by Colbie Kay
During the last few months, I have mended my relationship with my mom. Surprisingly, she has been supportive of me and my decisions. She took my words to heart and really started to be there for me. I just wish I could say the same for my dad, but I’m holding out hope for when the baby actually arrives. I hope he will come around and love his grandchild.
So much has happened since I visited Tucker in jail. I tried to get the state to drop the charges, even going as far as lying for him, but they did nothing more than decrease the severity from statutory rape to indecent liberties with a child. He may have done wrong, but who wants the father of their child to go to prison, especially when it was consensual? At least, that is what I keep telling myself–that I wanted to be with him. I told him no at first, but ultimately, I let him do it. I had to go to court and testify, which was the hardest day of my life. I tried to tell them I wouldn’t do it, but they threatened to take my baby away from me and put me in State’s custody. My mom cried but stayed quiet. My father…well, he let them say whatever they wanted to me. Because of me, Tucker is being sent to prison for a period of time. I feel guilty, and it’s this reason I no longer talk to my father. If we do speak, it turns to an argument, therefore, I try to avoid him as much as possible, but I can see the strain it’s putting on Mom. Like I said, I’m still holding out hope, but he’s seems focused on getting revenge on Tucker and never letting me forget the bad choices I’ve made. I’m beyond hurt by my dad, and sometimes, I do wonder if maybe he’s said too much or done too much that our relationship is beyond repair. I guess time will tell, but he’s still my father, and somewhere deep down inside both of us, the love is still there. We’re just clouded with storms right now.
I feel a cold breeze hit my face as I'm lying in bed almost asleep. "P?" Julien's quiet voice has me opening my eyes. I smile at the sound and his use of my nickname “P”. It’s been a few months since he started using the name again, and it’s been just like old times. Julien has become my rock.
"Are they fighting again?" I ask groggily. He’s been coming over more and more lately, but I don’t mind, in fact, I find myself liking it a lot.
"No." He steps closer to my bed. "Scoot over.” When my back hits the wall, Julien pulls the covers down and climbs in with me. "How was today?" Ever since that night outside when he said he would be here for me, he hasn't let me down. He’s the only one who hasn’t disappointed me throughout this whole ordeal.
I shrug my shoulder. "Besides hearing I'm not really pregnant because no one sees my belly, and in the grocery store someone telling me they know of a great adoptive family, it wasn't too bad."
He takes a deep breath. "It's going to get better." He lifts his hand and moves the strands of hair from my face. “Before long, we won’t fit in this bed together.” He chuckles quietly.
My lips lift into a half-grin as my eyes travel from his down to his lips and back up. That crush I had on him in the past is definitely back and stronger than ever as are those pesky feelings of love. I can never tell him that because he only thinks of me as his friend. His pregnant friend whom he feels sorry for.
"Yeah." I yawn. I try not to let what anyone says affect me anymore, but it's hard. Some days, it’s harder than others.
Julien lays his hand on my extended belly, the one I keep hidden from the world. "Maybe you should quit hiding your belly. You’re five months pregnant now, let them see and prove to everyone they’re all stupid assholes."
I pucker my lips. "I figure when my coat doesn't fit anymore, they'll see."
Julien leans closer and presses his lips against my forehead. "Night, P."
"Night, J." I roll over to face the wall, and the light sounds of Julien singing lulls me to sleep. I love the sound of his voice.
I haven’t seen my Pawpaw since right after I made the decision to keep the baby, that was when I was ten weeks pregnant, now, I’m twenty-seven weeks. My mom felt it was best if we wait to tell the whole family until after I had decided for sure. He didn’t look very well the last time I saw him, and now, he’s only gotten worse. Truth be told, it terrified me to see him with his health deteriorating.
Mom holds my cheeks in her hands, and our eyes connect. "Poppy, don't be scared of going in there. Keep in mind that he doesn’t really remember who anyone is."
I blink away my tears. How could he not remember us? How could he not remember me? I nod, putting on a front of being strong, but what I really want to do is run far away from this hospital. I want to go back to when I was eight-years-old and picking watermelons with my best friend.
