In to Her

Upstairs I hear AJ and Yvette walking across the floor. Then some muted talking. There must be a vent in here connected to the bathroom.

Snow has stopped. There’s even a hazy ray of sunshine on the trees.

And as if on cue, I hear a rumble. Like a fleet of snowplows going past the bar, clearing the highway, and just underneath that, I hear a ringing phone.

Well, I guess this little sideshow is over. Really is time to get back to business.

I hunt through the clothes, find a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for me, but nothing for AJ. And I’m just about to turn and leave when I spy a box of baby clothes on the floor.

I pick up a dress and stare at it. Peach-colored. With soft white, eyelet lace around the neck. There’s a stain on the front of it. Like this dress could’ve been worn yesterday.

“Find anything?” Yvette says.

I drop the dress back into the box and turn around. She’s put her clothes from earlier back on but her feet are bare.

“Uh, yeah.” I hold up the clothes. “These OK?”

She nods. But I can tell it bothers her a little. Or maybe she’s thinking about the baby.

“That was her favorite dress,” she says.

Guess it’s the baby that’s bothering her.

And just thinking that in my head—the casual, emotionless way it comes across, even internally—makes me wonder what kind of person I am.

It’s all well and good to dream, right? To say, We’re going to that island. It’ll be fine. Trust me, I have a plan.

But I’m callous. Even I know that. I’m a fucking stone when it comes to emotions. And even though I know that, and have always known that, it’s disturbing to actualize it in this moment.

“It’s a nice dress,” I say, trying to be normal.

Yvette huffs, then holds out my phone. “A call came through,” she says. “Upstairs. It was Damon.”

“Oh,” I say.

“Yeah. Guess the storm’s over, right?”

I nod. “Yeah. I just heard the plows go by on the highway.”

She bites her lip and frowns.

“Yvette,” I say. “There’s just one thing I need to ask you.”

“What’s that?”

“The other baby,” I say. “Damon’s—”

“It’s probably not his,” she says, irritation in her voice. “So I’d prefer if you didn’t call him that.”

“Oh, right.” She’s right. There’s no telling who the father of that child is. “But… you know where he is, right?”

She stares at me hard for a moment. “Why?”

“Because I want to know. I don’t want you to lie to me. I’m taking a huge risk here, Yvette. So I need the truth in order to make accurate decisions.”

She thinks about this for several moments.

Upstairs I hear AJ walking around again.

“He didn’t see the phone call come in,” she says. “It was on silent. I just happened to glance over at it while I was getting dressed. It fell out of your pocket.”

“OK,” I say, then wait. But she doesn’t answer my question. “We could go get him, “ I offer.

“Who?” she asks.

“Your son, Yvette. We could go get him.”

“He’s not mine. Not anymore. He has a family. I won’t steal him away from that normal life I risked everything to provide just to make myself feel better.”

“Right,” I say. “Never mind.”

I drop the towel and start pulling on the jeans. She watches me. Thoughtfully now. Then says, “But I did lie. I do know where he is.”

I hold my breath. Say nothing.

“He’s in New Mexico living on an Indian reservation. With the Nightingale people.”

I nod. “Well… good,” I say. “Good. I’m glad you figured it all out and…” I don’t finish. Because it’s stupid.

“I thought about it though,” she adds. “After Chris and Bonnie died. I thought… he’s mine. I should go get him. It would’ve helped? Maybe?”

She looks at me like she needs this idea to be validated. So I say, “He is yours. You’re his mother. And at least if he was with you, you’d have more than nothing.”

She swallows hard and nods. “Yeah.”

“So why didn’t you?”

She shrugs. “I was too sad to start the fight, ya know?”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“Because there would’ve been a fight. If there wasn’t, if they didn’t fight for him, well, then I made a mistake when I signed him over for adoption. And I can’t live with that. So there would have been a fight.”

“I’m sure they would’ve fought hard.”

We stare at each other for a moment. Then, just as I’m about to say some other stupid, off-the-cuff thing that will make her feel worse, my phone lights up.

I’m holding it in my hand so Damon’s name shows up on the screen.

“I’ll let you take care of that,” Yvette says, then turns away and disappears.

I sigh at the phone, then tab accept and say, “Yeah.”

I listen as Damon talks on the other end.

I nod my head as he goes on and on about us disappearing. Say things in between his rants. Things like, “Blizzard.” And, “No cell service,” and, “Not yet. But soon.” And “Yup.” And, “You got it.” And, “Call you when I’m done.” And then, finally, “See you tonight.”