Chapter 16 #2
“I checked everywhere. The kitchen, the playroom, their bedroom. And then I heard something in the girls’ bathroom, the one we’d been meaning to finish childproofing but hadn’t gotten to yet.
” Janie’s chest constricted, pressing against her lungs and making it almost impossible to get the next words out.
“The cabinet under the sink was open. And Chloe was sitting on the floor with a bottle of children’s Tylenol.
The purple kind. And there was...” She swiped at the mucus running from her nose as she began to sob.
“There was purple around her mouth and on her hands. The bottle was mostly empty.”
Hannah’s face had gone very pale, but she didn’t let go of Janie’s hand.
“I tried to see how much she’d taken. Had the bottle been new or not?
I couldn’t remember. I tried to get her to spit it out, but whatever she’d put in her mouth was gone.
And I just...I lost it. I was screaming and crying, Luna and Tia were crying because I was scaring them, and Chloe started crying because everyone else was crying. ”
“What did you do?” Hannah asked.
Janie blinked through her tears and tried to focus on Hannah.
Her expression was still calm, but her tension pressed against Janie’s soul.
“I called 911, and they told me to bring her to the ER immediately. So I loaded all three girls in the car, and I drove to Northwestern. I was shaking so hard I could barely hold the steering wheel.” The force of the sob that followed as she placed herself in that memory could’ve broken her ribs.
“They took Chloe back right away, checked her blood levels, and made her drink activated charcoal. They said she hadn’t ingested enough to cause liver damage, and that she’d be fine.
But that I needed to be more careful about childproofing.
That I was lucky this time.” She wrapped her arms around herself, though she didn’t deserve the comfort.
She should suffer like she’d made Chloe suffer when she’d vomited from the treatment.
“They reported it to CPS, obviously, and they called me that evening to say it’d been screened out, and they wouldn’t be pursuing the case. They said accidents happen.”
Hannah was very still, her face unreadable.
“And then you came home,” Janie whispered.
“Gabe had texted me to say you’d left the memorial, but you didn’t get back for another five or six hours.
I heard the door slam, heard you stumble upstairs and trip on the landing.
I cracked my door open to make sure you were okay, and you tried to get in the room.
” She shook her head. “You were so drunk. You reeked of alcohol like someone’d smashed a bottle of bourbon over your head. ”
Hannah rubbed the top of her head and glanced away. “Someone did,” she said. “I was looking for a fight, and I got one.”
Janie bit her lip and held back her judgment. That was the kind of behavior her mother had said was an issue. “I closed the door on you. I wouldn’t have told you anyway, even if you’d been sober. I was too caught up in my own shame. I failed them. I fell asleep and Chloe could’ve died.”
Hannah looked at her as if all the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. “That’s why you left.”
“I woke up that morning and couldn’t look at myself in the mirror.
I went into the children’s room, but I couldn’t look at Chloe without seeing that purple around her mouth.
And I definitely couldn’t have faced you.
The girls are your life.” Janie dropped her arms and stared at the floor.
“I had to leave. You don’t come back from something like that.
You don’t even let it happen if you’re a good mother.
I’m unfit, Han. My mother’s right: I’m not capable of taking care of my own children. ”
“Stop.” Hannah’s voice was sharp enough that Janie’s head snapped up. “Stop right there. You’re not unfit. You made a mistake. A human, understandable, could-happen-to-anyone mistake.”
Janie narrowed her eyes. It looked like Hannah and sounded like Hannah, but there was no way she could just forgive Janie for what she’d done.
Where was the anger and rage? “But it didn’t happen to anyone,” she said.
“It happened to me, so it happened to your children. I’m the one who fell asleep.
I’m the one who abdicated my parental duties. I’m the one—”
“You’re the one who was fucking exhausted,” Hannah said.
“You’re the one who was trying to do everything for three months: work full time, handle most of the childcare because I’ve been getting the garage up and running, manage our household, be a perfect mother and wife and professional.