"Okay." I take a deep breath and lay my hand on my belly, which everyone can see clear as day now since I’ve gained so much weight.
She releases my cheeks, and I spin around to face the closed door. My hands tremble with fear as I push down on the handle. It’s quiet except for the sounds of beeping machines and the pounding of my pulse in my ears. I continue trying my hardest to be strong, but I'm breaking. Slowly, I step closer to the side of his hospital bed, and my eyes travel over him. My Pawpaw, my best friend, is no longer the man I remember. Tears spill down my cheeks, there is no willing them away any longer.
The man I remember always wore white undershirts with blue jeans rolled at the ankles with a black belt to hold them up and his black slip-on shoes. He would sit in his rocking chair with his shaking hand resting on his extended belly. Today, mine matches what his used to be. But this man, the one lying in the hospital bed, has pale sunken cheeks and pasty white skin which is hanging from his frail bones. He’s lost so much weight that even his belly is gone.
I blow out a deep breath, trying to steel myself and step closer. Reaching out, I take his cold, fragile hand in mine. His skin is wrinkled yet feels so thin. I can feel every bone as I run my thumb across the top of his hand.
Gaining courage, I quietly say, "Pawpaw."
His head slowly turns toward me. He stares at me for a moment, and I do my best to lift my lips into a smile. "Pop-Pop." My name comes out as nothing more than a whisper, but it was enough. He knows it’s me.
My grin widens as tears flow down my cheeks. "It's me, Pawpaw."
His hold on my hand tightens a fraction. "I'm going home, Pop-Pop." His voice is quiet yet confident.
I nod enthusiastically and chuckle. "Yeah, you will. You just need to get better first."
He reaches over with his other hand and lays it on top of our already joined hands. "I'm not going to get better, Poppy, I'm going home to be with the angels."
The smile drops from my face, and my lips quiver as I begin to cry harder. "No, Pawpaw. Don't leave me!" I beg.
"I love you," He tells me as a tear trails down his cheek. His eyes move to my belly. “I want you to know I love that baby growing inside of you and, Pop-Pop, you’re going to be a great mother. I just wish I would have been able to meet my first great-grandchild.”
My throat begins to close, and it’s hard for me to breathe. "I love you too, Pawpaw.” I barely get the words out through the sobs that are engulfing me.
His eyes close, and his breathing deepens. Letting go of his hand, I race out of his room. My family is standing outside in the hallway. Each of them is looking at me with their own glistening eyes.
"Mom, take me home," I demand.
I rush to my room as best as I can after we pull into the driveway. I still have the mason jar he gave me when I was eight-years-old sitting on my shelf. Reaching up, I pull it down and take it outside, waiting for night to fall. As soon as the fireflies start to appear, I try to capture them, catching as many as I can.
"P, what are you doing?" Julien yells from next door.
I ignore him and continue with my mission. He comes over and watches as I fill the jar. I suddenly stop, breathless, and fall to the ground.
Julien sits with me. “I’ve seen you do this so many times, but you’ve never told me why.”
Tears blur my vision as I begin to recount the memory. "When I was eight, my Pawpaw taught me to catch as man
y fireflies as I can. Then, I close my eyes and make a wish.” I do it as I'm telling him, and I wish for my Pawpaw to stay here on this earth.
My eyes drift open, and I take the lid off the jar. "Once you make your wish, you let the fireflies go, and your wish will come true. That’s what my Pawpaw told me."
Curiosity is written across his face. "What did you wish for?"
"I wished Pawpaw will get better and not die." Tears begin to fall once again.
"Oh, Poppy." Julien's arms wrap around me as I cry again. "We don't have control over that."
JULIEN WAS RIGHT. A few days later, Pawpaw went home to be with the angels.
Sitting outside in my black dress, I stare at nothing. People, most of whom I don’t know, touch my shoulder as they head to their cars. I don’t understand why Mom wanted to have all these people come to our house after the funeral. Why do people want to eat after someone is buried? Peering down, I lay my hand on my belly. “I wish you could have met him. He was the greatest man I have ever known.”
