Chapter Forty-Three
brEANNA
THE REST of the evening is torture. No one is really hungry after eating junky carnival food all day, but we sit around the dinner table and listen to the kids tell Dad about their day.
I haven’t taken a bite of my food; I’ve been moving it around on my plate with my fork, but I think if I try to eat, I might just vomit it back up.
I caught Marley and my dad watching me. They know something’s up, but just thinking about it makes it hard to breathe, and I have to blink back the tears. I’m going to have to avoid their questions until the shock of it dulls.
A soft tap against my toe under the table lifts my eyes to Mato. I know it was him; he sits across from me. His brown eyes say what he can’t say out loud right now. I’ve got you. I love you.
Koda sets his fork on his plate. “Can I be excused?”
I always look to make sure he’s eaten most of the food on his plate, but every time I do, it’s clean. He never leaves food on his plate. Old habits. “Yes, you can. Put your plate in the sink, please.” I say it every time, and every time he’s already picking it up before I finish the request.
An eager Biscuit scrabbles to stand at the door to the dining room, her nails tapping on the hardwood, as she follows him, tail wagging.
We moved into the cabin a few weeks ago and switched out the big bed in the second bedroom for two twin beds. Now Nova is sitting on the couch between my legs in her pink flannel nightgown while I pull her braid out and brush her hair.
Since Koda took apart the hairdryer yesterday, Nova and I have unruly hair today.
He’s at the little four-person dining table in the small kitchen, putting together a magnet dome with different colored pieces, Biscuit lying on the floor next to him.
His little legs are swinging under the chair as he focuses on attaching magnetic panels together without knocking it over.
How do I live without this? This has become my normal. In three months, my life has changed so significantly, but I can’t imagine going back to what I was.
What makes it even worse is they were so tired that they fell asleep almost as soon as their heads hit their pillows. I’d hoped to snuggle a little longer, but they don’t know we’re on the edge of a deep, dark hole that might swallow our little family up.
Now they are sleeping soundly in a house they’ve decided is safe, and I’m standing in the hallway, outside their door, thinking about someone I’ve never met who has as right to take them away from me because of a piece of paper.
First preference is placement with a member of the child’s extended family.
That’s what the caseworker told Mato on the phone. It was burned into my brain as if it had been branded on me. Like the bonds I have with the children are not considered family.
The shower is still on in the bathroom as Mato washes the dust and smell of carnival off; aside from that, the cabin is quiet.
Too quiet. I move to the living room and the reminders of kids are everywhere.
The Christmas tree is sparkling in the far corner, and gifts are wrapped with big bows under it.
What happens if I come to this cabin one day and they’re gone?
Everything feels so small compared to what’s building and swirling in my chest, and now it feels too warm in here. I step out onto the porch, and the cold air slaps me in the face. It feels good.
I didn’t bother with shoes or a coat. I pull my sweater around me and cross my arms to hold it in place as I walk in my fuzzy socks to the small firepit on the side of the porch Mato’s father built fifteen years ago.
Leaning against the wooden railing, I listen to the soothing stream, which lazily winds through the property, running next to the cabin. The stars are bright and the air is crisp; any other time I would say it’s a beautiful night.
How am I going to do this again?
The thought spears through me like a white-hot poker, and I swallow the sob that tries to rush from my throat.
The front door opens, and I hear Mato’s boots on the wood porch. He steps up behind me, setting his hands on the rail, caging me in; the smell of soap all around me. “You’ll freeze out here.”
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t tell me to go inside. He just offers me his body heat in the silence, waiting to see what I need from him.
Finally, I say what’s on my mind. “She’s family.” My voice shakes and I tighten my arms across my front. “By blood. A rule on a piece of paper says she comes first. What does that make me? Just the placement? The lady who took them in?”
He dips his head so his lips are next to my ear. “You’re their mother, nudo.”
“Not on any paper.” I dig my fingers into my upper arms. “Not anywhere it counts. If she wants them, she…” I choke on a sob. “Mato, she can just take them. They will hand them over and say it’s the right thing. Koda will think we gave him up, and Nova…” My throat closes and I can’t finish.
He doesn’t try to talk me down from my anger.
A lesser man, a man who would need me to feel better so he could feel better, would tell me not to worry, that there’s no use worrying until we know more.
Mato turns me to face him, his large hand resting on the small of my back, and lets it be as bad as it is.
“It might happen.” His voice is soft. “I won’t lie to you. It might.”
The sob I swallowed earlier breaks through my lips, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
The tears fall down my cheeks. “I already lost one.” The words tear out of me on another sob, and I press the back of my hand over my mouth, trying to control the emotions.
“I swore to myself I’d never want something that bad again.
” Another sob shakes my chest. “But I did it anyway; I let those two babies in, I let you in, and now I’m about to lose it all again, and I did it to myself. ”
That’s when he moves. He pulls me into him, both arms wrapping all the way around me, my face against the warm center of his chest. He holds me like he can keep all my pieces together with his own hands.
His chin is on top of my head. “You’re not by yourself this time. Whatever happens, and I’m going to do everything I can to make sure it doesn’t, you won’t be doing this alone. Do you hear me? Whatever comes, it’s coming at both of us.”
I fist my hands in the t-shirt under his coat and hold on as the sobs keep coming.
Ten years ago, I learned that needing someone was dangerous, because the second you let yourself lean, they could be gone, and you’d fall. I built a whole life on not leaning. A safe life.
Here I am, leaning with my whole weight on a man who’s already proven once that he can disappear. The strange thing, the thing that makes me cry even harder into his shirt, is that I’m not afraid of him anymore.
I’m afraid for the kids. And as his warm hands hold me, and he pulls the hair from my face while offering me everything he is, I realize for the first time that the worst thing isn’t mine to carry alone.
When the sobs subside, I mumble, “I’m scared.” I don’t think I’ve ever said those words out loud to another adult in my life.
“I know, nudo.” His arms tighten around me, and his voice wobbles. “I’m scared, too.”
We stand in the cold for a long time, not trying to make it better, because that’s not possible. With the kids sleeping soundly in the cabin they think of as home. We hold each other and accept that this is bad, and we may not be able to fix it.
When I finally let him steer me back inside, he takes my hand and leads me to bed. We don’t talk about it anymore tonight; instead, he pulls me to him and holds me until I fall asleep. It’s a fitful sleep, and every time I wake up, he tightens his arm around me, but he’s still there.
He won’t leave me this time.
I know now that he never will.