Addicted | ✔

C h a p t e r T w e n t y- N i n e

                                                                    PART TWENTY NINE

                                          ❝I miss you, but I have to act like I'm okay.❞

"Jack?" I called, slamming the door behind me. I shed my coat onto the floor. The apartment was quiet. I opened the door to our bedroom, expecting to find Jack sleeping on our bed, I checked Evie's nursery. Everything was untouched, there were dishes in the sink though. As I began loading them into the dishwasher I sighed. Nobody was here. I took to cleaning the kitchen to pass the time. I sighed, my body felt heavy still. I felt it again, she kicked. This time it was harder. Some part of me wanted Jack. He would be so happy to know she was kicking finally. We had another appointment tomorow. I picked up my phone, setting down the dirty dish rag.

I'm home, where are you? 

I set the phone down. Maybe he'd walk through the door any minute. or maybe, he was just taking space from me. Which was understandable, I would want space from me too. But he was the one who needed to apologize. Not me. 

As hours ticked by, I vacuumed, made cookies and even started on Mac and Cheese. His favorite dinner. I turned the stove off, sighing as I did so. I scooped mac and cheese into a small bowl. I didn't have the stomach for much else. I pulled a sprite from the fridge, smiling as I did so. I could still feel the tears sprawling down my face. I flicked the tv on, settling on a hallmark movie about a wife swap. I curled up under a blanket. There I waited, I watched the sun set low in the sky, I watched the star's appear. I reached across the blanket for a hand, that was not there. I sank back into the couch, feeling overwhelmingly tired.

I heard the front door open softly and shut. I glanced up. Jack was standing in the doorway. His eyes met mine. He looked sad, his eyes were low. I stared at him. He walked over to me, sitting next to me on the couch. Before I could even hear the apology I knew I was about to get I took his hand and placed it on my stomach. 

"She's kicking." I said. I felt her kick but Jack didn't say anything. He just looked at my stomach in awe.

"Holy shit." He whispered, as if speaking louder would induce her to stop. I smiled at him.

"Kaitlyn. Listen.." I put up a hand. "It's okay Jack I promise." 

It wasn't okay. It was far from okay. But I didn't want to hear sorry, I didn't want to hear how bad he felt. I just wanted it to never happen again. But I was afraid it would, with every part of my being I was afraid it would. And it would get worse every time, until I was dead. That's what my heart told me, but my brain refused to believe it. He placed his hands against my face. I smiled.

"It's not okay baby." he said, but he didn't apologize. I just leaned against his shoulder and let him wrap an arm around me. Only this time, I didn't feel warm in his arms. I felt cold, like he was the reason. Like maybe I didn't even love him anymore. It scared me, how fast my trust had dissipated. 

We only had a few more months until I had to have a baby. Our daughter, who I prayed wasn't born with a disease because of my drug use. I sighed, curling more into Jack's body. It scared me, how much my life would change, holding my daughter in the hospital. Looking at her tiny fingers and toes, her wrapping her entire hand around my pinky. I sighed. One of many sigh's. I felt tired, my whole body was tired. It was mental too, like my brain was too tired and out of options. Like my entire soul was exhausted.

Because I was tired, tired of fighting myself, fighting to stay alive, fighting to keep my daughter alive. Fighting my brain that was chemically imbalanced. I was so tired of fighting. That's when I knew, I had to stop. So I did, I stopped fighting. Right there in Jack's arms. I gave up. I let my dreams of being a social worker go, I let my dream of getting rich and raising three kids go. I felt a warm tear glisten in my eyes.

I closed my eyes, sinking into the couch. Because this was it, laying in the arms of the man I loved, holding my stomach because for now, she was safe. Even if I wasn't. I wasn't okay, but she was. She was alive. Shockingly enough, It made me sad, to know that my daughter was safe. Because I couldn't keep myself safe.