“P?” My gaze shifts up to meet Julien’s.
I try to muster a smile, but it’s difficult. “Hey.”
“Hey.” He stares down at the ground while kicking his foot. “I’m sorry about your grandpa.”
“Thanks.” I notice he’s holding a mason jar. “Why do you have that?”
He holds it out to me, his eyes meeting mine again. “The sun is setting, and I wanted to make a wish.”
“Okay.” Standing up, I follow him out to the yard.
I sit down and lean my back against a tree trunk. Once the fireflies begin lighting up the darkness, I watch as he races to catch them all, almost laughing at the sight of him running all over the yard.
He sits down next to me. "What did you wish for?" I ask once his eyes open, and he begins setting them free.
His gaze searches mine under the light of the moon. "I wished to kiss you."
I suck in my breath, and my eyes widen. “You want to kiss me?”
He sits on his knees before bending forward, his face moving closer to mine. “I do.” The moment he exhales and begins to speak, I can feel his breath on my skin.
My eyes close as his lips press against mine. It’s the faintest of touches, yet so much excitement bursts within me. It’s like fireworks exploding on the Fourth of July. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I feel his tongue skim across the seam of my lips. I’ve wanted to kiss him for a long time, but I didn’t think he felt the same.
Our kiss ends, and I begin to wonder if this will change our friendship. We stare at each other, unmoving and silent. The only movement is the blinking of our eyes. Julien is the first to break the stillness. "I love you, P. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember."
I squint as my nose scrunches, and my head tilts to the side slightly. I’m trying to comprehend what he’s saying. “You love me?” I contemplate those words. Is this really happening? Does he really feel the same way about me that I feel about him? I always loved Julien, even when I tried to bottle those feelings and toss them away, they never left. I thought I loved Tucker, but that wasn’t real love, it was infatuation. As I’m thinking over the last seven months, thinking about Julien, I should have seen it. Julien was and is showing me what love really is. But has he always loved me like I’ve loved him?
He nods. “Always. I’ve always loved you, P.”
My cheeks heat as I say the words back, “I love you too.”
His eyes break contact with mine for a moment before reconnecting once again. “I have something to tell you.”
I smile in the darkness. So happy that his feelings are the same as mine. “What?”
“I’m moving.”
My heart drops. “Moving? Why?” I shake my head and continue smiling. “It’s okay. We can still see each other at school.”
“Poppy,” Julien growls my name loudly to get me to shut up. “I’m not moving across town. My dad got a job transfer. I’m moving to California.”
My heart falls into the pit of my stomach and ripped clean out of me to be thrown on the ground and stomped on a thousand times. “California,” I repeat, standing on shaky legs. “When do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
My brows shoot up, and my eyes widen. “Tomorrow,” I screech. “Why would you kiss me, tell me you love me, only to say you won’t be here anymore?” I start to stomp away without waiting for a reason. I don’t want to hear it anyway.
“We can stay in touch. Poppy?” He shouts, but I’m already opening my front door.
I’ve lost my grandpa, and now, I’ve lost Julien.
I slam my bedroom door closed and sit on the edge of my bed as tears fall and fall and fall. I cry until I collapse, sleeping.
I 'm thirty weeks pregnant today, and my baby is usually very active but not today. I’ve sat in my room for the last few hours waiting to feel some kind of movement without any results. Now, I am terrified as I wobble into the living room where my mom is sitting. "Mom?" My voice trembles as my emotions overwhelm me.
Her attention shifts from the show she’s watching to me. She must see my tears because she frowns, and I can see the concern written on her face. Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s biting her lip. "Yeah?"
"Can you take me to the hospital?"
She jumps from the couch. "What's wrong?"
"The baby isn’t moving." My voice breaks as the words spill out. I’m trying to stay calm, and I’m praying everything is okay, but I feel it. I feel like something is seriously wrong.
"Let's go!"
