Parenting a child with Ashton Knight is tougher than hiding an elephant inside the fridge. It's just a matter of time before Charlotte Garnett breaks her promise of keeping a platonic relationship with the father of her child. She's already too far...
I ask Mom to take care of Chloe for the weekend because I don't want my daughter to see me like this. Of course, I don't tell the real reason to my know-it-all mother. Having a severe cold seems to make sense since I still have my nasal voice from hours of crying.
"Are you sure I don't need to come? Do you have enough food? I'll send you some tomorrow morning."
"No, Mom. I have everything, don't worry. I just need to sleep it off and I'll be fine again in a day or two," I assure her. "These first weeks in my new role are really wearing me off."
"Okay," Mom replies with reluctance in her voice. "Let me know if it gets worse. I can always make your favorite soup to help you eat."
"Thanks, Mom," I murmur, holding back the tears that are about to burst again. "Gotta go, now. And call me on the home line if there's something urgent, I need to get away from my phone and people from work during my rest."
Deciding that I don't want to deal with anyone else for now, especially Ashton, I switch off my phone once I hang up. I stay in my bed for the rest of the evening, lying in the dark and staring blankly at the wall. The lights from the passing cars down the street illuminate my bare window and dance on my bedroom wall; the only reminder that the world is still spinning, that life still goes on out there.
My chest tightens up again when Ashton's face invades my mind, followed by the familiar pricking sensation in the corners of my eyes. I cry again until I fall asleep.
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I wake up in a jolt with severe dryness in my throat. For a second, I lose track of time because my bedroom feels brighter than usual. When I turn my heavy head in the direction of the light, I notice my blind cover is still up, allowing the beaming street posts into my room. It's dead quiet now, no more cars passing or other typical noises coming from the street. It must be sometime past midnight.
The scenes from the past several hours rush back to my mind, followed by the same intense jabs in my chest. Why did I wake up? Why can't I just keep sleeping until the pain is over?
With the remaining strength in me, I force myself to crawl out of bed, change into my pajamas, and trudge down to my kitchen. It's two in the morning and I haven't eaten anything since I got home, but the food is the last thing I need at the moment.
After chugging down a glass of cold water, I lie down on my couch and turn on the TV, hoping it will help stop my jumbled mind from straying too far. But once I see a pregnant woman swaying her hips on the screen, I burst into tears again.
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