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Sure, there's a lot to do and figure out, but hell, I've done harder things. Haven't I? Simply surviving my family is an accomplishment. Caring for a baby, I know it will be hard. But I'm fucking tough. Jemma was right, I have jobs and a place to live. Looking around the room, I can almost picture the crib in the corner.
I can do this. I have to do this. There's no other option. The tiny thing crowding my uterus doesn't have any options. They didn't ask to be born into chaos. And they won't be. I will not let that happen.
"Hey, buddy. I'm your momma," I whisper, tears streaming down my cheeks but my heart swelling with a newfound joy. "I'm gonna figure this out, okay?"
Turning on the TV, I scoot back against the pillows at the head of the bed but leave one hand over my belly button. This dingy motel room might be where I am now, but Jemma's right—it's a start. Even as I think it, a bout of loneliness rushes over me. It shouldn't have happened like this, but it did. I'll do whatever I need to, even if I have to do it alone in Kansas.
Hours later, I'm still in the same spot. My mind has been racing the entire time. But no new plans or answers have taken shape. Taking a deep breath, I finally muster the courage to dial Sam's number, using an app to block my caller ID. There's a tightness in my chest at the thought of not mentioning the baby—it's going to be incredibly hard. But more than anything, I need to hear my friend's voice.
"Hello?" Sam's voice comes through, a baby's cry echoing in the background. The sound twists my stomach, making my nerves fray at the thought of having one of those noisy things in my life soon. I quickly shove the thought aside, reminding myself I'm not going to bring up my own situation.
"Erm, hi, Sam."
"Oh, Tilly! How are you?" The baby's cries subside, and my heart begins to race.
"I'm okay. A little under the weather," I admit, keeping it vague.
"Yeah, there's a nasty bug going around here, too."
"So, how's the baby?" I venture, trying to sound casual. But inwardly I can’t separate her baby with mine. If the situation was different, our kids would grow up together. That’s something that I’ve always wanted but never thought was possible. Things can change so fast.
Sam launches into an enthusiastic update about her son, and my heart swells with affection for her happiness. Being a mother suits her. I always knew it would. She’s always been so levelheaded and caring. If anyone deserves their happily ever after, it’s her. Not like me. I don’t get the guy and the house and the business. No. I get alone, cold, afraid, and knocked up. After she finishes, I clear my throat. "That's wonderful. I saw the pictures."
"He's so much bigger now. I swear he grows every day. But I've been so busy, I haven't had time to post anything new. Now that I know you're looking, I'll put a bunch up tonight."
"I'd like that," I respond, genuinely looking forward to it.
"So, how's the job?" she asks, shifting the conversation.
I dive into a story about a recent disaster a minor league baseball team caused in one of the motel rooms. They left it in ruins, complete with blood-stained sheets that utterly creeped me out. The team's manager even had the audacity to argue they shouldn't have to pay for the damages since the blood came from an injury. By the end of the confrontation, I threw the bloodied sheets at team’s manager and told him to ‘suck it.’ If Jemma wasn’t my boss, and completely not on board with the nastiness of semi-pro athletes, I’d probably be back in a new rental car on the road by now. My original car was eventually dropped off four hours south. It took a full day to return it and grab a greyhound back, but I couldn’t risk returning any closer. Talk about a hit to my bank account.
As our chuckles subside at the end of the story, my grip on the phone tightens. "And how's Tommy?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper. Normally, I’m able to resist asking but with everything that’s going on, it’s impossible. I’m not even sure what I want to hear. Is he happy? Is he heartbroken? Is he—gulp—seeing someone? Any answer will hurt, but I have to know.
Sam's silence stretches. "I don’t think I’m supposed to talk to you about Tommy. It's not fair to him. Why don’t you call—"
"I can’t, Sam." My voice cracks.
"Tilly, whatever your family has done, or will do, we’re here."
I’m blinking away tears. “I can’t do that to any of you, Sam. Especially not with TJ around.”
“I love my son, Til, and I’ll do anything to keep him safe. But I love you too. Come home, Tilly.”
I press a hand to my forehead. "I can’t. Not now. Not ever."
"That's not true. We can—fuck, Tilly, we don’t do this. You didn’t let me run! We stick together and protect each other. I hate that you’re somewhere alone like this."
Yeah, me too, I nearly admit. My resolve is melting, and I know it’s time to go. Any more begging and I might give in. Or at least beg her to visit me somewhere. I want to hold TJ, figure out if I’m made for this mom stuff but more than that, I want to see that little piece of Greg and Sam. To hold and kiss him, watch as he falls asleep. Sleeping babies are irresistible. Or at least anytime I’ve seen them. I think I’ve held a baby exactly three times in my life and all for very short periods of time.
"I just... I wanted to call and check in. You sound happy, Sam. I wish I could be there."
"You can." But I'm shaking my head, even though she can't see me. This call isn't making me feel any better. The ache of missing Sam is a physical pain in my stomach.
And Sam won't tell me about Tommy.
"I love you, Sam. I’ll call again soon." I hang up before she can respond, a mix of sorrow and unresolved longing heavy in my heart.
Chapter twenty-eight
