“Chloe… baby...” My mother’s voice shifts to the tone I remember. “I’m so—I’m so sorry.” Her lips tremble, but no tears appear.
I nod and cautiously raise my hand before deciding where it’s safest to rest. I choose her knee that’s covered by a thin hospital sheet.
“I don’t want her to go through what you did. I couldn’t live with myself if—”
Odette interrupts, “Let’s try to keep all expectations manageable and free from guilt.” She raises an eyebrow at Connie, a reminder, it seems.
“I want you to take the baby until I can get clean… I know you’re still so young but—” She looks up towards me, tears in her eyes. “You’reyou.You’re way more responsible than I have ever been.”
I lean back in my chair; my hand moves to my knee instead. “Because I had to be,” I say.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she whispers.
I look to Odette who, despite having no idea what I plan to say, gives me an encouraging nod.
I straighten and rock back and forth until the motion comforts me enough to speak. “I’ll do it. But only if you promise to give up custody completely.” I turn towards Odette. “That’s what Rachel said on the phone.”
Odette purses her lips.
I lick my lips before speaking. “I’ll do it, if I even can. I don’t know if I’ll be allowed… but you won’t get custody again. You can visit with her when you’re sober. You can see her often, when you are… but… she is not going to live with you—ever. Do you understand?” My voice pitches louder with the last question, and I regret it immediately.
Connie wipes a single tear away, but the look on her face is one of accepted defeat instead of hurt.
I jump on the defensive. “They may not let me. I don’t know. I just finished school. I have tons of student loans and started freelancing less than a month ago. I’m living alone right now. I can’t move home.” No need to addmy adoptive parents left the country and we don’t really speak anymore.
Odette speaks up. “But we appreciate your willingness to try.”
I offer an awkward but appreciative smile. I look back towards Connie and study her for a moment, my heart filling with worry. “I really hope things turn around for you.”
She fumbles to gather a tighter hold on Odette’s hand. “Me too,” Connie whispers.
We sit in awkward silence until Odette stands and gracefully turns to me. “Chloe, would you like to go meet your sister?”
I nod, rising to stand next to her. I move away from the hospital bed and around the back of the chair I’d been sitting in. I choose to give a parting gift to Connie. “Good to see you, Mom.”
She reaches for my hand, and I gently touch the back of hers before tensing and moving away. “Goodbye,” I say.
I follow Odette into the hallway. She places a hand on my back after shutting the door. I blankly look off to the white walls with metal panels across the hall as she uses a heavy palm to pat me. “No rush, hon.”
I smile weakly over my shoulder to Odette, who stands behind me. She continues her soothing motions as I catch my breath and unclench my jaw.
Who was that woman?
Sober or not, my mother has always looked like herself—warm, familiar, like me. Now, I’m perhaps the only version of who my mother used to be that’s left in this world. She’s a stranger now, in all ways. A stranger my heart breaks for.
A stranger I still crave the approval of, love from. But I will have to settle for trust. The trust she is giving me to look after my sister.
CHAPTER FOUR
Odette leads me back past the elevators and towards the NICU. Eventually, we arrive at another entryway with a video camera above the door. Whoever is watching must have noticed Odette is wearing a visitor’s pass around her neck since the doors open before she reaches for the phone on the wall. She waves politely at the nurses’ station as we pass, going towards a dimly lit hallway.
I feel out of place here, like I’m trespassing in someone else’s life. I make an effort to not look into the rooms with other families. I’m glad Odette walks with such force, otherwise I may turn and run.
Odette slows, nearing the end of the hall. A man wearing blue scrubs, the same as the nurses at the front desk,sits at a computer in an alcove outside the room.He’s facing a large window, which looks into one of the many private suites.
From where we stop in the hallway, I can look through it to see an incubator with a dual-monitor stand towering above it. Odette clears her throat, and thenurse looks towards us as he switches off the computer he’d been typing on. He stands and reaches out a hand to shake with Odette and then me.
“Hi. I’m Calvin. I’m looking after Baby Walden this afternoon. I’ll be here till seven.” Calvin is probably a few inches taller than me and has olive-toned skin and dark hair and eyes. He reminds me of a classic World War II soldier, short in stature but strong looking with broad muscles in his upper body, a wide stance, and quaffed hair.
