And this isn’t an emergency?I asked myself.
It wasn’t, I asserted. Evie was safe. We were safe.
“Come around after work if you want, maybe after Evie’s bedtime, if I can get her to sleep,” I said.
“Of course, I want,” she replied. “And if the Evmonster won’t sleep, I’ll lay down with her and read her some more Harry Potter, using my truly excellent voice acting skills. That’ll get her chasing those z’s.”
She sighed then, and I felt like I shared the weight of what she was feeling.
“I’m not going to ask what you want to do, but just know, when you’re ready, I’m in your corner, always.”
“Thanks, Soph…” The tears seeped through then, dammit, and I brushed them away roughly with my spare hand.
“I can come early, Lils—”
“After work,” I insisted in a soggy voice. “I’ll see you then.”
And with that, I shoved the device back in my pocket, then pressed my hands against the glass. My daughter was a cyclone, tearing through the room, screaming and crying and howling in a way that made my hair stand up on end. But right when I thought she would never stop, Evie flopped down onto the mass of torn up pillows, just lying there for a second before turning over slowly and snuggling into the mess.
“I need to go in now,” I told Brock, but he was already there, opening the door and letting me in.
“Hey, baby…” I said in my best soothing voice, creeping closer. She was very, very sensitive after a meltdown, and if I wasn’t careful, I could re-traumatise her, setting her off again.
“Mummy…”
Her weak little voice sliced right into me as she reached up. I scooped her up into my arms and held her close, burying my face in her neck.
“I’m sorry, baby, so very sorry. Let’s go home now.”
I thanked Brock as I carried my daughter from the room back to my car, able to set her down now and into her seat, buckling her belt like she was still a baby. She just sat there, listless and empty, as she stared out the window. She was just as quiet when I got her home, carrying her inside and laying her down on the couch, putting on her favourite cartoon before tucking her up under her special blanket. Her fingers worried the edge of it, stroking the plush microfibre over and over. I put some snacks out on the table and gave her a big bottle of water to drink, something she did quite quickly, but apart from the noise from the TV, the house was quiet.
I’d expected accusations, recriminations, or begging. I’d expected her to scream some more about how fucking terrible I was as a mother. In some ways I wanted, even craved that, because then I wouldn’t have to focus on anything else. Then I felt another flush of guilt, because that would mean she was dysregulated again. But as I stood in the kitchen making a coffee, the space created by Evie’s calm let everything else in.
Part of me had wanted, needed, to tell Ben what was happening. When I was heavily pregnant and feeling swollen, ugly and alone, I’d wanted him to walk in that door, take one look at me and sweep me off my feet and off to Campbelltown, where he and his brothers would pamper me. Just like the alpha romance novels I read. But no one could say I wasn’t pragmatic.
Pregnant girls were disgusting, that was the message I’d always gotten. From the stern after-school specials on TV, homing in on the girl’s shame, but not the boy’s, to the school yard chatter if any girl was dumb enough to not use protection. Once you were in your twenties, settled and established, you were allowed the luxury of a baby, but not before. So, me getting pregnant? SuddenlyIwas that idiot, that trusting moron, that slut – all the negative terminology I’d always heard
Ben knew how to get in contact with me if he wanted. He’d have to know that Taylor still saw Sophie, as their relationship got serious pretty quick. Max was part of our social group when we still lived at the university and he sometimes discussed Ben and his pack in an offhand way, talking about the local omegas and their attempts to snag the guys. I’d hear mention of Ben and I’d freeze where I was, feeling a hot, then cold flush. Sophie’s eyes would find mine across the room, the two of us having a little moment before I’d force myself to move and join in a different conversation. But the final nail in that coffin for me was when Taylor came back for the third year of his degree.
Sophie and he had been messaging and calling all over the summer, so when he came back to town, it was a red-letter day. She’d zipped off to meet him at the university and that’s when she’d run into Max and Ben. She told me this a few days later, in short, halting words, watching my face the whole time. I just nursed a tiny baby Evie and listened as she spoke. He’d driven the guys up again and when they’d all got unpacked, he’d talked about the O’ Week parties and where the single ladies were at.
“I told you,” I said, trying for calm and failing. “It was just a one-night stand. It meant nothing, and that’s no basis for any kind of relationship.” I stared down at my child, watching her contentedly feed. “We don’t need him in our lives, and he definitely doesn’t need us. It’s better this way, Soph.”
But whether it had been or not, I was about to dissect things all over again. When night fell and Evie had eaten a light dinner of scrambled eggs on toast, Sophie walked in. Evie brightened a little at the sight of her aunt, but not by much. Sophie’s stricken expression was a reflection of mine as she took in the swollen lids of my daughter’s eyes.
“Time for bed, darling,” I said brightly, hoping, praying that this wouldn’t set her off again. “Aunty Soph said she’d read you some Harry Potter.”
“OK,” was all the reply we got.
Sophie put the bottle of wine she carried on the table, then put her arm around Evie’s shoulders when she got to her feet.
“Come on, kiddo. Are you going to be Harry this time, or am I?”
“So,”Sophie said sometime later, finding me just sitting there, staring at my cold cup of coffee, “I had a chat with someone who specialises in family law…” I snorted and looked up at her, shaking my head. Straight to solutions, was our Soph. “You don’t have to grant access to Evie—”
“Yeah, I do,” I replied, any turmoil I was feeling settling once I said the words. It didn’t make me feel any happier, but the worry seemed to abate at least, until the next wave began. “I didn’t set out to alienate my daughter from her father. If I’d thought he gave a shit at all… I just assumed—”
“I did too,” she said with a shrug. “When I saw him at the start of our second year of uni asking about parties, not you… It’s why I stopped pushing. I thought you were right, that he wouldn’t be interested, and I didn’t want…” Her lips thinned and she shook her head. “Taylor reamed me out once he got the news. He’s not talking to me right now.”