Bring Me Home

  This duplex isn’t far from the apartment Lindsay and I shared our senior year at Duke. Lindsay isn’t a terrible person, but she did some pretty terrible things the last few months we were together. I still haven’t forgiven her, though I’m not quite sure how to tell her that without making her feel like she’s totally alone.

  “Hello? Adam?”

  “Sorry. Yeah, I’ll take her.”

  I reach for the baby, who’s wrapped tightly in a soft lilac blanket and fast asleep.

  “Support her head with your hand,” Lindsay says.

  I ignore the fact that I accidentally graze her breast with my hand as I take the baby into my arms. She’s so soft and warm. I try not to look awkward as I hold her against my chest. She has Lindsay’s golden-blonde hair and the most delicate little fingers. The faint shadow of hair on her brow twitches and I wonder whether she’s dreaming and what she’s dreaming about.

  “Are you ready?” Lindsay asks.

  Something about the way she asks this question makes me think she means something else. As if she’s asking whether I’m ready to forgive her and accept this routine of helping her out until she gets a car. The answer to both of those is definitely not.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  Lindsay has never had a problem holding a conversation. She chatters nonstop on the way to the clinic about how her mother, Lillian, is still living with her “asshole” stepfather in Carolina Beach even though he’s cheated on her more times than she can remember. One thing I never understood about Lindsay was why she always got upset over things she couldn’t change. Or, maybe I’m just too accepting of things that should be changed.

  “Why do you still visit her if it upsets you so much?” I ask as I pull into the clinic parking lot.

  “Adam, I’ve told you this a million times. She deserves better. I’m not going to give up on my mom, but I refuse to live with them.”

  “You need to learn to let that stuff go.”

  “Oh, really? And when was the last time you spoke to your dad?”

  “That’s not the same. My dad and I have totally different issues.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.”

  “Anyway, that’s besides the point. You’re going to have to get over your hatred of your stepdad if you don’t get a job and a roommate soon.”

  She draws in a long stuttered breath as she turns to look out the window.

  “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

  “It’s fine,” she says, still looking out the window. “I know I must seem like a total loser to you now; getting pregnant before graduation and letting Nathan convince me to wait to get a job until the baby was born.”

  “You’re not a loser. I don’t think that.” I pull my truck into a parking space and glance over my shoulder at the car seat as I kill the engine. “But you can’t start feeling sorry for yourself and depending on me to dig you out of this. You ripped my heart out and pretty much ruined my life.”

  “I apologized for what I did to you. And I’m not the one who made you beat the crap out of Nathan.”

  “I don’t want to talk about that right now. The point is that you can’t depend on me. I’m not the person I was when we were together. I’ve moved on.” She finally turns to face me and the hurt in her eyes makes my stomach twist. “I’ll help you out with this stuff for the baby, but you need to get a car or a bus pass or something soon. I can’t keep doing this.”

  She looks like she’s about to cry, but she quickly composes herself and climbs down out of the truck. I hurry over to her side to help her get the baby out of the car seat since the truck is raised. Kaia wakes up when I pull her out of her car seat. She scrunches her eyes and stretches her arms as her mouth opens wide as if she’s about to start wailing, but she doesn’t. I hand her over to Lindsay and she has a smile on her face.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  She shakes her head and smiles. I’m pretty certain she saw the panic on my face as I anticipated Kaia’s screams.

  “Nothing,” she whispers as she takes Kaia in her arms.

  As I watch her kiss Kaia’s forehead and comfort her, I’m reminded of the time when I assumed that Lindsay and I would be getting married and raising a child together. It’s funny how nothing really ever turns out the way we expect it to, no matter how certain the future seems. I guess we need to keep adjusting our dreams to fit reality, because life is not going to cooperate. Maybe this makes me a defeatist, but I’d prefer to think of myself as a realist.

  As we walk toward the clinic, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and smile instantly when I see a good morning text from Claire.

  “Is that her?”

  I look up from the screen and quickly pull open the door for Lindsay to enter the clinic. “Yes. And her name is Claire.”

  And she’s the most beautifully broken girl I’ve ever met.

  Chapter Six

  Chris

  Once the studio was booked, the only thing left for me to do was to reschedule the physical therapy for my leg. I can’t do that shit right now. The screws holding the rod in my shin make my knee hurt like a bitch, but no one will ever hear me complain about it—especially not Tristan or Jake.

