The Opposite of Love (22 page)

56

ROSE

When Becca arrives, she looks all sheepish. “Glad you're all right,” Becca mumbles to Rose under her breath and then she adds, “Sorry for being so hard on you.” Daniel scoops Nala up into his arms.

Rose does her best to smile, even though her belly starts to tighten again. She's in no mood for a heart-to-heart. It feels like someone has stuck her middle in a vise and squeezed. “Hey, if you dish it out, you got to take it, right? I just don't take it very well.”

Becca seems to take that as an invitation to try to reconnect. “You're my best friend, Rose. I have to tell it to you how it is. Who else will?”

“Who says I want to hear it like it is?” Rose asks, shuffling past her. She's only half kidding. “Just agree with everything I say and we'll get along fine.”

“When have you ever known me to keep my mouth shut?”

Rose grips her belly with two hands. “Only when you're eating or smoking a cigarette, and even then … not so much.”

Chase steps in front of Becca, putting his arm around her shoulders. “Right now would be a good time to start practicing the art of silence. I'm sort of on a time schedule. We've got to get to the hospital.”

“
You're
on a time schedule?” Rose interrupts. “
I'm
on a time schedule.”

“Ahhh. It's good to have you back.” Daniel sighs, all sappy and sarcastic.

“Screw you.” Rose almost smiles again, and this time it's genuine.

“You know what else?” Becca says, and she sounds tentative. “You need to work on your comebacks. A little variety here, please?”

“Yeah. Next time you're in this much pain, I'd like to see how creative your comebacks are. I can hardly see straight, let alone think of a comeback.”

Chase pulls the motel bed apart, using the middle fuzzy blanket to wrap around Rose's shoulders as they walk outside. He boosts her into the truck and then buckles her seat belt for her. It's been so long since someone has taken care of her. It feels strange, almost painful. Or maybe she's confusing that with the contractions. Damn, those hurt. Each one more than the last.

It gets so that her vision actually narrows when one hits, the edges turning to blackness, leaving her only able to see what's directly in front of her. So it's Chase that leads her into the emergency room and helps her fill out paperwork. He eases her into a wheelchair and then a hospital bed. She uses “Julie Taylor” for her name and a fake address. Lies about her age.

The actual birth of the baby passes in a pain-filled haze, except the way Chase stays by her head the whole time, smoothing her sweaty hair and telling her she can do it. Except for the way the baby's wailing brings Rose goose bumps and tears. Except for the way Rose's heart turns to mush when the doctor holds the baby out to her—tiny, wriggling, and looking royally pissed off.

But the baby stops crying the minute the doctor lays her on Rose's chest—all gross and gooey and looking like something from a science fiction flick—and yet she's beautiful. The baby opens her eyes for a second and looks at Rose. Studies her. Then with her ear against Rose's beating chest, the baby closes her eyes again. Like she knows she's home. That part Rose knows she'll remember every day for the rest of her life.

57

CHASE

For a top-secret baby
in
a hospital with a two-visitor-limit, there sure are a lot of people squashed into Room 227.

Hours earlier, Chase had broken down and called Candy when Rose kicked him out of the room for her cervix dilation check. Relieved to miss that, Chase's excuse for calling his mom was that he didn't want her to worry. He had, after all, left the house in the middle of the night—no note, wearing pajama bottoms.

In reality, though, he called because he wanted her to
know
. And because he wanted her to
come
. And come she did, with “Auntie Daisy” in tow. Slightly shocked, of course, but who except Rose wasn't? To her credit, Candy didn't criticize at all. Maybe she realized how hypocritical that would be.

Daniel had called his parents too, giving them some but not all of the information about where he was and what he was doing. His explanation wound up being both splotchy and guarded, causing some degree of alarm. The Steins hopped right in their car as well, and since Mr. Stein drove and his sense of direction was light years better than his wife's, they wound up arriving only minutes after Candy.

Chase thought Rose would've been pissed with a capital P about all the uninvited guests, but she seemed surprisingly mellow. Maybe it was whatever meds she'd taken for the pain. Of course, everyone there had a few words of wisdom to impart to Chase and Rose—something Chase found more than a little irritating, but it didn't matter. It was
their
decision. Legally adults or not, they'd created a baby, and the decision was theirs to make … and theirs to regret.

