“It’s not even eleven,” I said, following her back up the stairs and into the house.
I stared around in disgust at the mess. Clothes and shoes were scattered across the floor, boxes were piled in every corner, and music was blaring from somewhere within the house. I sped up, following Gracie through the house until she came to a stop in the marble black-and-white kitchen. She picked up the jug of what looked like margaritas and began pouring drinks for us.
“Gracie, what’s going on with you?” I asked, jiggling Bonny on my hip while she continued to cling to my hair.
Gracie looked over at me and I frowned, seeing the redness to her eyes and the pink flush to one side of her face. “Nothing is wrong, I just wanted to have some fun with my best friend!” she bit out, but I didn’t miss the way her chin trembled as she spoke.
“Has Richard done something?” I asked carefully, not wanting to send her into any more of a tailspin than she already was, especially while Bonny-May was so close. I had no doubt that the poor girl had seen more than her fair share of arguments between her mom and dad, but seeing her mom in that state couldn’t be good for any kid.
Gracie took a long swig of her drink and laughed. “Done something? He’s always doing something, or someone, right? Isn’t that the joke of it all?”
I hadn’t seen it until then, or maybe I hadn’t paid any attention, but Gracie leaned over and picked up a rolled up twenty before snorting what I assumed was coke up her nose.
I stared, slack-jawed, at her as she openly took drugs in front of her little girl.
Bonny-May started to cry in my arms and I hushed her and turned and left the room. She looked tired, and her diaper was soaking right through to her clothes. I carefully picked my way up the marble staircase and into Bonny’s room. Thankfully, Gracie’s reign of destruction hadn’t hit that room yet and I lay Bonny on top of the changing table and unclipped her sleepsuit before pulling it off her.
She wriggled on the table and cried, her arms reaching for me, and I sang to her while I stripped her out of the wet sleepsuit and diaper before giving her a quick washdown with some baby wipes and redressing her. She’d stopped crying once I had taken the dirty diaper off, and I cuddled her into me as I looked around the room for a bottle I could feed her or her pacifier.
“I’m still breastfeeding her,” Gracie said sadly from the doorway.
Both Bonny and I looked up. “Not today you’re not,” I replied as calmly as I could. I was angry with her—furious, even—and I wanted to grab her and shake some sense into her. “You know, she didn’t ask to be born. This was yours and Richard’s choice. The least you could both do is try to lessen the shit that she sees!”
Hurt flashed across Gracie’s face, but she nodded in agreement. “I guess I deserved that.”
Bonny gargled something and reached for Gracie, but I held her close to my chest. “Yes you did.”
Gracie shuffled into the room and headed to the closet before pulling the doors open. “There’s some formula in here. Richard bought it.”
I watched her, dumbfounded, as she pulled all the equipment out of the wardrobe and began making up a bottle for the baby. She avoided all eye contact until the bottle was done and then she handed it to me.
“Can you do it, please?” Gracie asked quietly. “She always refuses the bottle when I try.”
I took it from her. “Sure.”
I held Bonny in my arms and she opened immediately for the bottle, her little fist tugging on my hair as she looked over at her mom.
We all sat in silence while she drank the milk, her eyes growing heavier the more she drank. Milk dripped from the corner of her mouth and I placed her over my shoulder while I rubbed her back, her soft snores already singing in my ear.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I asked quietly, removing as much annoyance as I could from my tone. “Because as much as I love you—and you know I do—this can’t go on. She needs her mom, Gracie.”
Gracie sat down on the floor, her bathrobe still open, and put her head in her hands as she started to cry. Bonny gave a small burp and I carried her quickly over to her cot and placed her in it before quickly going to my friend and holding her.
I had no idea what was going on with her, or if I could even help, but I wasn’t leaving her until I knew Gracie and Bonny were going to be okay.
“I’m sorry,” Gracie sobbed into my T-shirt. “I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know who I am, and I swear to God if I hadn’t given birth to her I would swear she’s not my child.” She cried harder and I stared at the cot where Bonny was, sadness and confusion tugging at me.
When her crying had subsided, Gracie pulled away and grabbed a baby wipe so she could wipe her face and blow her nose, and then she looked at me with eyes full of desperation.
“I think she hates me, Quinn. And I know that sounds ridiculous, but I swear it’s true. All she ever does is cry and sleep and feed! It’s like she’s torturing me or something. I walk her room for hours every night, trying to rock her to sleep, but as soon as I put her down she just cries all over again!”
Fat tears rolled down her cheeks, and I pulled her into another tight hug as I tried desperately to swallow down my worry for my friend and goddaughter.
“She doesn’t hate you, Gracie. She loves you! You’re her mom and she just wants to be with you, that’s all.” I kissed her hair. “Where’s Richard? Does he know what’s going on?”
Gracie started to laugh. “Richard left, Quinn.”
I pulled out of the hug. “He left?”