  I enter the control room at Reverb Room and immediately set down my guitar on the floor, propped against the control desk. I sit on the edge of the desk and try not to make it obvious that I’m doing this to rest my leg. Tristan is sitting in the desk chair with his back to the controls and Jake is on the other side of the glass partition, in the main room, setting up his drums.

  “Gene and the sound tech are late. Xander snuck off to the lobby to stuff his fat face with donuts,” he says, glancing at my leg when I attempt to bend the knee a little.

  All this walking around, checking out studios this past weekend, has fucked me up. I’ve only had the cast off for two and a half weeks. I should be lying in bed with this leg elevated, but I need to get this record finished. My first self-titled album. Sometimes I don’t even recognize my life anymore.

  “Did they say how long it would be until they get here?”

  Tristan shrugs. “I think they’ll be here any minute. Hey, do you have the phone number for Claire’s friend, Celia, or whatever the fuck her name is?”

  “I’m not giving you her number. I don’t need you fucking shit up for me with Claire.”

  “All right. I know her name. It’s Senia. Can I have her number now? I want to apologize.” I narrow my eyes at him and he raises his eyebrows. “What? I was a dick to her. I want to make things right in case she goes to Rachel’s wedding with Claire.”

  “Did you run out of girls to fuck or something?”

  He runs his hand through his brown shoulder-length hair and grins. “Yeah, you of all people should know that will never happen.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “Nothing. Just give me the fucking number.”

  “Fuck you. I’m gonna go wait in the isolation room.”

  I make sure to walk without a limp as I leave the control room and make my way across the main room, past where Jake is setting up, then into the soundproof isolation room where I’ll do the voice recordings for each track. Once I get in the room. I shut the door and climb carefully onto the stool under the microphone.

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and see I have three texts: one from Jake and two from random numbers I don’t recognize. I deleted all the girls’ numbers I had saved in the address book in my phone when Claire and I got back together for those five days. Since then, I get occasional texts from numbers I don’t recognize. I usually just delete them, but this last message piques my interest.

  Unknown: We’re willing to meet next week if your girlfriend promises to not upset Abigail.

  This is not a random girl and this is not at all what I expected. Abby’s parents have never given me their phone number and they have refused to respond to my adoption lawyer, Tasha Singer’s, messages for the last four weeks. I’m
beginning to think that maybe it’s Tasha who has rubbed them the wrong way and not Claire and me.

  I just hope Claire isn’t upset that I lied to them and said we were back together. I thought it might increase our chances of getting a meeting with them if we appeared to be united and stable, like we’re doing this as much for our love of each other as our love for Abby. This is definitely true for me. Just the idea that Claire may not feel the same way makes me sick.

  Glancing into the main room, I see Jake has finished setting up his drums and the studio manager is in there helping Tristan get set up. The sound tech is probably here. I’ll have to call Claire later. But, for now, I can’t pass up this opportunity. I have to respond to this text.

  Me: Next week is great. I promise everything will go smoothly. Thanks for this opportunity. I’ll be in touch. - Chris

  I then shoot off another text to Claire.

  Me: I have good news. You’re going to get to see Abby next week. What day/time works for you?

  The studio manager, Jerry, signals to me through the glass. I’m not sure if he’s asking me to test the mic, but I have to wait for Claire’s response first.

  Claire: Really? I don’t even know what to say. How did you make this happen?

  Me: I promise there was no money involved. I did it because I love you and Abby.

  There’s another pause and I watch anxiously as Jerry approaches the isolation room. He pops his head in and his bushy moustache wiggles when he raises his eyebrows.

  “There a problem with the mic?”

  “Nope. Just need a couple of minutes. I’m almost ready.”

  He glances at the phone in my hand and nods before he leaves the room.

  Claire: Any time after 4 pm M-Th & after 6 on Fri. Weekends open. Thank u so much. U just made me so happy.

  I grin as I imagine her sitting in class with a smile on her face. Nothing makes me happier than Claire’s smile. I think seeing her smile while holding Abby might cause me to reach some kind of happiness overload. It will be difficult to see Abby go home with Brian and Lynette Jensen, but it will be worth it to know that Claire will finally get to feel what I felt. Who knows? Maybe then, both of us will be able to move on and find peace knowing that Abby is in good hands. Maybe then, we’ll find strength in each other knowing that we were both willing to do whatever it took to make each other’s dreams come true.

