Unwanted Page 12

  Thinking of Aspen has me excited to see her. I have never been gone longer than a couple of hours at night and then, of course, during the day when I’m at work. The second I’m off the clock, I go get Aspen. Sure, she has great care with the three women I trust with my daughter’s life, but she deserves to be around her parents as much as possible. Since I’m her only parent at this moment who can care for her, I make the sacrifices that need to be made. Sure, I don’t get to go to the gym anymore, but Aspen is so much more than my daughter. She’s my future and the person who deserves all my attention.

  When I walk out of the bathroom after my shower and into the bedroom we are sharing, I see that Emma is out of bed. Grabbing my jeans and a shirt quickly, I go searching for her and see her out back on a small deck. She has a cup of coffee in her hand and a second one, which, I assume, is for me. When I lay a kiss on her forehead, she stands to give me the seat she was sitting on and then I pull her on top of me. It is chilly with the sun barely shining through, but it is not Washington State this time of year.

  “What are you thinking, Ems?”

  Taking in the deepest of breaths, she exhales, and I feel a drop of water fall on my finger. Looking around her, I see she has tears. Before I can say a word, she begins, “I wish I could come home with you, Ty. That is what I’m thinking. I want to come home with you.”

  Turning her face slightly and taking her hot coffee, I set the cup on the table next to me. I consider her almost black eyes and know these are the same eyes as our daughter. “Ems, I wish that, too. I want you home with us so badly, I can taste it. Say the word when you are ready, which I know is not now, and I’ll bring you home.”

  “You mean I’ll be ready when I acknowledge the baby?”

  Oh, this is the heavy stuff Grace asked me to wait on, but I can’t ignore Emma’s question either. Eventually, we’ll have to discuss this. “Yes, sweetheart. I need you strong for Aspen. She needs you to be her mom.”

  Standing up, she looks into the desert of New Mexico. “I’m not sure I can ever be that for her, Ty.” She kneels next to me. “I know everyone thinks I’m awful for abandoning her and what is worse, I’m judged ten times harsher than if it were you who left.”

  She won’t get any arguments from me. I have had this discussion many times with people who want to badmouth my wife, and I won’t let that happen. There would be very little fuss if I abandoned my daughter and wife. Sure, I would be called a scumbag, but Emma is here getting help, on her own, and people think she’s awful.

  She stands up again, turning from me. “Do you know how much I want this? How much I want what we always dreamed of? A cuckoo wife was never part of the deal when you said yes to me.”

  Now I’m up and turning her around to look at her dark almost black eyes. It is one of the ways I’m able to look into her soul. “No, Emma, it was not. But it was so much more. I vowed to you ‘in sickness and in health, till death do us part,’ so I may not have said the words of a ‘cuckoo wife,’ which you are not, but I vowed to love you my whole life.”

  I pull her close to me, and it almost seems as though our skin is molding together. Tipping her chin up, I say, “You’re not losing me. We will get past this, and you will be the mom to Aspen you always dreamed of.”

  In the small but relaxing confines of Grace’s office, I sit on a long sofa with Emma as close to me as she can get. I don’t want her to fall apart when I leave, which is not the Emma I once knew, but I’ll take Emma in any way I can get her. Grace sits across from us, and it’s nice to put a face with the voice I have been talking to on the phone for the past month. It is incredibly soothing and may be one reason she does what she does. She’s not at all what I would expect. I was expecting an uptight and rigid doctor like all of Emma’s other doctors, but she’s not. She wears bell-bottoms as if they were taken off the set of Three’s Company or Gilligan’s Island and a muted brown thin sweater. She’s older than Emma and me and plainly pretty if that is indeed a category.

  “Tyler, it’s nice to finally meet you. I know you don’t have long, and Emma is used to me just sort of digging into the hard stuff, so let’s go.” I only nod, and I feel Emma’s hand in mine tighten. “First, Emma, can you tell me what has you so uptight right now? You are normally much more relaxed. I see your husband’s fingers turning bright red.”

