Never Forever (6 page)

A quiet sense of peace floats throughout the room as my mind dances around the reality of being a mother. As I silently soak in all the details of Noah’s face I can hear boisterous cries of joy from the people in the room next to me. The myriad of elated comments piercing through the wall sends a sensation of tremendous loneliness to conquer my mind. All the comments seem to be coming from family members who are completely overjoyed for the blest couple.

This is a joyous day for me also, but there is no one here to share it with. Out of my peripheral vision I notice the phone sitting ominously on the night-stand. Trying to fight the urge to call, I begin debating with myself as to how ridiculous I am being.

Instantly I hear a low voice coming from the room next door stating enthusiastically, “I am the luckiest bloke right now. I have a beautiful wife who just blessed me with a handsome baby boy.” Their room erupts with roaring cheers, causing my internal debate to end.

Grabbing hold of the phone I begin mindlessly dialing. The chance of her even answering the phone is slim to none, but I need to at least try. The anxiety pulsing throughout me increases as the phone feels like it is ringing for eternity. Just as I am about to hang up, the ringing stops and a gruff woman’s voice states firmly, “What kind of idiot calls me this early in the morning? Someone better be dead!”

Immediately I remember the time difference, realizing it is about 5:00 o’clock in the morning. Trying to buffer the shock, I quietly respond, “Hi, mom.”

“Who is this?” her voice has a hint of irritation to it as she slurs out the words.

“It’s me, Breanna.”

“What the hell? Why are you calling me? Please don’t tell me you are in jail,” her jumbled speech compliments her foul mouth perfectly.

“No mom, that is your area of expertise,” I state coldly, remembering all the times I got a call from her in the middle of the night stating she was in jail, and could I come bail her out.

“Did you just call to remind me of how much of a lousy mother I am? If so, then at least give me the decency of allowing me to pour myself a stiff drink first.”

Alcohol has always been my mom’s first and only love in her life. Every memory I have of my mother always involved her being drunk or getting drunk. The inconsistency of where we lived or what job she had, was the only consistency in my life. The small glimpses of sobriety were either court-ordered or child protective service-induced. When she is sober she is a completely different person. There were a few times she really tried to be the kind of mother she knew she should be, working two jobs to pay the bills and give me everything she thought I needed. But all I wanted was a stable mother, something she couldn’t give me longer than a few months here and there. When she would go through one of her binges I would usually leave, running to the only person I could trust. I could go for months without even talking to her and she wouldn’t even realize I was gone. I haven’t seen or talked to my mother for a year now and she has no idea. It is as if her brain has been pickled by the alcohol, affecting the way her mind now works. She has no concept of time or reality.

Wanting to get off the subject of alcohol and her parenting skills, or lack thereof, I utter, “I am sorry for the rude statement. I just called to tell you that you are a grandmother.”

“You had a baby?”

“Yes. I just gave birth to a beautiful little boy, today.”

“Who is the little bastard’s father?” she blatantly states.

I can almost smell the alcohol through the phone. What am I thinking, calling her? I am an idiot. I just wanted to have what the family next to me is experiencing, someone excited about Noah’s birth. My anger and disappointment towards my mother pushes out. “He is not a bastard child! You know nothing about me or my life anymore. All you care about is where your bottles of vodka and gin are. I just wanted to talk to my mom and attempt to share in this celebration. But I can see I am asking way too much from you. I am sorry for disturbing your hangover respite, but look at it this way, you can now continue drinking. Good-bye.”

My loud and disdainful conversation causes Noah to wake up, immediately realizing he is starving to death. Freeing his source of food from my hospital gown, I begin feeding him. Looking down into his sweet face I utter softly, “I am at least excited you are here.”

My breathing is beginning to return to its normal rhythm. That is a conversation I don’t ever want to have again. I cannot let her in anymore. I have to come to grips with the fact that the mother within my dreams never existed. My mother is a constant disappointment, hurting me too severely for someone my age to handle. I have already experienced way too much for an eighteen year old, I don’t need my mother’s problems also. It looks like it is just me and Noah, and I am okay with that.

Suddenly there is a soft tap on my hospital room door. Trying not to disturb Noah I whisper, “Come in.”

“Well, now I know what kind of a bloody friend you are. I may have been the first person here in England you told about being pregnant, but I had to find out about your delivery from my brother,” Olivia sarcastically states, as she comes walking in carrying a small bouquet of blue flowers.

I have never been so excited to see someone as I am to see her. Her beaming take-no-prisoner attitude is such a sharp contrast to her beauty and petite features. But even more shocking is how her tough attitude is such a sharp contrast from her loving and compassionate nature.

An immediate elated sensation washes over me, “Olivia, I am so glad you are here. I’m not alone now.”

A large smile spreads across her face, “Of course you are not alone. You have me, remember?”

The Space Between Us

We sit in the cab outside of my flat, preparing to enter my new world, “Olivia, it is nice enough that you brought Noah and me home from the hospital. But you didn’t need to buy me a car seat also. I could have bought one myself.”