  Chapter Seven

  Claire

  Love is not black and white. It’s not even gray. Love is every shade of color in the spectrum, changing with every ray of light given and stolen. Sometimes you forget how much you love someone, until you realize their smile is like a spotlight shined on your heart.

  I love Senia like a sister, and the affection and gratitude I feel for her family is just as strong. They took care of me when I needed a place to hide. While I was pregnant with Abigail, they gave me a home at a time when I was certain I’d never have a home again. The smiles they greet me with as Senia and I arrive at her parents’ house warm my insides.

  “Mi niña!” Senia’s mother, Nancy, cries as she greets me with her arms wide open.

  “Hi, Nancy.” I laugh as she hugs me and shakes me like a ragdoll. “I missed you.”

  “Oh, baby, we missed you, too,” she says as she lets me go. “Are you hungry? The turkey’s not ready yet, but we have some tamales on the stove.”

  Senia looks at her mom incredulously. “Hello? Do I even exist?”

  “Oh, shut up, Senia. Your thighs don’t need any more tamales,” Nancy says as she winks at me.

  Senia rolls her eyes. “Come with me to my room,” she says to me as she nods toward the stairs. “I have to show you something.”

  We make our way through the maze of relatives and old world décor up to the second floor. Senia slams her bedroom door shut behind us as we enter the room. I recognize the fruity scent in her bedroom, where I practically hid under the covers for six months.

  Senia pulls her phone out the front pocket of her jeans and hands it to me before she leaps onto her bed.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” she says as I read the text message she has open on the screen.

  Tristan: Happy Thanksgiving, Senia. Hope you’re spending it with the ones you love.

  I look up from the screen and Senia is lying down with her head propped up on one hand while she pats the bed for me to sit down. I sit on the edge of the bed and lay the phone down next to me.

  “How did Tristan get your number? And why do you have it programmed in your address book?”

  “He texted me a couple of days ago just to say hi. I ignored the text, but I saved his number.”

  “Because?”

  “Just in case.”

  “In case you want to be treated like dirt?”

  “We don’t all have two hot guys fighting over us.” I try to stand, but she grabs my arm to stop me. “Hey, I’m sorry. I’m just feeling weak.”

  “Did Eddie call you again?” She nods and the anger I felt when Senia’s cheating ex-boyfriend called her last week returns. “You don’t need to be with an asshole. You are beautiful and smart—”

  “And I give a mean bj.”

  “Exactly. You don’t need a guy who’ll fuck anything with legs. You deserve a guy who’ll worship you.”

  “So you think Tristan’s just looking for a fuck?”

  I don’t even answer because this question is ridiculous.

  “Do you think Chris gave him my number? How did he get my number?”

  “I don’t know, but if it was Chris, I’m going to have a talk with him about that.”

  “No, don’t get mad at him. I’ll take care of Tristan. I’ll text him a picture of my bunion. He’ll never text me again.”

  I try not to laugh because, sadly, I know Tristan is too persistent to be deterred by a picture of her gnarly bunion. Standing from the bed, I make my way to the dresser where she has a picture of the two of us framed in a pink “Best Friends Forever” picture frame. It’s a picture taken last Thanksgiving when her uncle took us to his house in Carolina Beach. I was four months pregnant, so I wore a big T-shirt to hide my bulge and hardly spoke to anyone the whole weekend, afraid they’d hear the betrayal in my voice.

  “I’m going to see Abigail on Monday,” I say as I pretend to be interested in the other framed pictures on her dresser.

  “What? How did this happen? Oh, my goodness, Claire! Are you sure this is what you want?”

  She leaps off the bed and rushes to my side.

  I pause a moment before I look up into her eyes and respond firmly. “I need to see her, even if it’s just this once. I don’t know if I can even explain to you the ache I feel inside. It’s excruciating and it consumes me, day and night. I just want to see her.”

  “You don’t think it might make it worse?”

  “I don’t know, but this is not the kind of thing I want to play it safe with. This is my daughter. I’ve never seen her and I already feel like I might die without her. I just need to see her, at least once. I need to know that she’s real. I need to see this beautiful person that Chris and I created.” I pause to wipe the tears from my face. “I don’t know if you can understand that, but that’s how I feel. It’s what I need.”

