Pitcher's Baby (13 page)

“Don't worry about it, Charlee. Just
please tell me what the hell is going on.”

“I will, but not here,” I say, realizing
we are both still sitting in the middle of her front yard. My car door is wide
open and beeping incessantly. I stand and grab my bag from the backseat before
shutting the door and following Ashlin inside.

“Are you hungry?”

“No. Not even a little bit, but I'll take
a Dr. Pepper if you have one.” I couldn’t eat right now if Nick Bateman showed
up wearing nothing but a smile and offered to hand feed me Mexican food. My
whole world feels like it has been turn upside down and ripped out from under
my feet. You would think that after the life I’ve lived I'd be used to chaos
and assholes being . . . well, assholes. But no. Apparently, some part of me
still held out hope that one day everything would work out. One day, everything
would make sense.

I'm still waiting for that to come.

“Ok, chick, here's your drink. Now spill.”

I take my Dr. Pepper from her, afraid she
will try holding it hostage, and I tell her my story. I start at the beginning.
The day I first met her—my mother—and I tell her about everything I remember.

Every detail.

Every smell.

Every taste.

Every feeling.

Every fear.

She starts crying about five minutes in,
and I offer to stop, but she tells me she will beat me with her flip flop if I
do, so I keep going, purging it all from my system once and for all. I haven't
spoken about any of this since the day I came home and had to tell my dad. I
could have gone the rest of my life not remembering it now, but they took that
choice away from me. My throat is raw when I finish, but my heart is
surprisingly light. It feels good to share this with Ashlin, to trust her with
my secrets.

It’s been so hard all these years to hide
the secrets of my past from everyone I come across. Not many people have ever
dealt with a parent on drugs, and that was horrible, but then to come home to a
completely changed father too . . . it was hell. It took a lot of years for me
and Aaron to get past the anger we both felt toward him for the way he treated
us when we growing up. Luckily, he quit drinking when he found out about the
cancer and we got our old dad back.

I expect her to look at me differently. I
expect to see the disgust in her eyes, or the pity hiding behind her smile, but
none of that is there. All I see when I finally look back at her is anger.

Anger.

For me.

“I can't believe the nerve of her. Oh my
God, Charlee. That woman in your kitchen was your mother,” she says, finally
making the connection. I nod.

“Yeah. That's the egg donor.”

“Now I get why you flipped the hell out.
But what the hell was your brother thinking?”

“That, princess . . . is the question of
the day.”

We are both worn out from the emotionally
taxing conversation, so when Ashlin offers to put on a movie, I agree quickly.
She falls asleep within twenty minutes, snoring lightly, and I lie here in the
bed thinking.

What were you thinking, Aaron?

To each his own and all that nonsense.

But he shouldn't have brought her into the
house. And he should have at least warned me.

I deserve that much.

I stand from the bed and grab a blanket
and lay it over Ashlin. She doesn't budge. I wish I could sleep that
peacefully. Without the nightmares. Without the memories.

Unable to resist it any longer, I grab the
box and lift the lid. Reaching in, I pull the envelope from the very back. The
first letter. My hands are shaking while I try to talk myself out of this.

I can't.

I need to do this.

I tear open the envelope.

My Dearest Charlee,

I wish I could be there with you now to
tell you how much I love you and how very sorry I am for everything I put you
through.

I wish I could do it all over again,
because I would, baby. I would do every SINGLE thing differently.

I would love you . . . MORE.

I would hold you . . . tighter.

I would read to you every night before bed
and lightly kiss your temple.

I would watch you ride your bike while you
listened to Billy Ray Cyrus.

I would sing along with you.

I know how hard it is for you to read this,
how hard it has to be for you to believe me, but it is the truth, Charlee. I do
love you, and I miss you, and I am so, so sorry. I hurt you so much. I betrayed
you in the worst way a mother can. I should have loved you. I should have
protected you.

I was weak.

I failed you.

I hope one day you will find it in you to
forgive me.

With love always,

Mom

The words blur on the page until I can't
read them anymore. All I see over and over is I.

I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I
I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I I

Just like it's always been. It's always
been all about her. Given the one chance in the world to express how she felt,
and all she could talk about was herself.

What she should have done.

How she should have felt.

What she wants me to do.

Typical. I hate her so much right now in
this moment. I have spent so many years suppressing the way I feel about her
and the things she did, and now that I am faced with them head on, it all comes
rushing back. She makes me sick.

I hate her.

I hate the fact that she is my mother.

I hate that all she has ever or will ever
care about is herself.

