, occasionally glancing at her. She catches his glances even when she is turned away, as if she has eyes in the back of her head, turning to smile and making him blush. Why is she doing this? Why does she embarrass him, when it’s obvious she has no interest in him?
"Do you think she'll fire us?" Henry whispers, after receiving another look and, if I'm not mistaken, even a wink from the blonde.
"How should I know?" I grumble nervously.
"I hope she fires me." He leaves me stunned by his statement.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's probably better than her smiles," he murmurs in frustration.
"You'll get into college and it'll be really good," I try to cheer him up.
"It'll be really good, Liz? Like it was really good in high school?" The pain in his voice strikes me like a knife.
"We're not in high school anymore."
"I'll go to college and I'll be the oldest one there."
"And the smartest. They'll beg for your help."
"Like Colin begged for your help?"
"He stood by you more than once," I remind him. Not that I think he has forgotten. Colin defended Henry, and when he did I just fell in love with him even more.
"He was a really good guy, you know, before he . . ."
"Left," I complete the sentence for him. "He was a really good guy, before he lef
t me pregnant."
"I would never do that," he looks down again, "if someone was crazy enough to want to . . ."
"Stop it." I ache at his pain. "One day someone will show interest and you'll have smart, beautiful children, and you won't leave her."
"You know as well as I do that won't happen." He chews his lip again.
"She'll come, you'll see, one day you'll come across her, and she'll be perfect."
"Danielle is perfect," he gestures awkwardly at the girl who today wears a white flapping dress that exposes a lot of thin legs.
"She's a monster," I laugh quietly.
“God, I hope she'll fire me. I hope you won't let me stay and make a fool of myself."
"You're not making a fool of yourself."
"You're nice," he whispers, "but I am making a fool of myself.”
"Someone like her should wish for you to want her."
"She must be eating men for breakfast." He laughs quietly.
"Spreads them like butter on toast," I happily agree.
"I'd love to be spreaded—” his hand leaps to his mouth as he open his eyes.
"Henry?" I don't know how to react to his burst of enthusiasm.
"I'm twenty-six, Liz, we both know I’ve never—”
"You don't want to be spread with Danielle," I insist.
"Easy for you to say. Colin and you must have been spreading everywhere. I remember how you used to look at him."
"And look where it got me," I point out.
"I'm willing to let her throw me away when we're finished." He laughs quietly again.
"No you're not." I shut up as the blonde and Mr. Blunt approach us.
"Elizabeth," Mr. Blunt turns to me, making my body tense. "Henry, I believe you've met Mrs. Cole."
"Yes," I reply coldly.
"Elizabeth." She hands me her hand again. Reluctantly, I shake it quickly.
"Mrs. Cole," I emphasize her name formally.
"Danielle," she corrects me. "Hello, Henry."
"Hello." He blushes beside me.
"Mrs. Cole and I are just summarizing the final details." Mr. Blunt takes the trouble to let us know.
"I promise we'll update you as soon as we can." She smiles at the two of us, her phone ringing. "If you'll excuse me."
"Of course," Mr. Blunt puts on the widest smile I have ever seen. Danielle takes the phone out of her bag and sends Henry another look, the only purpose of which is to make him blush. I stop myself from rolling my eyes as she walks to the door, the phone at her ear.
"Danielle Cole," I can hear her say, closing the door behind her.
"I assume the deal will close in the next few days," Mr. Blunt returns to the main issue.
"What about us?" I ask hesitantly. "She's going to fire us, right?"
"I'm sorry," he sounds sincere, "I don't know what the plans are."
"Wonderful," I sigh.
"I'll be in my office." Mr. Blunt leaves Henry and me standing in the empty shop like two fools who don't know what to do.
"She’s so out of my league." Henry finds it difficult to take his eyes off the door. As though if he looks at it long enough, Danielle Cole will come back inside.
"She would be lucky to be in your league."
"We have to go out."
"Danielle and you?" I'm horrified by the thought.
"You and I," he laughs," go out for dinner and pretend we're not the poor ones nobody wants."
And so, without warning, he sticks another knife in my heart. The poor one nobody wants. When was the last time someone asked me out? Probably a year ago. There was that guy, Jonathan. We went out to dinner, after my mother insisted and took Vivian over to her house. He was nice and polite, the kind who opens doors and pays for everything. The kind that laughs even when you're not really funny. But he had nothing interesting to say. We talked about my work and then about his. He was thirty-eight, his parents had died years ago, and for a moment I felt old. I felt like that was what I deserved, a guy in a suit who kissed me every morning, walked out the door with his leather briefcase, but never stirred my heart. The same heart that had trembled before. At that moment I remembered how it felt. How those butterflies floated in my stomach every night before I fell asleep. I remembered how another man's hand held me to his chest just after he was inside me, I remembered his kisses. And I hated him at that moment, hated him for not being forgotten, for disappearing and leaving behind a memory that my scarred body remembers. I hated my love and his lies and his breath on my skin, and I couldn't let a man whom I'll never love like that take his place. I left my broken heart locked in a box, protected from harm, faithful to the boy I loved and hated and thought I'd lost. And now the boy is back, but the lock has rusted and the key I threw away. The boy is back, and I am terrified he'll break my daughter's heart.
