do? She told me she needed time to process the news and that we would discuss it when I got off work. But when I got home, she was gone. As in, she packed up all of her belongings and moved out while I was working a double shift at Precious Metals.
The only thing she left was a note on the coffee table breaking up with me. I couldn’t believe that’s how she’d end it after seven years together. I wished I’d seen that for the red flag it was. She wasn’t really breaking up with me. Not in her mind. She simply created a reason for her to be away for however long she needed to be ready to put her plan into motion.
I still don’t completely know what her plan is. She hasn’t let me see a doctor since I’ve been here, but she’s been taking some classes online and ordering whatever she needs to make sure me and the baby are healthy. She even learned how to draw blood so she could send mine in for testing. I don’t have a clue how she’s managed to arrange the tests or order the medical equipment she’s ordered, but she has. So far, everything is okay with me and the baby. I didn’t believe her at first, but she showed me the results mailed from the lab and let me open the sealed envelope each time they arrived thereafter.
Even though I know the pregnancy is going smoothly, I still can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. And I don’t care what Paige says, it’s not because I’m scared of having a baby without an epidural. Not that she ever asked me, but I wanted to deliver any children I had naturally, maybe even at home or at one of those birthing centers with the huge bathtubs. So, I don’t think that’s the reason for my anxiety.
Whatever it is, I’ve felt it from the day Paige tricked me into coming over to her new house to talk and subsequently locked me in the basement. The feeling never goes away, and it gradually grows stronger as time passes. I hope I’m wrong, and Paige is right that it’s about the pain of childbirth. I’m too scared to think of what it might mean if she’s wrong and I’m right.
Whatever happens, I hope my baby is safe, healthy, and knows how much I love him or her. And if he or she can’t be with me, I hope they’re with Bronze. He’s going to make a great father.
Heidi
Motherfucker.
I jumped to my feet and inhaled deeply, ready to roar in pain and anger, when a soft snore from the baby monitor caused me to pause. I glanced at the monitor to see Blue sleeping soundly in her baby carrier and forced myself to rein it in long enough to think about what I was doing.
Picking up the portable monitor and hurrying to the garage, I used the last bit of restraint I had to quietly close the door before I laid into the punching bag that had seen me through several deaths—my grandfather, my parents, and now my friend.
I don’t know how long I was out there, but I was covered in sweat and well beyond out of breath when I dropped to my knees and let the pain consume me.
I cried for the loss of my friend and the mother of my child, which bled into the loss of my parents and my grandfather. How was I going to raise my daughter without them? Before I knew it, I had spiraled into a dark place with no light in sight until I felt a familiar presence at my side moments before my brother's arms surrounded me.
He waited silently for me to get my shit together. When I finally did, he sat back on his heels and said, “Now that you got that out of your system, you’re going to get your ass up and go raise your daughter like the motherfucking boss you are.”
“I’m scared to death,” I confessed.
“From what I hear, every father is. Congratulations, you’re normal. Now, get the fuck up. This floor is bruising my tender ass.”
And that’s what I did.
I got the fuck up and raised my daughter.
13
I’m not going to lie; the first few weeks at home with Blue were hard, but not as hard as everyone made it out to be. I knew my take on things was different because every single