What about what I want? What about how I
feel? What about all the things that I need to hear? Where are those words? I
can’t find them.

I ball the letter up and toss it back into
the box and grab another. I read them until I can't stand to read anymore. Until
all the words blur together into a never-ending line of nothingness. Every word
written is a wasted apology. Never once does she ask how I am. Never once does
she even pretend to be a mother.

Because she isn't.

She is a donor.

It's two in the morning, and I still haven’t
slept. I don't think I’ll be able to. My brain won't shut off no matter how
badly I need it to. Or how much I want it to. I know Everly will be up soon
wanting a bottle, and if I want to get any sleep tonight, I need to try, but I
don’t see it happening. My nerves are on edge, and my mind is spinning in a
million different directions. I was supposed to feel safe and welcome here, and
now Aaron has taken that from me by letting her come here and stay in my home
where my daughter sleeps. I’m sure he has his reasons, and they are probably
really good ones, otherwise he wouldn’t have done it, but I don't really care.

It doesn't matter.

Nothing does.

No. I take that back. One thing matters.
One thing matters a lot.

Why?

Why
is she at my house?
Why
is she back in this town?
What
does she want? Because if there is one
thing I have learned about my mother, she always, ALWAYS wants something.

I hope she is prepared to be disappointed.

I have nothing left to give.

Because of her.

I am
broken.

Chapter
Twenty- Four

Charlee

I have to get up and get ready for class.
I have been lying here in the dark watching the numbers on the alarm as they
shift forward with each minute that passes. Ashlin’s alarm is about to go off
in 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1.

BEEP. BEEP.

I slap it before the third beep. Ashlin
shifts in the bed and then sits up, rubbing her tired eyes and groaning. It's
so nice to know that we are the same in something. We both absolutely detest
mornings. I have never understood why they made the start of school so early in
the mornings. Don't they realize how many more children would show up prepared
and ready to succeed if they started the day around 11 in the morning? I know .
. . wishful thinking.

“Morning.” I groan, sitting up and
stretching my back.

“Coffee.”

I laugh at her. She turns her head toward
me like a zombie searching for its next meal. Her head cocks to the side as she
tries to understand me. She probably thinks I have lost my marbles—hell, maybe
I have—because I can't help but laugh at her even more now. She ignores me as
she climbs from the bed and makes her way to the shower. I decide to take pity
on her and grab her a cup of coffee from the kitchen to make up for laughing at
her. I should probably grab myself one too, considering I didn't sleep at all
last night.

When I walk back in the room, Ashlin is
done in the shower and standing next to the bed, looking in the box. I balled up
every letter I read last night and tossed them back in there for safekeeping. I
figure if I ever come close to forgiving her, one look in the box will remind
me why I can't.

“Two questions,” she says, holding up the
first finger.

“One . . . is that coffee for me?” I pass
her the coffee made just the way she likes it—with lots of cream and sugar. She
takes a tentative sip and then sighs heavily.

“Two . . . are all these from her?”

“Yeah,” I reply.

“Okay then.”

This right here is just another reason I
love this girl. She is curious. I know she is. She probably wants to know what
each letter in this box says and how I feel about it, but she won't ask. She
won't pry. She will wait for me to come to her when I’m ready to talk about it.

“You can read them. I'm done with them
now.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is nothing on those pages that I
don't already know. My mother is a piece of shit. She is a heartless bitch who
has only ever cared about herself. Eleven years in prison didn't change that
about her. If anything, it probably made her more ruthless and cutthroat, if
that was even possible. I don’t know many people who went to jail for
kidnapping their children. I have absolutely no desire to have anything to do
with her. The sooner she figures that out, the better off we will both be. I
damn sure don’t want her around my daughter. She tried her best to ruin me. I won’t
let her sink her greedy claws into Everly.”

“I see.”

She doesn't say another word about it. She
closes the box and slides it under her bed and then finishes her coffee while
she gets dressed for school. I almost want to ask her opinion. I get the
feeling that she thinks I’m making a mistake, but she doesn't say that and I
don't ask. The subject is closed. I slam the lid shut on it. We finish getting
ready in silence, both of us too caught up in our own thoughts to make small
talk. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but it still bothers me. Ashlin is
always so open and free and, here it is not even twenty-four hours after I tell
her about my past, and she is already shutting down.

It never fails. Every time I let someone
get close enough to see me, it ends the same way. No one knows how to care
about someone whose life is hell. No one has ever been able to see past it. I
really had hopes that Ashlin would not be like everyone else.