The door to the store opens and my mother stands in the doorway, panting and with disheveled hair, as if she's been running from the car.
"Where's your phone?" she manages to ask. "Get in the car!"
"What happened?" Pure panic overwhelms me.
"Viv fell, she's in the ambulance." I can't breathe. I quickly bend under the counter and pull my bag hysterically, throwing glances at Henry.
"Go!" he hurries me. I run after my mom to the car, fasten my seatbelt and open my bag in search of my phone.
"It was on mute?" I mutter, confused. "It's never . . ." How could I be so irresponsible?
"It doesn't matter now, Mrs. Robbins is with Viv."
"What happened?"
"She fell. That's all I know."
I stare out the window and try not to think the worst. If something happens to her . . . no, she has to be all right. She must be fine, because if she isn't, what would I do? The loneliness of the thought overwhelms me. Again I'm dealing with everything by myself, like the day she was born and all the days since then. She is my world, morning and night and everything in between. The best thing that has ever happened to me, and now something has happened to her, and I'm not by her side. She must be frightened and crying, and I'm not there to hug her. She needs me, and if my mother doesn't press the gas, I'll go crazy.
The ride doesn't take more than ten minutes. My nausea increases, my hands tremble. I focus on my breathing. In. Out. In. The car screeches in front of the emergency room and I burst through the doors, running to the front desk.
"Vivian Hart," I pant in front of the receptionist. "I'm her mother."
"The doctor is with her now. The nurse will take you to see them."
She gestures to a nurse in a white uniform and asks her to accompany me to the examination room. Inside, I find Vivian sitting on Mrs. Robbins' knee, crying. Her teacher holds a bandage on her forehead, from which a bloodstain emerges.
"Mama," she holds out her arms to me and I gather her up and hug her tightly. The bandage stays in Mrs. Robbins' hand, and now I can see the cut, right at her hair line.
"Oh, God, what happened?" I hurry to take the gauze and hold it tight against the cut.
"She fell and hit the corner of the table." Mrs. Robbins looks shaken.
"Are you in pain?" I put some pressure on the wound that is still bleeding.
"Yes," Vivian sobs.
"I know. You're so brave." I kiss her head gently.
"Mrs. Heart?" A young doctor appears in the doorway, a stethoscope hanging around his neck. His face is much calmer than mine, I can safely say.
"Yes," I reply. He walks in, and Mrs. Robbins vacates her chair, gesturing for me to take a seat.
"I have to go back to work," she apologizes. "I'll call you."
"I'll keep you posted," I promise. She closes the door behind her and leaves me with the doctor and the four-and-a-half-year-old girl who is relaxing in my arms.
"I'm Dr. Diaz. Please, have a seat," he gestures to the empty chair. I don't hesitate and sit down opposite him. His doctor's robe looks especially white against the background of his olive skin. "I checked Vivian." He smiles at her warmly, his dark eyes shining as he s
peaks in a calm, confident voice. "She was a true heroine, but I'm afraid she will need stitches. We will numb the area first so she won’t feel a thing.."
He wants to stitch her? I must be paling because the young doctor is quick to reassure me by putting his hand on my knee.
"Vivian is in good hands. Is there anyone you want to call?"
"No," I answer automatically. My heart drops, and I hurry to regain my composure. "My mother is here."
"We'll give Vivian something that will numb her a bit and we'll go from there."
I nod without being able to speak.
"Are you sure you're all right?" He pushes back a strand of brown hair that falls on his forehead. I nod again.
"My head hurts . . ." Viv mumbles into my shoulder.
"I know, I know, sweetheart, the doctor will take care of you," I promise and kiss her hair. She's all I've got, and when she's hurting, I feel like I'm hurting too. I'm not even sure there's room for anyone else, not at all sure that a stranger will understand the connection between us. Maybe that's why I chose to stay alone?
Our doctor leaves the room and my arms wrap my child into a hug. If only I could protect her better. If only I could lock her out of the world that is about to change forever…
Vivian sleeps. Her body looks tiny on the hospital bed. I stroke her hair, four stitches on her forehead. I allow myself to cry silently, allowing tears to flow. My mother went to fetch coffee, and the tension of the last hour finds his way out in the quiet room. I pull my phone out of my bag and dial.
"Elizabeth?" Colin sounds surprised.
"That's why I hate you," I whimper. "That's what I've been through in the past five years, when you were gone."
"What happened?" His voice sounds panicked.
"Vivian's in the hospital. Do you feel your heart accelerating?" It must be the meanest thing I could say to him.
"What happened to her?"
"Do you feel helpless, Colin?"
"What happened to her?" he shouts.
"She fell and they stitched her forehead." He can shout all he wants.
"Why didn't you call me?"
"Because you're not her father, you're nobody to her." I look at the girl lying on the bed. "You were supposed to be the one who protects her, but you couldn't even comfort her, you wouldn’t know how."