Her eyes narrow as she tilts her head slightly, adding, “Not blooming likely. When would you have had the chance to get one? Were you just planning on leaving Noah in the hospital while you run out and purchase a car seat? They would have never let you leave without one.”

She definitely has a way of pointing out the obvious. A huge smile spreads across my face as I stare at her in complete appreciation, “I could have never made it through this without you.”

A quizzical smile dances in the corners of her mouth as she searches my eyes for a deeper answer, “And who else?”

I know what she wants me to say, but the anger I feel for him and the embarrassment I feel towards myself is still fresh in my mind. He literally carried me through my labor and delivery, but what happened afterwards left me feeling confused and disappointed with the both of us. It is the first time I have felt something in a long time. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to help me through it, but how he just shut me off after we kissed left me feeling like a piece of useless trash. The look in his eyes held an enormous amount of regret, causing me to feel like I had just committed adultery. The resonating sickness and humiliation is still spinning within me.

Looking away from Olivia I refuse to answer her. I highly doubt Callum told her anything about our kiss. I am sure he is disgusted with it and would prefer to keep the surreptitious kiss private. I am not even sure how I feel about it. Conundrums of emotions roll around within me. I teeter-totter between feeling ashamed and feeling an undeniable gravitational pull towards him. It is like a schoolgirl crush on steroids. The angrier I get at myself the more my mind replays the entire event. I can still feel his firm, protective arms around me as he rushes to meet the ambulance. I can hear his gentle, warm commands encouraging me through the whole process. He never left my side. I saw such a compassionate part of him, which left me with a resonating feeling of coming home again. But after we kissed I was only left to feel like a used rag, dirty. Looking up at her I utter, “What are you talking about?”

“Bloody Hell! What happened? Both you and Callum are tight lipped about the details.”

Immediately I look up at her, “What did he tell you?”

“Just that you went into labor right after your lecture and he went with you to the hospital. He told me he was able to witness the most miraculous event. I have never seen Callum look so happy and exhausted at the same time. And that is saying a lot.”

“Well, if that is all he told you, then he divulged everything.” Opening the cab door I grab the handle of the car seat, awkwardly getting out of the cab. Turning to say goodbye to Olivia I notice she is now standing next to me, paying the cabbie for his service. “What are you doing? You don’t need to walk me into my flat too.”

Completely ignoring me she grabs some of my things, proceeding to walk into the building as if she knows exactly where she is going. I watch her quizzically as she walks towards the correct flat. A strange sense of fear rushes through me. She has never been to my flat before. How does she know where I live? “Olivia, how did you know which flat is mine?”

A huge smile spreads across her face as she beckons me with a quick sideways nod to come and follow her. Hesitation rolls up my back, causing the hair on my arms to stand straight up. A hint of something mischievous lingers in the corners of her smile. My feet are like lead anchoring me to this very spot. I am not about to move until I know how she found out where I live.

Olivia notices my trepidation and calls out, “Breanna, stop being ridiculous, I am your friend, not a bloody stalker. I will tell you how I know which flat is yours, but first you need to come in.

Resolving to trust her I walk over to my door and open it up. Disbelief washes over me as I stand in the doorway in complete shock. Immense heat forming in my chest explodes out, causing tears to freely flow. I have never seen anything so beautiful. There in one corner of my tiny flat is a spectacular oak crib fully decorated in a soft blue palette. Every piece of furniture has been arranged to flawlessly fit within my tiny space. On one side of the crib is a matching dark oak dresser. Flanking the opposite side is a beautiful light blue club chair. The quality of the furniture is something I could never have afforded but have dreamed about.

This act of incredible kindness I have never experienced before. My heart swells with emotion as I take in this act of love. Closing my eyes tightly I try to fight back the flowing tears, but it is to no avail. I have always had to struggle for just the basic necessities in life, never thinking I would ever be able to have something so beautiful for my son. To save on money, I was just planning on purchasing a portable crib.

Grabbing the handle to the infant car seat I carry sleeping Noah into the flat. As I approach the miraculous gift I notice all the intricately carved details to the crib and dresser. These pieces look as if they stepped right out of history. The antique quality to each piece shows they have come from nobility. The elaborate carvings on each piece of furniture show that a skillful woodworker took his time in cutting each piece. On the inside of the headboard is carved a family crest bearing a capital H in the middle of it. My fingertips gently stroke the top rail, tracing every shape and detail etched into the wood.

The soft blue and white toile bedding fits the vintage feel flawlessly. Plush bumper pads encircle the inner edges of the crib, ending perfectly on top of the layers of toile pattern and checkered bed skirt. Thrown over the side rail is a plush blanket awaiting the use of its future inhabitant.

As I look at this unfathomable gift I mumble in a soft, tearful voice, “Thank you, Olivia. Thank you.”

Olivia’s hand gently wraps around mine, “Don’t thank me. This was all Callum’s idea.”

Instant shock pierces my mind, causing chills to race throughout my body. Confusion flusters me, making it nearly impossible to talk. “What? I don’t understand. This was Callum’s idea? Why?” I stammer out.