You were wrong.

No one loves you.

No one wants you.

Yeah, I know. I get it. Don’t worry. I
won’t forget this time.

I hate the thought of going back there
today, but a part of me knows I need to. I need to hear his side of the story
and figure out why he let her in our house. Don't get me wrong, I’m fine with
him forgiving her and moving on if that is something he wants to do, but I hope
like hell he doesn’t expect the same thing from me. I just can’t. That woman
ruined my life. I would never be the same person I was before I met her.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull
it out to see who is texting me. I have four notifications. I open the one from
Lucas first.

Lucas
: WYD beautiful?

Me
: Studying

Lucas
: I miss your
lips.

Me
: Lol thanks?

Lucas
: Ha. Is that a
smile I sense?

Lucas
: When you're
ready to talk, I'm here, ok?

How did he know? I thought that I was
doing really good at hiding the fact that I was upset.

Me
: TY

Next I open the message from my Aaron.

Twin
: Talk after class?

Me
: Sure

And last, I have two messages from Ashlin.
These I want to ignore for a little while longer. My finger hovers over her
name, weighing my options before I press it to the screen opening her text.

Ashlin
: Andy called me
while I was in the shower. Cassie is pregnant. Can you believe that? I think
I'm still in shock.

Ashlin
: I miss your
face.

I reread over the text a few more times,
letting them both sink in. I remember seeing her with her phone in her hand
while she looked in the box and the way her face was pale as snow, but
selfishly, I assumed it was because of me and everything I dumped on her the
night before. Never did I think it could be something else. I am so stupid. I
should have had more faith in our friendship.

I failed her the same way my mother failed
me. I made everything all about me without taking anything or anyone else into
consideration.

Me
: R U serious?

Me
: Fuck.

I know she never loved Andy, but the fact
that he is telling her Cassie is pregnant still has to cut deep. She has been
dating him exclusively for over a year now. In order for Cassie to already know
she is pregnant, she has to be at least six weeks along, which means Andy has
been cheating for a while now.

Fuck.

Me
: I'm so sorry. Want me
to grab the baseball bat or the cookies?

Ashlin
: Cookies.

Ashlin
: And chocolate .
. . lots of chocolate.

Me
: Done. ILY boo.

Ashlin
: Well duh, lol.

That last text goes further to let me know
how she is handling this than anything else. If she is able to joke around and laugh,
then I know she will be okay, and the stoic Ashlin from this morning was just
her trying to process everything and deal with it. I can totally understand
that.

Ashlin meets me at my car after school,
and we head to my house together. I texted her earlier and let her know that I
had to swing by there for a minute for the talk, and she offered to come with
me for emotional support. After my meltdown yesterday, I thought it was a good
idea to have someone there . . . on my side. I'm really thankful for her offer,
even if I don't know how to say it out loud. Her support means the world to me.
Knowing she has my back in every part of my life . . . that is epic.

We round the corner to my house, and I'm
surprised to see a car already in the drive. Not just any car, but Lucas’s car.

“What on earth?”

“Oh, I forgot! I might have asked Lucas to
meet us here. I figured having one more person here behind you couldn't hurt.”
I can see she is embarrassed to admit it. She looks at me, begging me not to be
mad at her, and I try really hard.

“Ash, how could you? He doesn't even know
what's going on,” I say, and then a thought strikes me. “He doesn't know, does
he, Ashlin?” I look over sharply, watching her for any sign of mischief. Her
eyes round in shock, telling me she hasn't betrayed me.

“No! Char, I didn't tell him anything. He
cornered me earlier and asked if you were ok. I just said you were dealing with
some stuff at home and it was taking its toll on you. He offered to help. I
swear.”

“Okay. Okay, I believe you. Now what do I do
with him?”

“Just let him stay. He wants to be there
for you. Let him.”

I know she is right. I need to open up and
let him in the way he let me in yesterday when he told me all about the loss of
his son. I just don't know how. I have spent so long shutting everyone and
everything out that I honestly couldn't remember how to
not
shut
everyone out. Tapping on my window pulls me from my internal thoughts. Lucas is
standing next to my window, his hands tucked into his back pocket as he shifts
from foot to foot, causing his shirt to pull up at the waist. I want to reach
out and run my fingers along the sexy V I see peeking out. Luckily, my door is
still shut so I don't embarrass myself. I open the door, looking up at the sky.
The sun is nowhere to be seen. It seems a bit ominous to me. A dreary day for a
shitty conversation with my shitty family. Yay me.