Daisy sits perched at the foot of Rose's bed, her hair sticking up every which way and looking more uncombed than ever. She peeks over at the bundle in Rose's arms. “Man, this is way better than the cat. I'll babysit any time you want!”

Rose just stares at the baby, like she's trying to memorize her tiny face. Chase doesn't think he's ever seen a human being that small, although obviously he'd been around when Daisy had been born. This baby—
his
baby—weighed in at a tiny five pounds, two ounces, but the hospital staff assured them she was healthy. She didn't need to spend any time in an incubator.

Her whole chest rises and falls as she breathes, sleeping in Rose's arms. The nurse dressed her in a baby-doll-sized shirt that buttons between her legs and a thin little beanie on her head. She's wrapped in a blanket like a burrito with one miniature foot sticking out. The foot doesn't even look real. It looks like it belongs to a doll. Tiny, pink, and softer than anything he's ever touched.

Mr. and Mrs. Stein hang back by the door, out of the way. Becca pulls a chair up next to Rose. “The cat's in the car with the windows cracked and a dish of water. She should be fine, and we'll go out and check on her every hour.” Becca pauses, and her face looks uncertain. Rose doesn't even glance up. “Watch out, Rose,” Becca adds. “You look like you're falling in love.”

Rose murmurs, “Nothing wrong with that.” She strokes the baby's head with her hand, the IV moving along with her.

Now Becca really looks uncomfortable, like she's buttoned her jeans too tight or something. “Not if you're gonna keep this baby. But Rose,
think
for a minute. How in the
world
can you keep this baby?”

Now Rose looks up, her eyes full of tears and hate and fear all mixed together. Daniel puts his arm on Becca's shoulder. “Maybe now isn't the right time … ”

“Look at her! She's practically got stars in her eyes,” Becca interrupts. “If she's thinking of giving up the baby, she can't let herself get so attached.”

Chase surprises himself by saying, “We're not giving up the baby.” All eyes turn his way. “Well, we're
not
. How could we?”

No one says anything for a long moment. Becca seems like she wants to say more, but instead she looks down at her feet. A surge of adrenaline pulses through Chase's veins.
Who asked you?
he thinks. “I need to take a walk,” he hears himself saying. “When I get back, I think Rose and I need some time alone. Why doesn't everybody go get something to eat?”

He elbows through the crowded room, fists balled, telling himself to breathe.
Breathe
. He wants to run hard, to get the pent-up adrenaline pumped out of his body, but somehow he doesn't think the hospital looks kindly on new fathers sprinting through the corridors. So he just walks. Fast. And hard. Past a nurse's station, past a crash cart in the hall, and past a crowded waiting room.

The buildup of the night, the lack of sleep, the pressure of the biggest decision in his life—they all weigh on him, like he's carrying the world around in a giant red Santa Claus bag slung over his shoulders. He thinks about it every which way, and nothing seems right. He makes a mental list of his thoughts.

1. No way I'm giving my baby up for adoption. I'd feel like I failed her somehow. She'd never know me. I'd never know her.
2. No way am I ready to be a dad. I can't even get my shit together to finish my college applications without Daniel's help.
3. No way I'm giving up college—if I get in.
4. No way I'm letting Rose keep the baby without my help. She'd refuse to go back to the Parsimmons, so she'd have no one to help her. No money. No home.
5. Maybe I could do it. My mom did it. Had me as a teenager. Sure she missed out on prom and college and all that, but at least I grew up with my own mother. Now that Daisy and I are getting older, she can have her own life again. Candy just flip-flopped the order of things. Kids first, life second.
6. Shit. This list-making crap is getting me more worked up, not less.

Chase wanders the halls with glassy eyes, thinking and rethinking. Somehow he finds himself in the hospital chapel. He kneels and bows his head, something he hasn't done in a long time, not even during Pastor Tom's sermons. If there ever was a time to truly reconnect with God, this is it. But he's out of practice and he doesn't know what to pray for. So he kneels there in silence, his brain buzzing with thoughts, until his knees hurt.

Dear God …
Chase starts, then freezes. He can only think of questions. He's sure that's not the right way to pray, but it's all that comes to his mind.
Why is this happening to me? Why are you putting me in a situation like this? It's lose-lose. Neither decision is good. I'm not ready to be a dad, and I'm not willing to walk away from my own kid. What am I supposed to do? What lesson are you trying to teach me … and can't I learn it some other way?
Chase straightens up. This is pointless.
Jesus Christ
, he swears to himself, then looks up at Jesus on the cross above him.
No offense
, he adds.

