Page 83 of SnowBound

No, at this late hour, my hopes were dead.

My sobs resumed and choked me as I recalled everything I had left behind. Doubts crippled me.

I was just a kid. How could I become a mother? I had no real-life experiences. And I had no idea where I was going. I was desperate for someone to love me. And even though I never admitted it out loud, the idea of giving birth freaked me out. Already, my changing body wasn’t easy to accept. And since I had ditched the baggy clothes, I couldn’t hide the truth anymore. I couldn’t pretend the pregnancy wasn’t happening when I was out and about.

To add to my new insecurities, I had seen how people watched me when I went to the pharmacy or when Ellie and I had strolled in town. Some showed sympathy while others judged me, without knowing anything about my situation.

My gaze trailed around the dark bedroom. I hated everything this place represented. My heartbeats increased. My fingers clenched the covers tighter. In the darkness, everything appeared worse. I craved sunlight. And a bedroom I was acquainted with. Light. Colors.

Hours passed, and I had no idea when I abandoned myself to sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I took in my swollen eyes and the redness of my cheeks in the mirror over the sink.

Once I joined everyone else for breakfast, they would be able to tell I’d been crying most of the night.

Dressed in the jeans Ellie got me and Tom’s sweater because it was the one piece of clothing that felt comforting right now, I slipped my feet into a pair of flip-flops. With careful steps, I climbed down the stairs after I locked my bedroom door.

“Good morning,” said a woman with dark skin whom I hadn’t met yet. “I’m Desiree, the nurse. Are you Abigail?”

I nodded. “Abby.” My voice sounded low and shaky, my throat still sensitive after all the tears I cried last night.

“We’ll find some time to meet after breakfast,” she said.

“Oh, huh…okay.”

I hid my hands in the sleeves of my shirt, unsure of what to do. Around the table sat four women and three children all aged under five, their plates filled with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and pieces of buttery toast.

Desiree must have sensed my queasiness because she motioned me toward the breakfast buffet with one hand between my shoulder blades. “Here, honey. Grab a plate and some food. You need those vitamins and all the energy you can get.”

She poured orange juice into a glass and handed it to me. “Thanks.”

Once again, I nodded and followed her instructions. I returned to the table, and a little boy pointed to the empty chair beside him. “You can sit with me,” he said. “I’m Lukas. Who are you?”

I sat down and moved my chair forward. “Abby.” I focused on my plate, shy to meet all the residents’ curious gazes set on me.

A little elbow nudged my side, and when I looked to my left, a large grin aimed at me lit up the boy’s face. With my head low, I ate while listening to the conversations taking place around the table.

A woman opposite me caught my attention when she offered me a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll get the hang of it quickly. We’re family here. Welcome.”

The corners of my lips lifted in what I hoped looked like an almost smile.

“My name is Miranda.”

My gaze drifted to her pregnant figure.

“I’m five months along. If you need anything, come and see me. My bedroom is next to yours. I’ve been living here for fifteen weeks. I know all there is to know around here.”

“Huh, thank you.” Why did my voice sound so frail? When did I become so shy that I had trouble holding a conversation?

“You know, I heard you last night,” Miranda continued. “It’s normal to feel helpless at first. And lost. We all go through this phase. It gets better. With time.”

Right now, I wished she was speaking the truth.

After my meeting with Desiree, I spent most of the morning trying to make my bedroom mine by putting a few decor items from my boxes here and there. I placed the framed black and white sonogram picture of my baby by the bed, next to the stuffed frog I got after I learned I was pregnant. Satisfied with the result, I sent a picture to Ellie.

For lunch, I made myself a sandwich from the food I found in the refrigerator, and sauntered through town once I was done, looking for a job. Wearing one of the sundresses Ellie got for me and black ballerina shoes, I spent four hours going from business to business to hand in my resume. I was either not experienced enough or too pregnant or too young for all the places where they were hiring.

Defeated and about to get into another crying fest, I returned to the shelter. After three days of unsuccessful job hunting, I decided I needed a better strategy. I wouldn’t give up. If I wanted a better life for me and my baby, I had to up my game.