The Way We Feel

Chapter 30

"I'm sorry, too," I said, knowing it wouldn't be enough, but afraid of explaining any further.

Vanessa smiled—a closed-mouth smile—and her shoulders rose up around her ears. "Can we just... go back to talking to each other for the next week and a half?"

I had to laugh. "Sure."

She blew out a breath. "Great. Okay. Well... I'll let you go now. Sorry for keeping you from getting home."

"S'alright," I said, my heart heavy again thinking of home. "I'll, uh... I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."

I stayed put for a second, watching Vanessa walk back inside the building—the swing of her long blonde ponytail. She didn't glance back, for which I was grateful, because as I watched her go, I almost wished she wouldn't leave. Almost wished she might want to talk longer, only so that I wouldn't have to go home.

I didn't know what to feel anymore. What to think. These last few days had been nothing but a confusing, horrible, emotional mess, and I couldn't really distinguish one emotion from another—one thought from another anymore. 

I started moving towards my car again, carrying my bag and the weight of my guilt on my shoulders. Vanessa wasn't the only one to apologize to me in the last few days. Which was ironic considering I felt like I was the only one who owed anyone else an apology.

The other night, right after I'd found Mads crying on the kitchen floor in the midst of broken glass while pots bubbled over on the stove and Lila screamed her head off, I'd set about turning the burners off and plucking Lila from her swing, shushing her and bouncing her as patiently as I could while Madelyn's tears subsided. Then, still holding a crying Lila, I waited, barely breathing, for Mads to calm down enough to explain.

"I'm sorry," she kept saying, hiccuping as her breathing started to even out.

I'd only shushed her, stood between her legs where she sat on the counter with Lila in one arm, and brushed back her hair from her sweaty temple with the other, waiting for her to feel okay enough to tell me more.

And it was the hardest thing I'd ever done—the waiting in those moments. Because I was scared to death. Scared because I knew this was a breaking point for her and for us, even though there was relief in knowing things would no longer be the same.

But that was just it. The thing that really frightened me was that I knew things were about to change, and I still didn't have a clue whether they'd change for the better or for the worse.

And knowing what I did—what I'd done mere hours before finding Madelyn alone and broken on the floor—only terrified me more. Because I still didn't have a clue why it happened or what I was going to do about it. All I knew was that there was no way I could tell Mads right then and there. I couldn't bear to break her even more.

She stared at Lila as the baby wailed, something in her eyes shifting when Lila reached for her. It was love—love and some kind of pain. A pain I couldn't understand, but was desperate to.

I almost held Lila back, sure that Mads would want me to considering the fact that she was still crying herself. But she reached for Lila, too, her tears rebounding as I handed the baby over, as mother and daughter clung to each other, shedding fresh tears as they sought the comfort they needed from one another.

"I'm sorry," Mads kept whispering, no longer to me, but to our daughter.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I tried to understand and couldn't. As I felt the weight of what I'd done earlier settle onto my conscience again.