Part 80

140 9 12
                                    

11 December 1981

6:00am Friday

-----


You felt like you wouldn't sleep, but upon shutting your eyes, you fell under. You slept for a good long while, uninterrupted for the first time in ages. You had been exhausted, and numb.

It was one of those dreamless nights where you didn't remember at first who or what you were.

Then you did, and you felt a hollowness, alone in the large bed. No weight beside you, no warmth.

You sat up, drawing your knees against yourself.

You had upset Paul, and could see why he would be upset. You were sleep deprived, overwhelmed, still affected by hormones, it all coming to the surface when prodded.

Of course he'd be upset. You didn't even know why you said what you did, telling him you regretted having Rosemary, regretted all of it.

He'd left, and you had let him, not even putting up a fight. You could've called for him, or ran after him, but you didn't.

He took Rosemary. You didn't blame him after what you'd said. Of course, you would never do harm to her, no matter what you'd said. You wouldn't dream of it, you couldn't.

It was eerily quiet with her gone. You'd been taking care of her since she was born, always close by. Longer, if you considered she was inside you. The only exception was in the hospital when she was taken away for tests.

Even if you were apprehensive, you knew you needed to take care of her, so you took the responsibility. Every second of the day, even as you showered, or cooked, she was never further than a few feet away. You were paranoid that she'd stop breathing, as fragile as she was.

If she needed to feed, or a change, you were there. Sometimes she just needed contact, to be close to someone. You held her, or carried her as you went about your tasks.

As time passed, sat up in bed, the duvet around you, you began to get a sense of paranoia, not having her with you, not knowing where she was. You felt emptiness in your chest. It felt all wrong.

It was wrong not having her here, a deeply uneasy feeling.

She was really a good baby. She squawked and cried when she needed something. She would wake up at night, but it was all understandable needs. Most of the time, she just slept, or blinked open her dark brown eyes, attempting to see what was around her, so new to the world.

She didn't coo much, but she'd yawn, and sneeze, or snort.

She was more expressive than you thought she'd be. She didn't smile yet, but sometimes she would furrow her eyebrows, opening her eyes, the same annoyed expression Paul had. When she was content she had a peaceful facial expression. Sometimes her eyes would focus, and you wondered if she could perceive anything.

Even if your worry was reflexive and couldn't be helped, your rational mind knew she was safe with Paul. No harm would come to her, even if she was out of your sight.

It was some irrational instinct giving you that unease. It built too, as time passed.

Hell... maybe you deserved it. You couldn't even be a proper mother to her. As much as you adored her, it didn't manifest properly within you. You weren't loving her properly, like Paul seemed able to. He didn't need to think about it, he just did. From the start, he did, when she was nothing to you but an unwanted sickness and speck in your gut.

You didn't blame him for leaving with Rosemary. Even out of your sight, she would be safe with Paul. Maybe he would even take better care of her than you. She wouldn't really need you, if she had him.

Temporary SecretaryWhere stories live. Discover now