Impossible (16 page)

Instead, I had gone to the liquor store, found a cheap hotel room, and set out to try and erase my problems- the replay of Coleman telling me my daughter was alive that was running through my head on a never-ending loop and the look on Coleman’s face after I had treated him like a royal bitch
while his mother was in the hospital
.

How had this happened? I couldn’t figure out how I had gotten to this point, left something -
someone
- so important to me. Was it possible that I had done
this
?

For once, I worked hard to force the memories to the surface instead of into hiding.

I had been in the car with Josh, my hand rubbing my stomach, and he had looked over at me with his easy smile. His overlong wavy brown hair and gray eyes had glistened when the sun hit them, and it had been easy to see how much he loved me with just that one look.

Focusing hard, I remembered details that I never had before, like seeing the flash of red of the car crossing the center line and coming into our lane out of the corner my eye.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes because I knew this was where any semblance of happy memories ended. From here on out, reliving this was going to be painful, excruciating even, but if I wanted to know the answers, the only person I could ask was myself.

As the impact rocked us, Josh’s arm shot out in what I used to refer to as the ‘mom arm’. As far as effectivity, it was shit, but the sentiment of it meant everything. The sound of the metal bending to the will of the red car was horrifying, and I remember covering my stomach with my arms as I felt something that felt like a thousand white hot needles rip into the side of my right leg. I could hear Josh’s screams of agony mingled with mine for a few seconds, and then nothing. I wasn’t forcing my memory to blank; it just was.

The next memory I have is perhaps the most painful. I woke up in the trauma part of the emergency room, and they were working on Josh in the bed right beside me. The ER was packed for some reason, and it seemed like all hands were on deck, except most of those hands were on Josh. I could see his left hand drooping lifelessly from the bed as they worked frantically above him, and I remember calling out to him, my voice hoarse and almost useless. The nurse working on me tried to calm me down, said something about it being “bad for the baby”, but I ignored her, my every will focused on the man I loved beside me.

That’s when I heard it. The beep that changed my life and signaled the ending of Josh’s. They tried for several minutes to revive him, the beep piercing my ears and heart the whole time, my hysterical cries creating a harmony. The sound of a life lost. A loved one gone. He was unresponsive. Three little words. Time of death.

I wracked my brain for memories after that, but honestly, the alcohol wasn’t helping my cognition. I was hysterical. That I remember. And I think they may have sedated me, but as I went over that day in the hospital those years ago, I realized I never heard them telling me my daughter was dead. Only Josh. That memory was crystal clear.

But, I had only heard the sound of eternal rest once. And the three days after that were a blur. In fact, the next memory I could remember was of my driving away. What had happened in those three days?

Swallowing deep, I accepted what had to be the answer. I had a daughter. A beautiful, innocent combination of me and Josh made out of love. And I left her.

God, years of suppressing the memories that my nightmares stirred in me, and it finally made sense. My subconscious was trying to tell me that I was missing something, that she was alive, by waving the proverbial red sheet at the bull. I’d fought it. All these years, I didn’t let myself relive it, even though my mind was screaming at me that I needed to, and because of that, I’d abandoned my daughter.

Now, in addition to that, I had also alienated people I loved with undo nastiness, and become the kind of woman they already had and despised. The kind who took off and left her child.

In that moment, the clarity of all of my actions overwhelming me, almost swallowing me whole, I hated myself.

Chapter 13

I woke up hungover with the bottle of whiskey still in my hand. After taking one look at my disgusting self, I got up and moved quickly to the shower. I was done wallowing in self pity, and I was definitely done being a coward. But most of all, I was done being away from my daughter.

It took me a minute to realize, but I hadn’t had my nightmare last night, which went right along with my theory that their purpose had been to get me to remember.

To remember that my little girl was alive and waiting for me.

After showering quickly, I threw on the clothes that I luckily kept in my car “just in case” because I had run out of the house yesterday without grabbing anything.

Gathering my few belongings, I ran out of the hotel to my car, jumped in, and started her up. Noticing my cell phone sitting on the dash, I grabbed it and quickly scrolled though my missed calls. Seven from Coleman, five from CJ, and two from an unknown number. Maybe Nan at the hospital. After hitting the end button, I threw the phone back up on the dash and pulled the gearshift down into reverse. I knew I needed to call them, not only to ease their worry but to apologize, but I just couldn’t do it yet.