You’re the one who was drowning, and I didn’t see it.
I’m the one who didn’t throw out the life preserver. ”
Hannah pulled Janie into her arms, and she didn’t resist. She collapsed against Hannah’s chest, sobbing. But safe.
“I’m so sorry,” Hannah murmured into Janie’s hair. “I’m so sorry I didn’t see how much you were struggling. I failed you so completely.”
“You didn’t—”
“I did.” Hannah pulled back just enough to look into Janie’s eyes. “You needed me that night, and I wasn’t there for you. I should’ve asked more questions, made space for you to talk to me. But I was too obsessed with the triplets and the garage.”
Janie stared into Hannah’s eyes, searching for the judgment and the rebuke, but all she saw was acceptance and love. She couldn’t put her feelings into words. She could only cry while Hannah held her and rocked her gently.
“Every parent has these moments,” Hannah said after a while.
“You know what happened this week? I was at the store with the girls. I turned my back for literally two seconds to grab pasta from the shelf, and when I turned around, Tia had somehow climbed halfway out of the cart. She was dangling, about to fall headfirst onto the floor. I caught her, but if I’d been one second slower, she could’ve slipped out and cracked her skull open. ”
Janie hiccupped and buried herself deeper into Hannah’s embrace. Was Hannah making that up just to make Janie feel better? Or was it true and all parents had near-misses with their children? Was her guilt universal?
“And last week,” Hannah said, “I was so exhausted after a long day that I almost ran a red light with our girls in the car. All parents have those moments, where we’re exhausted, and overwhelmed, and something could go wrong. That doesn’t make you unfit. It makes you human.”
“But I fell asleep—”
“You were exhausted. You’d been running on empty for months.
And yeah, Chloe got into something she shouldn’t have.
But you woke up, realized what happened, and got her help immediately.
That’s what a good parent does. A bad parent wouldn’t have called 911 or have worried about it at all.
They wouldn’t have carried the guilt and separated themselves from their children for fear of hurting them. ”
Janie wanted to believe Hannah’s words, but the shame was so deeply embedded it had infiltrated her DNA.
“Why are you telling me this tonight?” Hannah asked gently. “Is it because of your mom? And what David said?”
Janie had almost forgotten the second part of the nightmare.
“Partly. I know that the investigators will get the hospital record somehow, no matter how confidential it’s supposed to be.
And she’ll use it.” She blinked away the unwanted image of their girls being dragged away by her mother.
They probably wouldn’t even allow visitation.
“But I’ve been talking to Maria, a new friend,” she said and gave a hesitant smile.
Her relationship with Maria was the only good thing to have come from this whole tribulation.
“She made me see that keeping this secret wasn’t good for any of us. ”
“Maria?” Hannah asked.
Janie recognized that tone and sat up from Hannah’s embrace slightly. “Don’t be like that. She’s…” She pondered an analogy that would resonate with Hannah. “She’s like my Yoda, all wise and knowing. And about a hundred years old,” she added for a little levity and to ease Hannah’s jealousy.
“That’s the kind of friend I can get on board with,” Hannah said and laughed lightly. “But I’ll fight your fucking mother with every breath in my body.”
“She can’t take them,” Janie said, fresh panic rising in her chest. “If she does, it’ll be my fault. If I hadn’t fallen asleep, if I had been more careful, if I was just a better—”
“Stop.” Hannah cupped Janie’s face in her hands, forcing Janie to look at her. “Your mother is not taking our children. We’re not going to let that happen. Do you understand me? We’re going to fight this, and we’re going to win.”
“But the ER records—”
“Show that you responded appropriately to an accident. That’s what a judge will see, right?
An exhausted parent, a moment of inattention, a child who got into something she shouldn’t have, and a mother who immediately got her medical care.
There’s no neglect there. Or abuse. Making mistakes is just part of being a parent. ”
“You don’t know that. What if the judge—”
“Then we’ll have documentation showing everything we’ve done since.