  Looking over at her, I watch as she starts to cry. It is odd how in our years together in marriage, I have seen her cry less than three times, but since having Aspen, it is as if the water company has turned on the spigot and has yet to turn it off. Using my free arm, I try to calm her. “Ems, this is me. Just talk to me.”

  Looking at Grace for help and then back at me, Emma says, “No, I want you to ask your questions, please.” Emma is Emma, and if she’s not ready to talk, I can’t make her.

  Grace looks at me and continues, “So, Tyler, what is on your mind concerning Emma’s treatment? Surely, you have questions or concerns. Let’s start with one question. What was the hardest part of this visit for you since being with Emma this weekend?”

  Scraping my hand through my hair, I look from my wife to the therapist, scared to open up. “Honestly?” I ask.

  “Yes, honestly. This is a safe zone. I know you are worried about Emma, but if you two are going to get past this, you have to be honest with each other.”

  Before I have a chance to answer, Emma interrupts. “It would be the baby. The fact I have asked about her once and didn’t want or ask to see pictures. He’s too nice to say that in fear it’ll hurt my feelings.”

  Grace looks at me and back at Emma. Addressing me finally, she asks, “Is that true, Tyler?”

  I was just about to say that when Emma interrupted, but she’s right, I don’t want to upset her further. Answering Grace, I start, “Yes, it would be Aspen. I have these two amazing girls in my life, and I can’t share one with the other. I feel like I’m being asked to choose sometimes. I mean, I know Emma is working hard, and I don’t want to downplay that, but I just want my girls together in the same house again.”

  As I turn to check on my wife, she has turned her head away from me. I can’t see what she’s feeling on her face, and with Emma, I can always tell.

  “Okay, that is a good start. But, Emma, I wanted to use this time to share some of what we are working on with Tyler. Is it okay if I share this with him?” Her voice is soothing again, and I feel Emma relax into her words. Emma nods her head in agreement, still looking away from me.

  “After talking to her daily about what happened, I’m treating her for post-traumatic stress disorder. It is possible she would have experienced postpartum with the baby, but more so, the trauma of Aspen’s birth has led to this. Revisiting the images of the trauma, feeling inadequate to be near Aspen, relationship difficulties, staying away from you intimately early on—though I hear that is not a problem anymore,” Grace adds, and for the first time, we both chuckle.

  “Moving on,” Grace says with a wink. “It has been hard to bond with Aspen, and Emma has isolated herself. I mean, it is all textbook, and some would disagree with my assessment. Obviously, I have medical doctors who say I’m wrong. But we need to treat the trauma, and then we will build a more confident Emma. She needs to have more assurance in herself that she can be a mom to that baby who exists purely because two people loved one another.” My shoulders soften with Grace’s confidence, and my hands reach for Emma, but I can’t find her. She’s moved away from me, and the rigidness returns to my body.

  Turning to Emma, I see she’s not searching out my face. As much as I can read Emma, she can read me just as well. Cupping her face, I kiss her on the forehead and say directly to her, “I have never been filled with such hope in my life. You are coming home to us, Ems. It might take a while, but this is the most hope I have had since the birth of our baby. You get well, and we will be waiting for you at our home.”

  Looking at her watch, Grace stands. “It looks like you probably need to hit the road, Dr. Hunter, if you ar
e going to make your flight. I’ll give you a couple of minutes to say goodbye.” She shakes my hand as I thank her for all she’s doing for my girl, shutting the door behind her.

  Taking Emma into a long and deep embrace, I place another kiss on her forehead. “Ems, I’m so proud of you. I hope you know that.”

  Looking up at me, she allows a couple of tears to stream down her face. “I want to love her. You know that, right?”

  “I do, Emma, I do. I’m sorry for all the times I yelled at you because I thought you chose this. I know now I was wrong.”

  “No, you have nothing to feel bad about. Anyone else would have left me a long time ago.”

  “I’m just not anyone, Ems.” I tilt her chin toward mine. “And you are just not anyone. We are Tyler and Emma. We are fucking awesome together. Don’t you forget that?”

