Then There Was You (5 page)

I’d already scanned his file, so I knew his previous charges. Trespassing. Arson. Grand Theft. Possession of a Weapon on School Grounds. Assault. Despite the convictions, I never judged a kid based on the charges in his file.

A flicker of a smile crossed his lips, but he quickly recovered. Furrowing his eyebrows, he clasped his hands in his lap and continued to slouch in the chair.

“Now,” I said, grabbing a pen off my desk and preparing myself to take notes, “I know what your chart says, but can you tell me, in your own words, why you’re here?”

“Because.” It was a typical teenage answer. It hadn’t been that long ago that I was a teenager myself, so I remembered that response well.

“Because,” I prompted him as I exaggeratedly wrote the word in my notebook. “Interesting reason. Can you expound on that?” My sarcastic retort caught him off guard.

He looked up at me, his hard stare holding a depth that addled me. The depth of his glaring eyes was like an emotional abyss. My curiosity of his brooding petulance gnawed at me.

“Because,” he seethed through clenched teeth, “I almost slit some asshole’s throat.” Sitting up, he angrily punched his fist into his hands and leaned against them, supported by his bent elbows that were digging into his legs.

I flinched. Two hours of sleep and meeting a kid I knew nothing about had put me a little on edge.

Chris looked at his fist grinding into his palm, and immediately released it, running his hand nervously through his hair. Softening his tone, he mumbled, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I relaxed a little.
There has to be more to this story.
“Why did you almost slit someone’s throat?”

Chris hesitated and then leaned forward in his chair, looking me directly in the eyes. “Because he needed someone to teach him a lesson.”

“And what lesson would that be?”

His face hardened, and his nostrils flared. “Let me just put it this way. He won’t be messing with
her
again.”

Oh, I get it now. He was protecting someone. A girl.
“One of those guys, huh?”

“Yeah… a fucking coward,” he growled through gritted teeth, smoldering with rage.

“I see.” I jotted a few words into my notebook.

He groaned and threw himself back against the chair, causing it to screech against the tile floor. “You think it was stupid, don’t you?”

Glancing up from the paper, I found his dark eyes settling on me again. I shook my head. “I never said that.”

“Well, you’re writing it in your little notebook. Talking shit about me in there. Writing things you can’t say out loud,” he huffed. “Just like the counselor I had the last time I was here. He made up his mind about me the first time I met him.”

I cocked my head, studying him as he glared at me. “I’m not writing anything negative about you in this notebook. I’m only jotting notes about what we discuss, so the next time I see you, my sleep-deprived brain can remember. I don’t write my personal opinions in here.”

“Well, what is your opinion?” he asked hesitantly, glancing toward the wall.

“Does my opinion really matter?”

He quickly caught my gaze again. “No,” he said adamantly, while his eyes said ‘yes.’

I folded my hands in my lap and leaned forward a little. “Let me assure you, it doesn’t. What matters is how you view yourself.”

Rolling his eyes, he groaned, “Don’t talk to me with all your touch-feely mumbo jumbo. I couldn’t care less about that shit.”

I stared at him, unyielding, as if I could look hard enough at him to read him like a book. “Something deep down tells me otherwise.”

He peered back, unblinking, seemingly pleading with me to understand him, but with the reservations of a frightened teenager afraid to let another adult see his emotional side. He quickly reined in his emotions as if allowing me to get a glimpse would make him too vulnerable.

After a few long seconds, he broke the silence. “Are we done here?”

I nodded. “For now.”
I’ll scrape past that hard exterior soon enough.

Hopping to his feet, he blurted, “Fine. See you later, then.”

“Just one more thing,” I told him. “You’re on my schedule every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. However, my door is always open. Just let the guards know you need me, and they’ll see if I’m available. I just want you to know you can trust me.” While I talked, I hoped the sincerity in my voice helped him believe me. “The things you tell me are confidential—it’s the law. But I also need you to realize that I would never break your trust and repeat anything to anyone unless you gave me a reason to fear for your life or someone else’s. Do you understand, Chris?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with a nod, but seemed unconvinced. Glancing at me again, he deadpanned, “I guess I’ll see you Wednesday, then.” Turning on his heel, he stepped out of my office directly into the custody of the awaiting guard, practically slamming the door behind him.