  She stares at me for a moment and her big brown eyes shine as if she’s hatching a devious plan inside her twisted mind. “Claire, I’ve known you long enough to know that you wouldn’t do this unless it was right for you. You have some kind of weird radar for that shit. I also think that I may have misjudged Chris.”

  “Are you being serious?”

  “Yes, I was pissed about the fact that he never got in touch with you all those months you were living here, but I think I just realized something and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.” She pauses as she takes a breath and steels herself to speak whatever words she’s about to say. “I think you needed Adam to show you how much you still love Chris.”

  That is not at all what I expected her to say and I’m actual
ly a little pissed. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to say that Adam was a stepping-stone.”

  “I don’t want to hear this. Can we just go downstairs?”

  She nods and hangs her head apologetically, but I’m still upset with her. I clench my jaw to keep from uttering an angry retort. Adam was not a stepping-stone.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and follow Senia out of the bedroom. I open my message app and look at the last text I received from Adam.

  Adam: I’ll be in Carolina Beach with family tomorrow, but first I’m stopping by Cora’s. I’ll be thinking of you.

  I’m not sure if he remembers telling me that Lindsay’s family lives in Carolina Beach, but I know that his dad and mom live in Wilmington. I’m sure he’s probably referring to another relative. He has a million aunts, uncles, and cousins. I just wish I didn’t have this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach every time I think of this text.

  I don’t think Adam would ever lie to me, but I get the feeling there’s something he’s not telling me. When I asked him why Lindsay called him while we were at the football game, he told me that she needed a ride to the emergency room and her boyfriend was out of town. I didn’t ask him what was wrong with her because something about the way he said it so abruptly made me feel like he didn’t want to talk about it.

  Adam has never wanted to talk about Lindsay, but I never pushed him to because I didn’t really want to talk about Chris either. But things have changed. If we’re supposed to be trying to work things out, we should be offering ourselves to each other completely. Instead, we’re having awkward dates and awkward conversations that go nowhere.

  Thanksgiving dinner is served buffet-style at Senia’s house, and the buffet line snakes through the kitchen as everyone grabs food from all the dishes on the counter. Thanksgiving went from being my least favorite holiday to my favorite holiday after I moved in with Jackie and Chris. Jackie is the best cook and baker in the world, so the extra five to ten pounds I inevitably gained during the holidays were always worth it. Nancy’s a great cook, too, but she doesn’t cook the same foods Jackie does; the foods I’ve come to associate with love and family.

  I heap mashed potatoes, turkey, Nancy’s famous roast pork, a corn on the cob, and some pumpkin pie onto my plate then I follow Senia to the stairs where we eat with our plates in our lap because there aren’t enough chairs at the table for us.

  “Claire, long time no see.”

  Looking up from my half-eaten plate of food, I find Senia’s cousin Nico. He’s carrying his baby boy, whose name I can’t recall at the moment. Nico’s wife was pregnant at the same time as I was when I lived with Senia. They all knew I was going to give up my baby. Senia told them all so they wouldn’t ask me about baby names and gender and all that stuff.

  Nico’s baby was born the month before Abigail, which would make him about eight months old now. He’s pinching the button on the front of Nico’s shirt between his tiny fingers and just the sight of it takes my breath away. I want to run upstairs, but that’s something I would have done a month ago. I have to learn to face this kind of stuff.

  “Hi, Nico. The baby’s so big now.” My voice is shaky, and the sympathetic look on Nico’s face tells me this didn’t go unnoticed.

  “Yeah, little Benny’s been sucking down too much pumpkin juice. He swears he’s going on a diet after the holidays.”

  He kisses Benny’s forehead and I nearly lose it as I imagine Chris holding Abigail and what that would have been like. I guess I’ll find out next week.

  “He’s beautiful,” I whisper. “Just perfect.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says.

  Senia tries to take my plate, but I hold tightly to it. “You can go upstairs,” she whispers. “I’ll tell everyone you weren’t feeling well.”

  “I’m fine,” I say as I stand and put my plate on the step I was just sitting on and turn to Nico. “May I hold him?”

  A smile tugs at the corner of Nico’s mouth as he hands Benny to me. Benny’s eyebrows shoot up, surprised to be handed off to a stranger, but as soon as I