Carmen. My dad helping. Therapy. Better childproofing.
All our friends vouching for us. We’ll show that we took this seriously and made changes.
That’s what responsible parents do.” Hannah thumbed the tears from Janie’s cheeks.
“But more importantly, we’re going to do this together.
Not you alone, carrying all this guilt and fear. Us. As partners. As a team.”
Janie wanted to believe it. God, she wanted to believe it so much. “I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right away,” she whispered. “But I was so ashamed, and I was so scared you’d look at me differently. That you’d see me the way I see myself, as someone who failed our children.”
“I don’t see you that way,” Hannah said and inclined her head slightly.
“I see someone who was drowning and didn’t know how to ask for help.
I see someone who made a very human mistake and has been punishing herself for it.
I see my wife, who I love, who I’ve failed, and who I want to support through this. ”
The word “wife” buzzed through Janie like an electric shock. It was too presumptuous, too much like claiming something that was broken. “I thought you’d hate me.”
“I could never hate you.” Hannah pulled Janie back against her chest and stroked her hair. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Even when we were apart, even when I was hurt and confused, I loved you. And nothing you tell me could change that.”
They sat like that for a long time, Janie crying while Hannah held her, murmuring reassurances and being present in a way she hadn’t been for so many months. Eventually, Janie’s tears slowed, then stopped, leaving her exhausted and wrung out but somehow lighter.
“We need to tell David,” Hannah said. “First thing tomorrow before your mother’s lawyers blindside him with it.”
“I know. Maria said the same thing.”
“Smart woman, that Maria. When do I get to meet her?” Hannah pressed a kiss to the top of Janie’s head. “Are you okay? I know that was...a lot.”
Janie pulled back to look at Hannah. Really look at her. There was no judgment there, no disappointment, no hidden anger. Just love, concern, and determination. But she still couldn’t quite believe it. “I thought you’d think I was unfit. I thought you’d agree with my mother.”
“Never.” Hannah wrinkled her nose. “You’re an incredible mother, Janie. You’re patient, and creative, and loving. Our girls adore you. And yeah, you made a mistake, but that one moment doesn’t define you. It doesn’t erase everything else you are.”
“I don’t know how to stop feeling like I don’t deserve them,” Janie said.
“Then let me help you remember that you do, and that you’re the one who had the strength to build this family from the start.” Hannah kissed Janie’s forehead softly. “Let me show you. Every day. Until you believe it.”
Something cracked in her chest, not breaking, but opening, as if her heart wanted the light to get into the dark place Janie had created and sealed shut for too long.
“Do you want to stay tonight? Not with me. I’ve moved into the guest bedroom. But you could stay in the master, just to be close.”
Janie’s heart raced. Part of her wanted more than that.
She wanted Hannah to invite her into her arms, into her bed.
But she didn’t want to move too fast either, and right now, she was caught up in the intense vulnerability of her relief.
Anything they did tonight would be ill-conceived.
They’d been building toward this for days, but it still felt momentous. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Okay. But for now, can you just hold me like this, right here?”
Hannah squeezed her a little tighter. “Of course. I want you to know you’re not alone in this anymore. I’m going to be better for you, I promise.”
“Thank you,” Janie whispered.
“For what?”
“For not hating me. For...still wanting me.”
“Always.” Hannah’s breath was warm against Janie’s neck. “I’ll always want you. Even when things are hard. Maybe especially when things are hard. Thank you for letting me be here for you now when I haven’t been for so long.”
Janie laced her fingers through Hannah’s, and for the first time in months, it was like she could breathe. The secret was out. The worst had been said. And Hannah was still here, still holding her, still choosing her.
“We’re going to be okay,” Hannah murmured. “All of us. We’re going to fight this and win, and we’re going to be stronger than we were before. I promise I’ll never stop seeing you again.”
Janie closed her eyes and let herself believe it.
They were going to be okay.
Together.