Nine
nine
FIGHT SONG - RACHEL PLATTEN
CALLIE - NOVEMBER 30, 2013
I t’s strange how quickly life can shift, how moments that should be warm and filled with love can instead be tense and uncomfortable, like a thread stretched thin, ready to snap. I sit on the edge of the couch, my eyes fixed on Adam. He holds Ruby, our daughter, a part of both of us, yet caught in between. His focus is entirely on her as if he can will her tiny, sleeping form to fix everything broken between us. No matter how long he holds her or how often he comes over, that damage was done long before Ruby was born. We may have created a beautiful, innocent life together, but the history between us is far from innocent. It’s bruised and battered. I sometimes wonder if it ever truly healed.
Adam’s thumb brushes across Ruby’s delicate fist. My heart softens for a moment at the sight. He looks so different when he’s with her, like the Adam I used to know. The man I married. The one who could make me laugh until I cried. The one I thought I would spend my life with. That man is a ghost now, a shadow of a memory flickering in and out of my mind.
Seeing him with Ruby makes something twist in my chest. I wish it could just be about her, about giving her the love and care she deserves, but it’s not that simple. Not with Adam, he doesn’t make anything simple.
“You’ve got to be joking about the no over-nights thing, right?” His voice cuts through the room, shattering the fragile peace like a rock through glass. He doesn’t even bother looking at me when he says it, as if my opinion isn’t worth the courtesy of eye contact.
I clench my jaw, trying to stay calm. “No, Adam, I’m not joking. Ruby’s only four weeks old. I’m still working on building up enough of a milk supply so she can stay at your place comfortably. We agreed on six weeks, and I don’t think that’s even enough time, but that’s what the judge settled on in our divorce.”
I’m surprised by the steadiness in my voice. Internally, I feel like I’m walking on a tightrope, balancing between aggravation and anger. Adam has always known how to push my buttons, making me feel unreasonable, like I’m overreacting. I’m not, though. I know I’m not. This is about Ruby, not about us. I repeat that in my head like a mantra, hoping it’ll stick.
Adam shifts in his seat, his posture stiff. “It’s not my place,” he mutters, the words laced with bitterness. “It’s our place—me and Katie. Ruby’s going to be there soon enough. So, what’s the difference between now and then?”
“The difference,” I say, enunciating each word carefully, “is that I’m still breastfeeding. I need more time to store enough milk. I’m not keeping her from you, Adam. I’m doing what’s best for her.”
His jaw tightens and he looks like he’s about to argue, but he stops. He leans back in the chair, his gaze softens as he looks down again at Ruby. I let out a slow breath, relieved that the conversation didn’t escalate. The air between us is thick with unspoken words, words that have been festering for months, years.
I glance toward the window, the last of the sunlight filtering through the blinds. Owen will be home soon. The thought brings a small flicker of warmth to the pit of my stomach, a reminder that I’m not in this alone, and the strength to get through this visit with Adam without things boiling over.
He is sitting across from me, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. I can feel the pressure building, waiting to explode. Adam clears his throat, pulling me back to the present. “You sure you’re not just using this as an excuse to keep her away from me?”
His words land like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of my lungs. I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. It’s the accusation that stings the most. The insinuation that I would use Ruby as a pawn, that I would deliberately keep her from him, is insulting. I may not like Adam anymore, I may even resent him, but I would never do that to Ruby. Or to him.
“No,” I say, my voice firm. “I’m not using her as an excuse. She’s your daughter too, Adam. I want you to be part of her life, but you need to understand that she’s still so little. She needs me right now. This isn’t about you. It’s about her.”
The sound of the front door opening breaks the tension for a moment, and I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The knot in my chest loosens at the sound of Owen’s reassuring footsteps echoing down the hallway. “Hey,” he says as he steps into the room, his voice like a balm to my frazzled nerves. I don’t need to look up to know he’s smiling, that easy, familiar smile that always makes me feel better. He crosses the room and leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my head. The gesture is so simple, so grounding, it brings tears to my eyes. I blink them back quickly, not wanting to show vulnerability in front of Adam.
“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick,” Owen says, glancing at Adam with a nod of acknowledgment before turning toward the hallway. For a moment, neither Adam nor I speak. The silence stretches on, heavy and suffocating. Then Adam’s eyes snap to mine, and there’s something dark and dangerous in his expression that sends a chill down my spine.
“If your boyfriend gives me another dirty look like that, I’m going to curb-stomp him,” Adam says, his voice laced with malice.