She rushes me to the ER where I'm escorted to a room. Several people are surrounding me. They’re asking me questions and checking my vitals. They’re yelling words I don’t understand. The doctor comes in only minutes after with a sonogram machine and begins checking the baby.
His eyes drift from me to my mom and back to me, his expression somber. "Poppy, there's no heartbeat."
I shake my head and frown in confusion. "What?"
My mom gasps and squeezes my hand harder, hers shaking along with mine.
"I'm sorry, Poppy." He says as if it’s just another day for him.
I don’t understand. Sorry? What's happening? I can't comprehend what he's telling me. "You're going to have to deliver the baby. I'm going to give you some medicine which will induce labor, but when the baby is out, it’s going to be stillborn."
I stare at the machine in shock.
I can’t speak.
I can’t think.
I can’t breathe.
Mom talks for me through her sobs. “Stillborn? How? How did this happen?”
“The ultrasound shows that the cord has wrapped itself around the baby’s neck.”
“Mom.” I jerk on her hand, lifting my tear-filled eyes to hers. “I can’t do this.”
Her palms cup my cheeks. “I’m going to be right there with you, and we will do this together. You are strong, Poppy, and we have to be the strongest we’ve ever been right now.”
I nod in her hands as my tears keep flowing. I close my eyes as I embrace the pain and silently beseech anyone who might hear my request, ‘I know I said I didn't want this, but I do. I really, really do. I will be a good mother, I promise, but please don't let that wish come true! I didn't mean it! I was just scared. Please give me back my baby! I wish for my baby. I wish for my baby. I wish for my baby.’
"Poppy?" Mom’s voice is next to my ear. "I'm so sorry." Her shoulders shake from her own sobs.
"I can't, Mom, I can't lose my baby." I wale in the now empty room.
She kisses my temple and pulls my head to her chest as we continue to cry together.
A FEW HOURS LATER, I delivered a beautiful baby girl. They wrapped her in a pink blanket and handed her still body to me.
My brothers rushed here earlier and came in with my father. They all appeared haggard and in shock.
My father bent down beside my bed and took my hands in his. Water filled his gaze as he stared into my own pooling eyes. He said, �
��Poppy, I’m so sorry. I have been the worst father to you, and I’ve said some terrible things, but I didn’t want this.” His head shakes, and his hands tremble in mine. “You’re my baby. I was just so angry that someone hurt my baby, and now, you’ve lost yours. This is all my fault. I love you so damn much. We’re going to get through this as a family. I should have said that to you before, and I’ll never forgive myself.”
I didn’t have the strength to reply, this wasn’t the time anyway. I wanted this time to be about my daughter. Everyone took turns holding her and saying their goodbyes. Mom took photos of each person embracing her, but now, it’s just me, Mom, and Serenity–that’s what I named her.
She looks like a little doll in my arms. She’s perfect. Her eyes are closed, and it makes it appear as if she's sleeping, dreaming about things only babies do, but that’s the furthest thing from the truth. "I'm sorry," I cry, kissing her forehead. Unwrapping the blanket, I run my finger over her tiny hand then move down to her little foot. Her toes and fingers are so small. I touch her little head before passing her to Mom. We take more photos, capturing every memory we can of her. Mom gives her back to me.
The nurse enters my room, and I know it’s time, but I can’t let her go. I can’t. I may have survived after my Pawpaw left, and I may have weathered losing Julien, but my baby...I will never—
"Poppy, we have to take her now," The nurse says the words I dreaded hearing.
"No!" I scream as sobs rack my body. "Please don't take her," I beg and plead.
"I'm sorry, but we have to." The nurse attempts to pry her out of my arms, but I hold on for dear life.
Mom, through her own anguish, tries to help the nurse. "Poppy, you have to let her go."
"No! I can't!" I scream.
The nurse calls for the doctor, and when he comes running into my room, they hold me down as he pushes a needle into my arm. Every limb attached to my body feels like jello. They easily take her from me as my eyes quickly begin to close, and my body sinks further and further into the bed.