  “Yep, you are right. We are fucking awesome together.” I kiss her one last time. Walking toward the door, I remind her, “We will be waiting for you at home, Emma. You come back to us when you are ready, okay?” She only nods, and I walk out of Grace’s office, barely able to keep it together until I get to the car. Then I lose it.

  30

  Emma

  Tyler wants me home for Aspen’s first Christmas, and when I decline the invite, like I’m just any other normal guest in their life, he doesn’t let me off that simple. “We can fly down and spend it with you.” I don’t say a word, and in my husband’s mind, I can imagine him already planning this New Mexico Christmas together. I’m not sure how to approach this subject with him. I take the coward’s way out and wait to speak with Grace at my next therapy session.

  “What is really the issue, Emma? We have processed the grief with the trauma, and you recall good things associated with the pregnancy. In your mind, you know Aspen is wanted, and when you carried her, you remember those times as some of the best in your life. What is at the root of the issue?”

  She dives into the problems at hand and cringes. “I don’t feel anything for her.”

  “Then maybe you should be around her. I know it is a different kind of love, but you don’t develop feelings for a significant other through telepathy, Emma. You need to be physically present to make it work. I’m not telling you to go home but let them visit. If need be, they can stay in a hotel, where they are not in your face. And when you need time away, you can come back here.”

  Before I can say anything that would explain the fear on a greater level, I start to breathe in deeply, almost panting, and I can’t catch my breath. I’m afraid I will pass out if I don’t get my breathing leveled out in a couple of minutes. Grace, unlike what she has done so many times, stays planted in her seat and watches me. She is not approaching me with her calming touch as I have grown accustomed to. Instead, she instructs me from her seat. “Now, Emma, take deep breaths.” But I need her to help me. Looking at her, as if she is reading my mind, I know she knows what I want.

  “That is okay, Emma. I know you can self-soothe yourself, sweetheart.”

  “No. I. Can’t. Grace.” I barely get out.

  “Yes, you can. You are due to live a life free from this commune. Honey, you are not meant to be here all day away from your family. You can do this.”

  I take in a calming breath, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’m struggling to breathe as I count to five and then exhale to another count of five. In less than five minutes, I’m starting to breathe normal. Grace doesn’t wait to finish this hard subject. “If you truly don’t want Tyler to come for Christmas with Aspen, then you need to call him before he makes any further plans.” Handing me the phone, she looks almost disappointed in me.

  “It is too soon, Grace,” I state.

  “Yes, you have claimed that, but, Emma, them coming is a good thing.”

  Christmas is lonely. Most everyone has left to go home for the holidays. Ellie, who is in the substance abuse program, doesn’t feel she is ready to leave, though she has been incorporated with all the other occupants and is not in what we dub the withdrawal building. Most everyone with substance abuse are not allowed out of that building or off the grounds for at least three months, depending on their specific treatment plan. Once they can stand on their own two feet, they normally mingle with us for a while until they feel safe entering the world with all the pressures of drugs or alcohol.

  I sometimes wonder if Kent should look at this facility for Amanda. Like myself, she has tried so many treatment facilities and none have stuck yet.

  Jolie couldn’t travel, not that she would visit her parents anyway. When I get back to our room after my last therapy session, I see Jolie in bed sleeping. She sleeps a lot lately. I guess I remember feeling that way when I was pregnant. After shutting the door, I grab the new book Tyler sent me for Christmas, along with a large box of other things, and sit with my little lamp book clip, thinking of all he has done for me. Even though he was disappointed I nixed his trip here with Aspen and his attempts to have me fly home, he still went out of his way to make sure I had everything I needed for Christmas.

  Christmas was always my favorite holiday. I would make sure every room had a tree in it and any other Christmas decorations the room warranted. Mom and Dad, never marrying, still made my Christmases so special. Dad stayed the night on Christmas Eve so he could see my face in the morning when I’d run in the room, taking in all that Santa left us. Everyone thought it was weird, with my stepdad and all, but Kent did everything he could to make sure I never felt slighted by having to pick between Mom and Dad.

