48

One month later

I woke to the sound of the tide lapping at the deck behind the in-law-suite. As I crawled out of bed, I slumped to the bathroom, grabbing the pregnancy test as I went.

The results were the same as the last three I’d taken this past week. I tossed it onto the pile in the trash, with the rest of the positive tests, and pressed my face to my hands.

A spiral of thoughts started pulling me down, and I washed my hands. Staring at myself in the mirror, I resisted the urge to touch my stomach. Ten years had passed, but wasn’t I right back where I’d started?

Pregnant with Lorenzo’s baby again and all alone.

Was I doomed to repeat this cycle for the rest of my life?

What would this mean for Cecilia? I felt like I’d just gotten into a good groove as her mother. Would this destroy that?

Opening the sliding glass door of the studio apartment, I stepped out into the chilly November morning, a mist hanging over the crisp Connecticut shoreline.

It was Sunday, my one day off from the restaurant I'd worked at for the last month. My days outside work were the most difficult. With no distraction and nothing to keep me busy, the thoughts I tried to avoid kept creeping into the empty space in my mind, taking me to a place I didn't like.

But the thoughts didn't bother me as much as the feelings that came with them. I couldn't even identify the thoughts if I'd tried. It was more just an overwhelming sensation of guilt, shame. Mainly just sadness.

It was those feelings that had led me to spend my days off walking to the playground at the end of the small neighborhood I'd been living in. And of course, seeing the children play only made me think of Cecilia.

I lasted two hours on my first Sunday off before I made the call to Alistair.

And now, four Sundays later, he'd come to expect my call.

Sitting on the bench in the back of the playground, I dialed his number, and he picked up on the first ring.

"Hey," he said.

I hesitated, taking a deep breath. Every part of me wanted to tell him about baby number two. I hadn’t spoken those words out loud yet, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.

"Hi."

"How are you?" The background noise sounded different than usual, and I immediately picked up on the sounds of a wind gust, of laughter.

Before I answered his question, I asked my own. "Where are you?"

"Cecilia wanted to go to the playground after lunch today."

"After your lunch with Lorenzo?" I asked.

I'd gotten to know his schedule just like he'd gotten to know mine. Him and Lorenzo had created a schedule to split their days of watching Cecilia. Lorenzo had her during the week and Alistair on the weekends, but Lorenzo took them to brunch every Sunday.

"Yeah," Alistair hesitated. "Lorenzo couldn't make it to lunch today, though."

I crossed my arms, chewing my lips. "Oh, why not?"

"He had some work thing today. But you know that you can call him and ask. He talks about you every day."

My heart skipped. "You haven't told him about our calls, have you?"

"No, Ophelia. You asked me not to. Believe it or not, I can actually keep a secret."

"I trust you, Alistair. I just...I just need a second to breathe."

"A second, I get, Ophelia. But it's been a month. When are you coming home? It's the question on everyone's mind."

"I don't know," I whispered. "I’m just afraid of disappointing her, Alistair. I feel like I'm going to fuck up again."

"Ophelia, every parent fucks up. That's part of the job. But you're disappointing her by not being here."

"At least, she has the two of you."

Alistair sighed. "And she's happy. And doing well. But you're the person who has been in her life longer than anyone."

"And I will still be here. Always," I said. "I only need to be able to trust myself first."

"I get it. And I'm glad you're still calling. Because believe it or not, I miss you."

"I miss you too." I took a deep breath. "Can you ask her if she wants to talk?"

"I can try." He was silent for a second, and then I heard him call Cecilia's name. "It's mommy. Do you want to talk to her?"

There was a muffled response that I couldn't make out, and a moment later? Alistair came back on the phone. "I'm sorry, Ophelia. She's just not feeling it. She's upset."

Emotion choked in my chest. "I get it. Will you just...will you just tell her that I love her?"

"Of course, sis. Always."

"I'll call you soon." I hung up before any tears could spill.

The afternoon passed in a daze, and eventually, I made my way to a local restaurant to grab a bite. The servers had gotten used to my presence, and although they never called me by name, it was clear by their expressions and the hushed whispers that occasionally trailed me that they recognized me.

Half way through eating my flat bread, a conversation of two men sitting at the bar beside me caught my attention.

"Look at this prick. Can you believe it?"

I glanced over and realized they were pointing at the television. Following their gaze, I looked up and saw Jonathan Calamari hosting a press conference on the screen. I skimmed the headline and nearly dropped the flatbread on the plate.

Fraud charges dropped against Boston mayor, Jonathan Calamari.

"Um, can you turn that up?" I asked the server.

She smiled at me, grabbed the remote, and turned it up.

My stomach churned at the sound of Jonathan's voice. His grin made me want to vomit. "Yes, yes," Jonathan was saying. "I couldn't be happier with the DA's decision to drop the charges as I've been cleared of any wrongdoing."