Nothing makes sense. Will it ever? Has it ever really before? Should he call Pastor Tom? Where the hell are spiritual guides when you need them?

He tilts his face toward a stained-glass window. Christmas sunshine streams through, splaying into a pattern of light on one of the pews. Chase watches it for a moment, remembering the stained-glass windows he stared at in church as a child. He thinks of the small one in Pastor Tom's church, and even the synagogue stained-glass at the Steins' temple. It's funny, no matter what church or temple he attends, those stained-glass windows always bring a feeling of peace. He reaches his hand out and lets the colored light spill over his fingers.

And then, quite suddenly, he knows what to pray for.
Serenity
. His own. Rose's. The baby's. He bends his head and prays that they will all leave the hospital at peace with whatever decision has been made.

When Chase returns to Room 227, Rose sits alone, her knees pulled up to her chest, under the sterile white hospital sheets. “Where's the baby?” Chase asks.

Rose turns her face toward him, her eyes puffy and her face tear stained. “Nurse took her.”

“Why?” Chase tries to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Just tests, I guess.” Rose shrugs her shoulders like she doesn't care, but it just makes her look more deflated. “Shit, it still hurts, Chase. I thought it was over already, but I keep getting stomach pains. They're like aftershocks or something. The nurse said it's normal, but it sucks.”

“Is that why you're crying?”

For a moment, he sees a flicker of the old Rose, ready to retort, but it fades away. “No,” she says quietly. “I'm crying because Becca is right. I can't take care of a baby.”

“Not by yourself. But maybe
we
could. Together.” Chase puts his hand on her knee. He looks around the room. The second bed sits unoccupied, ultra-white sheets neatly pulled tight. Rose's clothes are wrapped in a plastic bag and sit on the counter by a small sink. Aside from a television hanging from the ceiling and some ominous-looking machines behind Rose's bed, the room seems almost empty.

“You're in no better shape than me.”

“You're not thinking of giving her up, are you?”

“I'm a mess.” Rose sniffles. “I had this grand plan of running away nine months pregnant and finding my birth mother or this random pastor who knew her eleven years ago. Like that was somehow going to solve everything. Like she'd take me in and we'd raise this kid together or some fairy-tale Disney crap like that.” Rose plays with the IV stuck into her hand. “Shit. I've screwed up everything I've ever done. I'd screw up this baby too.”

“No, you wouldn't. I saw the way you held her, Rose. You love her. Have you ever loved anything that way before?”

“No,” she admits, her eyes going to that faraway place. “Maybe my own mother. But how much you want to bet that's how she felt about me when she held me the first time? And where did that get me?”

Chase shakes his head. “I thought I'd be coming in here trying to convince you to consider other options. Now that you have, I'm not so sure I like the options you're considering.” He sighs, lifting his hand to touch her hair, then letting it fall again, her hair untouched. “This is half my decision, you know. I could keep her even if you decided to take off.”

“I know.” She leans her head back and closes her eyes. “I will hate myself for the rest of my life if I leave her here. She's so fresh. So pure. So good.” Chase nods. He knows. Life hasn't tainted her yet. She seems so peaceful and serene. Isn't that what Walter and Lex are always looking for? What he himself is looking for? Serenity? Well, it's right there in that baby. You could bottle it and make millions. But how long before life sucks that precious peacefulness right out of her?

“Well, we don't have to make the decision right this minute, do we?” The room feels stuffy and the air thick. Chase wishes he could open a window or something. He hears something beeping from down the hall, loud, making his heartbeat quicken, but then it stops. “How many days will you be in the hospital?”

“I think two. Unless I hemorrhage or something.” Rose says, and Chase senses some semblance of humor. “Then I get to stay a little longer.”

“Very funny.” He tries to breathe. “I have to think some more before we decide this thing.”

“I'll do you one better. I'm gonna pray.”

“You? Pray? Where's my phone—I'd better record this.” Chase almost smiles, thinking he could wheel her down to the chapel, now that he knows where it is. “You don't strike me as the praying type.”

“No shit,” Rose almost sounds like herself for a moment. Then her lower lip turns under, like she's trying not to cry. She whispers, “Maybe it's time for me to start.”