I backed out of the spot, pulled the gearshift further down into drive, and took off out of the parking lot, headed for my in-laws’ house.

It was only about ten minutes away, but it felt like the longest ten minutes of my life. I took in no details of the town as I drove, completely on autopilot and my mind racing.

I turned left into the neighborhood and crept my way slowly up to the eighth house on the right. It was pale yellow in color, with a dark gray door, roof, and shutters. The lawn was green, and there were a few toys gathered neatly to the side, as if put away after a day of playing outside.

My knuckles turned white from the force with which I gripped the steering wheel, and I broke out into a cold sweat. This was it. She was here. Alive. I could feel it.

My hand went to my scar, but this time for a different reason.

Kicking open my door and jumping out, I slammed my door and hurried up the walk to the front door of their house. I was scared as hell, but I also felt like one more minute without meeting her would kill me.

When I got to the door, I took one last deep breath before my knuckles met the gray paint in a series of successive knocks.

Several tense seconds passed before, finally, the door swung open, and I was face to face with Joanie Russo.

When she saw my face, her hand flew to her mouth and her eyes started to shimmer with tears. “Oh my God.”

I cleared my throat, steeled my nerves, and started my speech. “Joanie, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here sooner. I honestly thought that...” I choked, the words completely stuck in my throat, before whispering, “I thought she was dead, Joanie.”

As a tear escaped her eye, I heard the single most amazing voice I had ever heard.

“Gramma! Who is it?”

Joanie never took her eyes off of me, as the three foot tall, brown-haired, green-eyed, perfect little girl peeked her head out around Joanie’s leg.

Joanie spoke softly, murmuring, “It’s your mommy, Every.” But Every already knew. I could see it in her eyes.

As I realized they had named her what Josh and I had always talked about, I sunk to my knees and tears streaked down my face. We always wanted to name a little girl Every because we knew she would be our
every
thing.

My throat was clogged, and I struggled to find any arrangement of words that would make any of this okay. I had no idea what I should say, so I just went with the only thing I could come up with, words spoken directly from my heart. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been here, Every.”

My voice broke with sincerity, and I suppose, even at three years old, Every could sense it.

Reaching out her hand and resting it on my cheek, she spoke her own version of a soft, comforting voice. “Don’t worry, Mommy. Gramma and Grampa said you would be back.”

They did? I thought to voice this to the beautiful angel in front of me, but she kept right on talking.

“Just as soon as you found the impossibubble.”

Racking my brain quickly to figure out what she was saying, I questioned her with the only thing I came up with. “The impossible?”

“Mmmhmm. They said you had to find the impossibubble. The one person who could fix your broken heart. They said that it wasn’t really impossibubble, you just thought it was.”

Realization hit me, and when it did, it hit hard. Like a freaking anvil being dropped on my head.

I had definitely found that person. In fact, I had found three. And they all had the same last name.

Tears filled my eyes, my throat spasmed closed again, and I found myself having to choke back the sobs fighting to get out. I looked at my little girl with wonder as she asked a final question, her innocent eyes searching mine. “Is your heart fixed, Mommy?”

Having spent last few months getting to know the Cades and feeling the love they had to offer, even when I was broken with relatively little to give in return, and then looking into
my
green eyes set in a sweet, angelic toddler’s face, I knew that it was.

Putting my hand to her cheek, mirroring exactly what she had done with me, I whispered softly, “It sure is, sweetheart.”

Staring at this little combination of me and Josh, my heart clenched and my thoughts ran through the things I now knew to be true.

The Cades had done the ground work, opening me up, getting me ready, and then sending me in the right direction. But the only person who could fully change my outlook, really make me ready for love in all of my relationships, was the loss I would have never gotten over.

Every
.

********

“Three years, Joanie. Three years I left her without a father
or
a mother. Three years, I left that responsibility on your shoulders,” I whispered before shaking my head and letting it hang against my chest.

Taking a few deep breaths, I found my voice again and continued, “How do I live with something like that? How do I go on, give her what she needs and deserves, when all I can seem to feel is how much I hate myself?”