My heart skips a beat, adrenaline surging through me like ice water. It takes everything in me not to react, not to let the panic show on my face, but I can’t stop my hands from trembling as I reach for Ruby.
“Give her to me,” I say, my voice sharp and commanding. It’s the only thing I can do to keep from losing control, to stop the fear from swallowing me whole. Adam hesitates for a moment, his grip tightening on Ruby. For one terrifying moment, I think he might refuse to let her go, but he does. He hands her over, his eyes hard and cold as they meet mine. I pull Ruby close to my chest, her tiny body a comforting weight in my arms, and take a step back putting as much distance between us as possible.
“Get the hell out of my house,” I say, my voice shaking with fury. I don’t raise my voice, but the anger is there, boiling, barely contained.
Adam stares at me for a long moment, his face twisted in anger and something else—something I can’t quite place, but he doesn’t argue. Instead, he grabs his jacket and storms out of the house without another word, slamming the door behind him. The windows rattle. I stand there, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps, and I try to calm the pounding of my heart. Ruby stirs in my arms, her tiny fist pressing against my chest. I clutch her tighter, trying to calm down, to breathe deeply.
It’s over. He’s gone.
The bathroom door opens a few minutes later, and I turn to see Owen standing in the doorway, a towel wrapped low around his hips, his skin still damp. He looks around, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Where’d Adam go?”
I shake my head, my throat tight with the aftermath of what just happened. “He’s gone,” I say, distracted and on edge.
Owen’s gaze sharpens; his eyes narrow as he takes in the tension in my posture, the way I’m clutching Ruby like a lifeline. “What happened?” he asks, his voice gentle and serious.
I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Nothing,” I say, though my voice wavers. “Just… Adam being Adam.”
Owen says nothing for a moment, observing me with an unreadable expression. Without a word, he crosses the room and wraps his arms around me and Ruby, pulling us both to his chest. The warmth of his body, the solid feel of him against me melts the tension away.
I bury my face in his chest, breathing in the scent of his soap, and let out a long, shaky breath. The fear, the anger, the tension all dissolve in his embrace, leaving me feeling lighter, safer. His arms are the only place where I can truly let go.
“You’re okay,” Owen murmurs, his voice soothing, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “You’re both okay.”
The warmth of his skin calms my frayed nerves, my heart rate slows, syncing with the gentle rise and fall of Ruby’s chest. I focus on how she feels snuggled against me, her weight, her warmth, the delicate little puffs of breath as she sleeps. She’s so small, so vulnerable, and in moments like these, I’m acutely aware of how much she depends on me, on us.
Owen pulls back, his fingers brushing against my cheek as he looks at me with concern. “You sure you’re okay?” His voice is tender, but there’s an edge to it. He knows there’s more to what just happened with Adam than I’m letting on.
I nod, my chest still tight. . “I’m fine,” I whisper, though I’m not sure if I’m convincing him or myself. “I just… I need to breathe for a minute.”
Owen doesn’t push. Instead, he presses another kiss to my forehead and steps back, giving me space. “I’ll be in the other room if you need me,” he says. “Just holler.”
I watch him go, disappearing down the hallway, leaving me alone with Ruby. The house feels too quiet now. The silence settles around me like a heavy blanket. I just sit there, holding Ruby close, listening to the distant hum of the water running as Owen finishes his shower.
The tension from Adam’s visit still lingers, a sharp edge that refuses to dull. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell myself that it’s over, that he’s gone—the unease won’t let go. My mind keeps circling back to his threat, the way his eyes darkened when he spoke. I’ve always known Adam had a temper, but this… this was different. More dangerous. I’ve never seen him act quite like that with kids around.
I close my eyes, letting my head rest against the back of the couch. The exhaustion creeps in now, the emotional rollercoaster of the day catching up with me. The last few months have been a blur of sleepless nights, doctor’s appointments, and trying to keep my head above water. And now this with Adam? I’ve barely had time to process my emotions at all.
I shift Ruby in my arms, glancing down at her peaceful face. The sight of her, so innocent, so untouched by the chaos of the world, should soothe me. Instead, it brings back memories of that first night in the hospital, of how fragile everything felt then, how fragile it still feels now. The way the hospital room felt too quiet, too empty without Owen. The way fear gnawed at me, even though I knew, logically, that Ruby was okay. I thought things would get easier after she was born, but it’s only gotten more complicated.