March 23, 1993
"Alice, dear, we have to take him now." Sister Woodhouse stood next to the small hospital bed, peering over at the young mother who was about to be childless.
"Promise me, he's going to be safe." Alice choked out without looking up at the nun. Her eyes were glued to the tiny face that laid against her chest, resting peacefully, blissfully unaware that he was going to be ripped from her arms within the next minute.
"All the children are safe with us, you know this." Sister Woodhouse reached her hands out for the boy, but Alice shifted in the bed, holding him out of her reach.
"Promise me that he'll grow up happy, that he's actually better off because of this." Alice said viciously through clenched teeth, a sharp contrast to her index finger which was lightly stroking between her son's eyes and down his nose.
"That's none of your concern now, girl. He'll be better off no matter what as long as he doesn't grow up with an unwed southside serpent as a mother." Sister Woodhouse spat back, reaching over the bed to take the infant from Alice's arms. The combination of Alice's weakness after 17 hours of labor and the distraction of the nun's words, allowed Sister Woodhouse to get her hands on the baby.
"I love you, even if this makes it seem like I don't. I love you so much." Alice whispered through sobs against his forehead before releasing him to Sister Woodhouse.
Her face twisted in pain, not from the dull ache coming from between her legs, but from the knife that seemed to have lodged itself inside her heart. She laid back against the pillows and turned away from the door, uncaring of anything that wasn't the baby she'd just brought into the world.
Alice told herself over and over that she'd made the right decision, one that would give her son a better life, but each time it became more difficult to believe it.
She'd been preparing for this day for four months, and still, nothing could've prepared her for what she felt when Sister Woodhouse walked out that door with her baby.
It was as though her heart no longer resided in her chest, but rather, it was being carried away from her. She was sure that she'd live the rest of her life, feeling like her heart didn't longer to her anymore.
It belonged to a little boy with her eyes and his father's nose, and he would live too many years of his life, not even knowing he'd held it in his hands all along.
*
March 23, 1994
"Alice, you're going to be late for class." Hal harshly said for the third time as he tied his shoes.
And for the third time, Alice said nothing. She kept her back to him and pulled the comforter tighter around her shoulders.
"Suit yourself, but don't come asking me for notes later." He huffed as he slung his bookbag over his shoulder and slammed the door behind him.
With him finally gone, she let the tears she'd been holding back all morning spring from her eyes. She stared at the calendar on Hal's desk, riddled with test dates and college interview times, wondering if he even knew what today was.
Alice knew perfectly well that this day need not mean anything to Hal, but he certainly didn't. Where he was concerned, today was his son's birthday. A year ago, she handed 'their' child over to a nun, and that had been the end of that. He picked her up three hours later, and drove her back to Riverdale, not even asking before going straight to his house. The decision had been made for her, and maybe for the first time, she'd been okay with that. If Northside Hal Cooper still wanted anything to do with her, who was she to question it?