Boy, did I hate myself. I had certainly created a ton of reasons to. Abandoning Every. Leaving people I cared about, Joanie and Michael, with the responsibility of caring for my child. Raising her, all the while never knowing if I would be coming back. They had to break that to Every, try to find a way to make that alright for her, all the while suffering the loss of their own child.

And God, what I had done to Coleman. I had been so freaking selfish. I never once thought about how things were for him, how much he was hurting, how much it probably ate at him being away from his family. God, especially when that had happened to his mother, the one woman who had always been there for him and his son. I had thrown it in his face, petulantly crying about how sorry for myself I was.

It was disgusting.

Joanie’s voice was gentle but firm as she set about trying to answer all of my questions. “Sweetheart. First of all, you give yourself a break.”

I let out a disbelieving puff of air, but she kept right on talking. “I’d say you were suffering from a nasty mix of post-traumatic stress and postpartum when you took off. You might have figured things out sooner if you’d stayed and gotten help, but that’s in the past. We can’t change that any more than we can bring Josh back.”

Pain sliced through my chest at her blunt, albeit gentle, recounting of facts.

“The second part of your answer is to stop thinking about yourself. If you don’t like who you’ve been, be someone different. Think differently, act differently.
Be
different.”

Jesus, she was right. Even sitting here thinking about how selfish I had been, I was still thinking about myself.

“Think about that little girl in there,” she stated, pointing a finger to the back bedroom where we had put Every to sleep for the night. “The way I see it, if you think about her and your future, the only thoughts you’ll be able to have are happy ones.”

Well, it was clear Joanie was two things. She was still the woman I knew, completely forgiving of the weaknesses of others. And secondly, she was right.

As much as I hated all the things that had happened, the things I had done, I couldn’t go back. The only thing to do was move forward and live in a way that was the complete opposite of selfishness. I had to live for Every and sort out the rest as it came.

********

Later that night, after I’d retreated to Joanie and Michael’s guest room, I took some time to think about the man who had done the impossible.

It was obvious that I had wronged him in a variety of ways, but I had given Coleman everything I had to give at the time. Maybe that was a copout, a way to excuse actions that were really inexcusable, but it was the only conclusion I could let myself come to.

Thinking what I did, holding that kind of loss close to my chest, I had done my best. But with Every back in my life and the knowledge that I didn’t have to lose everything even in the worst of situations, I knew I had more to give. I got a piece of myself back. The piece that comes with being a mother. The piece that loves and nurtures and opens itself up to life’s possibilities if for no other reason than being a good example to their child.

I needed this to be my reality because I needed him to be able to forgive me. I had only been away from him for a day, but I already missed him. I was scared of how I would feel if he didn’t let me back in; if he didn’t give me a chance to get to know everything about him. Not only had I been closed off with information about myself, I’d also held myself back from all the things that made him. What were all the details of his past that I only knew now as holes? How did he really feel about raising CJ without the help of Katie? What had Nan been talking about that day when she told me to look closely at her family?

The next few weeks, maybe even months were going to need to be about Every, about building a relationship with her where she could trust me, rely on me to be there, and get used to having her mother in her life. But I knew I would never forgive myself if I didn’t at least give Coleman the apology he deserved.

Reaching for my phone with a shaky hand, I steeled myself for the possibility that he wouldn’t want to hear from me, the possibility that his voice would be filled with venom the way it was the night before.

Moving to my contacts, I brought up
<3 Boyfriend’s Cell <3
and hit go.

It rang four times, each one making my heart beat that much faster, and then clicked over to voicemail.

“Hey, you’ve reached Cade. You know what to do.”

Beep.

My palms were sweaty, my body was shaking, and my voice came out sounding more than a little scared as I murmured, “Coleman...it’s Roni. Shit. You probably know it’s me. Um, anyway...I don’t really know what to say other than...I’m sorry. God, Coleman, I’m so sorry.”

Freaking out and on the verge of tears yet again, I pulled the phone away from my ear frantically and punched the screen with my finger until I managed to end the call.

What a joke it was that I had wanted to get rid of him, to find a way to escape his love.

I had done it.

In spectacular, absolute clusterfuck-tastrophy fashion.

Congratulations, you seriously messed up idiot of a woman.

God, I really needed him to forgive me.