The sharp sound of the closing door from his eager escape was a small wound on my heart. As a counselor, I couldn’t help the fact that I was so in tune with my feelings. I had a tendency to wear my heart on my sleeve, even though I was trained in school not to show my emotions because exposing your feelings tore down the professional barriers. I needed these kids to like me enough to open up to me and trust me enough so I could help them. I wanted to make a difference in their lives, but in order for me to do that I had to scale those walls they’d built around their hearts. It was a difficult task, but I was always up for a challenge.

Chris glanced at me one last time as the guard escorted him past the window of my office door. It wasn’t a cold look of hatred. It wasn’t a look of insolence. It was a look that translated to a plea of ‘help me.’

This silent plea hit me like a ton of bricks. “I will, Chris,” I mumbled under my breath as I sorted through his records another time. “You just have to let me.”

Mrs. Betty answered the door with a big smile accented by crinkled laugh lines around her eyes. She wore a bright blue smock with white piping. The shoulders of the smock were streaked with spit-up stains, but she didn’t seem to care. “Your sweet girl was perfect all day. She slept, ate, and played like a champ. You don’t have to worry one minute about her while you’re at work. She’s such a pleasure to keep. It’s almost time to feed her again, but I tried to hold her off because I figured you might want the snuggle time when you get home. I always loved feeding my babies their bottles.”

I smiled at Alexis who was as happy as a lark in her car seat, batting at the toys that were strapped to the handle of her carrier.
My sweet angel.
“Thank you, Mrs. Betty. I’m so happy to hear that. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I waved at her and stepped out the door. The bright sunlight caused Alexis to squeeze her eyes shut, and then the whimpers started, followed by full-blown wails.

And they didn’t stop—

all

the

way

home.

“Alexis, honey, it’s okay,” I consoled her from the front seat.
Dammit.
I knew the car seat laws were there for our babies’ safety, but backseat and rear-facing sure did make it difficult to comfort her.

The never-ending crying pierced my eardrums and shot my blood pressure through the roof. I swerved into the driveway and unhooked Alexis’s car seat from its base. I gently placed her car seat on the kitchen floor and swiftly made her bottle. Maneuvering her out of the straps and cradling her in my arms, I quickly began feeding her. Alexis gulped the milk and adoringly looked at me with those this-is-the-best-thing-I’ve-ever-tasted-thank-you-so-much-mommy eyes.

“Sweet girl, you can’t do this to me every day. Mommy’s nerves can’t take it. I’m gonna have to make sure Mrs. Betty feeds you before I get there to pick you up.” I sat with her on the sofa and cuddled her until my husband, Graham, got home from work.

“What’s for supper?” he asked as he took his shoes off at the door and plopped his laptop bag on the recliner. Running a hand through his stark, blond hair, he groaned, “I’m starving.”

“Really?” I cut my eyes at him, glaring into his gray-blue eyes. “It was my first day back at work after being home with Alexis for nearly twelve weeks. I got zero sleep last night. I haven’t had time to pee since I got here because
your
daughter screamed her head off the entire ride home and didn’t stop until I popped a bottle in her mouth. I’ve had all of five minutes to take a breather. I haven’t even taken my heels off yet, and you’re asking me what’s for supper?”

He threw his hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Geez. Who pissed in your cornflakes today?”

“How about you try getting two hours of sleep every night for twelve weeks and see how well that works out for you. Oh, and then try going back to work full-time while you’re at it. Here.” I plopped Alexis into his arms and stomped up the stairs.

He looked petrified as he cradled her in his arms. It was the first time I’d left him alone with Alexis since the day she’d been born. “What do you want me to do, Salem?”