  Picking up The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo, which I’m sure Ty shook his head at as he tried to find the recent Taylor Jenkins Reid book, I’m one chapter in when Jolie wakes, staring at me. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “You were so quiet that when I looked over at you and that poor excuse for a light, I was startled. You are going to ruin your eyesight if you don’t watch it.”

  I can’t help but chuckle at her. “You already sound like a mom,” I say.

  “I guess I do, honestly. I need more practice so continue with your messed-up shit so I can correct you. This way I can really get my practice in,” she jokes.

  “Oh, I can do some messed-up shit, that is for sure.” I then throw a pillow her way, and for a second, I hope she forgets she’s pregnant with her rapist’s baby, and I forget I can’t even look at my child without a world of guilt crashing down on me.

  After we finish trying to whack one another with our pillows, I sit in front of her. “So what are we going to do for the holidays?” she asks. “It’s just you and me, sister.”

  “Um, I guess we can go into town and do some shopping. Not that any of the packages would get anywhere before Christmas,” I say since it’s the twenty-third.

  “I have a better idea. Let’s go down to the living room and watch some old Christmas movies,” she suggests. “Growing up, my parents and I would watch a movie each night, mainly the old ones like White Christmas or the Holiday Inn.”

  I hear a pang of remorse in her voice. “It sounds like you had a good childhood.”

  She inhales a long breath. “I really did, but now, I’m not sure I’ll ever get it back.”

  “No, I think you will. Once they meet their grandson or granddaughter, they will.” I try to comfort her because something about Jolie makes me want to wrap her up tight and protect her.

  “Granddaughter. This little one will be their granddaughter.”

  She has never mentioned the sex of her baby in the six weeks we have lived together. “A little girl, that’s wonderful.” And I try to pull anything from the air about the little girl I have waiting for me at home. Trying to avoid that thought, I say, “A name, does she have a name?”

  “No, I’m awful with names. Do you mind me asking since you have a girl what were some of the names on your short list?”

  I smile because names were hard for us, too, but in the end, we chose Aspen and Denver (if we happened to have a boy) to use in honor of a trip we planned between our IVFs. “Well, o
ur first IVF didn’t take, so we picked a new set of names between the first and second try, which was successful. But before we picked Aspen, we had all unisex names we could use for a boy or girl. Ayden, River, Peyton, Preston, Reagan, and Connor. So if you like any of those names, have at it. It’s not like I’ll have anymore.”

  Grabbing my hands, she says, “No, you may change your mind.”

  Shaking my head adamantly, I say, “NO. I almost died in childbirth, and they had to perform an emergency hysterectomy. Believe me, my baby making days are over.”

  I see I have embarrassed her, and before I can tell her it is okay, she slaps her hand over her mouth. “Shit, Emma, I’m sorry.”

  “No, sweetie, it’s all right.”

  Looking down at her feet, which I’m surprised she can do, she only says, “Man, if I could get my feet actually in my mouth, I guess that is what I would be having for dinner.”

  Jolie does make me laugh at her witty little comment. “It’s okay. I’ll feed you something better than feet for dinner.”

  “And what is that?” she asks.

  “Ah, any pregnant woman’s dream.” She waits for my dramatic delivery. “Ice cream!”

  “Old movies and ice cream sound like a wonderful night to me. What are we waiting for?” Good question, but before I can say anything, the pregnant woman with her mind on ice cream is out the door, heading to the kitchen. Ah, I recall those days. Remembering I have one thing to do before I call Ty, I say, “Jolie, give me a second.”

  I want to talk to my husband on my own and not be interrupted, but for that to occur, I know I must call my dad first. I am doing it because I feel obligated. Before Ty, he was the number one man in my life and my best friend. Even though I love my mom immensely, it never compared to the bond I have with my dad. Picking up the phone on the first ring, I am glad to hear his voice. He is not judgmental or rude. He wants to hear about everything from my treatment to the retreat. His questions give me hope that we can recover from this.