?I’m sorry.”
She gives her head a shake. “Don’t be. We knew for a long time it was coming.”
“What was his name?”
“Elijah.”
The name shocks me for a moment, but I manage to keep the surprise off my face.
“I think that’s a fine name for a boy.” The lie tastes sour on my tongue, but I don’t want to insult her or her father’s name.
She’s back to smiling again, and I breath a little easier. Her eyes begin to droop, giving away her exhaustion.
“Why don’t you try to get some sleep?” When she starts to protest, I cut her off. “Susan will wake you when the baby’s ready for you. You lost a lot of blood and need as much rest as you can get to rebuild your strength.”
I can tell she still doesn’t want to give in, but thankfully, after several seconds, she nods. A minute later, her eyes are closed and she’s already asleep. Her rest will be short because both her and the bed needs to be cleaned, but I’m glad she’s getting what she can right now.
Leaving mother behind, I walk over to Susan, who’s currently scrubbing down the baby.
Elijah.
I’ve hated the name for most of my life. The irony that Remi’s father’s name is the same one I carry isn’t lost on me. It’s different when I think about the baby boy currently squirming around on the table having the same name my parents gave me. I’ve always associated that name with weakness and filth. It was what was uttered during the darkest and most painful times of my life.
Now, when I look down into a pair of curious blue eyes, it’s not disgust I feel for the tiny being who now shares my name. I don’t know what it is I feel, but it’s damn near close to gratification. He may have not been named after me, but I still feel a sense of honor that the little guy and I share something.
Reaching out, I run the pad of one of my fingers over his soft palm. As soon as I make contact, he latches onto it with a tight grip.
REMI
I LOOK DOWN AT THE little bundle in my arms wrapped in a soft blue blanket. I still can’t believe he’s here. I also can’t believe a person could hold so much love for another human being. I’ve loved this child for months, but the first time I saw him, my heart expanded so much I thought it was going to explode from my chest.
I haven’t admitted it to myself, let alone to anyone else, but I was so scared that once I delivered and saw the physical result of my rape, I’d feel resentment or shame toward my baby. Guilt ate at me for having those thoughts. The complete opposite happened though. I’m sure most parents think the same, but there’s no way a mother could love their child more than I love mine.
It’s been three days since he became a part of this world, and no matter how much I try, I can’t stop looking at him. He is singularly the most precious thing I’ve ever encountered. Thankfully, he’s got my dark brown hair and many of my facial features. I know the color of a baby’s eyes may change over time, but I’m hoping he’ll keep the blue and not turn the same brown as Phillip’s. Not that I would love him any less if he did. It’s just, Phillip doesn’t deserve to have any part of this baby.
I look up when the door whooshes open and Trouble walks in. Except for the first night, I’ve been back at Susan’s place. Ordinarily, I would have stayed at the hospital for at least another night, but Trouble said since Susan lives so close to the office, it would be fine to come back home.
Home.
It’s weird how that word seems to fit. In the short time I’ve been here, Susan’s house does feel like home.
“Hey,” Trouble says, stopping beside the bed. “How are you feeling?”
The first couple of days were exhausting. With the blood loss, delivery, and caring for a newborn, it’s no surprise I was drained.
“Much better today.”
His eyes move to Elijah. “And the little guy?”
I glance down just in time to see him yawn, his cute little mouth opening wide. It makes me laugh because he’s so adorable when he does that.
“He’s doing well.”
“Eating good?”
My nipples hurt with just the thought, and I scrunch my nose. “Yeah. Wish someone had warned me that my nipples would feel like they were falling off though.” I cringe when I realize what I just said.
He chuckles, furthering my embarrassment. “It’ll get better over time. Talk to Susan. We have some cream you can use until then.”