“Callum told me that before he left the hospital he got your address off of the hospital records and then drove to your flat. He had someone let him into…”

“Who?” I interrupt, “And how?”

“God knows. That boy is so smooth he can probably talk the queen into giving him her crown.” A large, proud smile spreads across her face, “He is a perfect combination of power and persuasion. Once he finally knows what he wants, neither Heaven nor Hell will be able to stop him from getting it.”

A soft laugh exhales through my nose as I recall his forceful conversation with the paramedics. He was going to get in the ambulance with me and there was nothing they could do to stop it. There is a definite persuasive air to him.

“So you are going to have to ask him the details about how he actually got in. But once he was in he noticed you had nothing prepared for when you brought your baby home.” Walking over to the top portion of the crib she gently traces the crest engraved into the ornate oak crib. “You know, your baby must have made quite an impression on him.”

I watch as she strokes the crib. Her voice had lowered to a contemplative tone, one that I had not yet heard in her before.

“What do you mean?” I ask, completely confused by her statement. The only impression I thought I left him with was one of shame and embarrassment.

Turning towards me she states, “This isn’t just any crib set, this was Callum’s. It has been in our family for generations.”

Disbelief and shock floods my body as I try to understand why he would let Noah use his crib set. “Why would he do this?” I utter softly under my breath. Everything about him confuses me on a profound level. I can’t figure him out. One minute he is arguing with me and then the next he kisses me, followed by ignoring me, then becoming my hero, kissing me again, running away, and now this. I was beginning to get comfortable with hating him, but now all the emotions I had for him in the hospital return. A warm sensation invades my entire body, causing a tingling feeling to rush through me.

“He had it brought over to your flat. Then he asked me to help him pick out a baby set for the crib.” She turns towards me, revealing a softer side. Usually her breathtaking looks are encased within a shell of sarcasm and spitfire. But this time her true beauty shines forth, unprotected and vulnerable, “I hope you like it.”

Uncontrolled tears stream down my face. “Like it. I absolutely love it.” My gruff voice muffles as a multitude of emotions flood my body.

Olivia tenderly wraps her arm around me. Pulling me closer to her she utters softly, “Then why are you crying?”

Using the back of my hand like a napkin I begin aggressively wiping the tears away. “There are so many reasons. Most of them you wouldn’t understand, but there is one I am completely confused about.”

“What do you mean?”

Trepidation rolls deep within my gut. I have no idea how to tell her and when I do, what is she going to think? If I don’t even comprehend what is going on, how can I expect her to know? My mind and heart seem to be battling over what they feel is right. My heart is telling me no, to hold onto what is true and right, but my mind is telling me that it is okay to feel again. But I am no longer a single person anymore who can make mistakes and have them only affect me. I now bring a child along on this rollercoaster of life. I have no idea if Callum is just looking for fun, but my only way of finding out is to tell Olivia. Turning towards Olivia I look into her eyes and just spit it out, “Callum and I kissed.”

“I know, but when you slapped him I think he got the picture,” she states, with an air of confusion dancing on the tips of each word.

“No, we kissed again in the hospital. But this time I kissed him back. I don’t know why. Maybe it was just the intense situation we both were in, but there was something to the kiss. But…” Hesitation swirls within my mouth as I notice Olivia’s shocked expression. Her eyes are about as wide as her mouth, causing a sick, shameful sensation to curdle my stomach.

“Bloody Hell!” is the first thing out of her mouth, then after a long pause she asks questionably, “We are talking about my arse of a brother, right?”

“Yes.” I state, in a slow, reassuring way.

“Well, that explains all of this,” she affirms, as she points towards the beautiful gift he left for me to discover. Turning back towards me, she looks deep in my eyes. “But I thought you hated him.”

“I do…I did…I don’t know. I thought I did, but when we were in the hospital together he revealed a part of himself that reminds me of someone I miss.” Turning my back to Olivia I continue, “I needed him at that time and he was not about to leave me. There was a bond formed between us…so I thought.”

“What do you mean, so you thought?”

Turning back towards Olivia I notice she is now sitting in the club chair leaning forward, listening to me intently. Her eyes are no longer as wide as saucers, but instead they are now narrow with a deep furrow between them. A distorted twist to her face reveals a curious misunderstanding, as if she is cognizant of some sort of information I am missing.

“Well, after we kissed everything changed. He looked at me with an expression of regret and became very cold and distant. At a moment when I should have felt joy, he made me feel cheap. I should have trusted my first impression and avoided him like the plague.”

My tears begin to flow freely, again. Sorrow rips through my heart, slashing at whatever pieces I have left. I can’t take anymore loss. The weight of the past year pushes down on me, causing me to collapse under the enormous pressure. Damned up emotions explode within me like flood waters destroying everything within their grasp. I have been successfully able to run from my pain and tragedy until now. It is funny how something so immature and meaningless can break down the wall I have successfully built around my heart.

Burying my head in my hands I begin to release my internal pain and suffering. My breathing vibrates against my chest from the sobbing motion I am making. A soft, warm hand presses gently against my back. “If I could, I would kill my brother, but you need to understand something about him first.”