“Do whatever you want. I’m taking a bath,” I grumbled and stomped up the stairs. I didn’t get it. Graham was the smartest man I knew as far as investment banking was concerned. He was an analyst at a large firm and could prattle on about analyzing business plans and structuring low beta portfolios, but the idea of caring for his own infant daughter had him shaking in his suit.

I escaped into my bathroom—my safe haven—with paper thin walls. I could already hear Alexis crying through the closed door.
Oh god, she hates her life. She hates us. I’m her mom, but I think she hates me.

I ran the bath water and splashed water onto my face to camouflage the tears. I thought I wanted to be a mother. It’s all I had ever wanted. I wanted to hold and snuggle a sweet baby in my arms, weeping tears of joy while my heart burst with pride and love. I had a fantasy of my husband and I working together to raise this perfect little miracle, taking turns changing diapers and trading nights of sleep. My experience was quite the opposite. I did most of the work myself while my husband sat at his computer, seemingly clueless about how to help and too self-absorbed to care. Most of the time, I held a hysterical, flailing baby in my arms, weeping tears of regret while my heart burst with resentment and guilt for feeling that way.

I clicked the radio on in the bathroom and cranked the volume of the classic rock station until it almost hurt my ears. I just needed to drown out the crying, and at the moment I wasn’t sure if it was her crying or my own that I was trying to escape.
I can’t do this, God. I’m not cut out to be a mother. I hate this whole parenting thing more than I’ve ever hated anything. I’m not who I thought I was. I’m not the woman I thought I’d be.

It seemed like no matter how loud I turned the volume, I could still hear Alexis’s screams. I held my breath and slipped deeper into the steaming, hot water. My face was just barely below the surface, but the hollow sound in my ears from the pressure of the water soothed my frazzled nerves. I held my breath until my lungs burned for oxygen. The more my lungs burned, the more determined I was to hold my breath.
I just need to drown out the crying a little bit longer.

Just then, Graham burst through the door. I could hear his panic-filled, muffled voice under the water. “I don’t know what she wants. I can’t get her to stop crying.” I squeezed my eyes tighter. No, my nightmare hadn’t ended yet. I just needed to hold my breath a little longer. “Salem?”

I didn’t answer.

“Salem!” Graham reached down and grabbed my arm, pulling me out of the water. Instinctively, I gasped for air. “What the hell were you doing?” He glared at me.

“Nothing. Just rinsing my hair,” I lied.

Graham eyed me suspiciously, but didn’t say anything else about it. “Like I said, I can’t get her to stop crying.”

I sighed. “Just put her in her swing. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Good. I’m going to grab a pizza. I’m starving.”

“Okay. I’m getting out,” I grumbled and stood up, dripping wet.

Can’t even get five minutes to myself without Alexis ruining it, just like she’s ruined everything else.

Immediately chilled by the cool air, I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around myself, shivering as I stepped out of the tub onto the plush, beige bathmat.

Graham kissed my cheek, trying to butter me up. “She just wants her mommy. I’ll be back in a few.”

I didn’t want a kiss on the cheek. I wanted my worthless husband to get up off his ass and do something!

“Okay,” I said sullenly, wishing I could be the one to hop in the car and leave. I watched him leave the bedroom, glaring daggers into his cowardly, retreating back.

We didn’t exactly mean to get pregnant, but when it happened, he seemed genuinely excited. He had helped me pick the nursery bedding, assembled the crib, and hung the valances. He had even attended a baby shower with me, but nothing prepared us for the shock of actually bringing a child into our lives. It was emotionally challenging, physically draining, and mentally exhausting, but at the same time our hearts filled with so much love for our sweet baby and for each other. That is, until the weeks turned into months of sleepless nights and constant wailing. Peaceful meals and movie marathon date-nights were a thing of the past. We knew our lives would never be the same. Nine short months weren’t nearly enough to prepare ourselves for the total upheaval that having a child would bring. So by the end of the second month of Alexis’s life, our nerves were shot.