Into the light, p.28
Into the Light, page 28
“I told you, he wants a clean break.”
I tried to convince myself him pulling away was in my head. That he wasn’t interested in his co-worker, Hope or resentful of the fact that I was tying him down right when he had a taste of freedom. The baby bound us together. He told me we were his whole world—me and the baby. But now she’s gone and it’s all my fault. I lost our baby. There’s nothing binding us together anymore. Up until this moment, I felt no pain. Now, the flood gates opened. If my wounds are superficial, then why does it feel as though someone just took a spear and rammed it right through my heart? The pain engulfs me, winding throughout my body, twisting around my heart like a vice until my chest constricts. There’s a loud series of beeps and a nurse rushes in.
“Jeremy McAllister!” I shout. “Is he here?”
“Let’s get you under control and then I’ll go check.”
Once she’s satisfied I’m fine she tells me she’ll be back with an update. The wait is agonizing. I scroll through my texts, and my anxiety intensifies when I realize there aren’t any new messages from Jeremy. A lump forms in my throat and my eyes burn with unshed tears. The nurse comes back a few minutes later and approaches my bedside. My lungs scream from the breath I’m holding.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no one here by that name. And I didn’t see his name in the visitor’s log either.”
The dam breaks and tears spill unchecked down my cheeks. He hasn’t come to see me. Had he visited, she would remember him because he would’ve stayed by my side. At the realization that Jeremy actually left me, my heart shatters into a million pieces. The room shifts and the walls move closer, caving in. Everything is too close, pressing in on me and my breath comes in short gasps. The nurse hangs a bag of clear liquid above my bed and injects some into my IV. Then she punches some numbers into the monitor and the beeping subsides. My mother continues as though nothing’s wrong.
“You’ll go to Juilliard in the fall. Your life will go on.”
I want to tell her it’s already over. Everything I had worth living for is gone.
The mind is a mysterious thing. I hear her talking but I drift away, into some recess deep within myself. I plant my hopes and dreams there. And when I emerge, the girl I was before ceases to exist.
Chapter 69
Jeremy – Life in Pieces
It’s been a grueling day. The meeting with Richard has been weighing on my mind. I thought facing off with him would give me a sense of victory. But it’s left me feeling on edge. It didn’t give me the sense of closure I thought it would. I’m no more past this than I was seven years ago. My life feels as if I’m still in a state of limbo: haunted by my past and unable to see a future because there’s no escaping it. I don’t know which path to take from here. I’ve tried pushing the negative thoughts aside. But ignoring my problems clearly isn’t working because I’m a walking ball of tension. I grab the back of my shoulder and attempt to knead away some of the knots. But as soon as I unlock the door, the thing I need most is right there waiting for me with that toothless grin of hers, like always.
“Daddy!”
“Hi, sweet girl. How was school today?”
“Good. Guess what? Grandma got me homemade pasta.”
“Yum. I hope she got me some too.”
“She also got me a book.”
“That was nice of her. Grandma was feeling extra generous today.”
My mom watches Sophie on Wednesday nights and some weekends. She felt it was important I have a dedicated night out to myself. But it’s hard to date as a single dad. That’s why I’ve always had a string of women. And my membership at The Vault. I would never bring a woman back to my place unless things were really serious. I’ve never allowed things to get that far. My mom adores Sophie and is always showering her with small treats. I know grandparents like to spoil their grandchildren, but in some ways, I think she’s trying to compensate for the fact that Sophie grew up without a mother. A sense of bitterness creeps in, but I push it down. I know it’s not healthy bottling all this anger. I’ve taken much of it out on Shay, but it hasn’t helped. Years of pent-up frustration have spilled out upon her re-entry into my life. Things didn’t have to be this way. She had a choice. She made hers and I was left to pick up the pieces.
Some days I have a hard time reconciling the version of Shay she presents and the one I know her to be. She comes off as compassionate, trusting and kind. There’s a fragility about her that didn’t used to be there. My instinct is to protect her, but she didn’t protect the one thing that mattered most. Our daughter. It was the ultimate betrayal. And it shattered me. They say time heals all wounds, but her leaving is not something I can ever get past. If anything, my resolve has only hardened. There can be no future for us. I now know it’s only a front she projects and something dark and sinister lurks beneath. I used to think she was like the sun—all lightness and purity. Now I see her as an eclipse—you catch a passing shadow and see things differently in the dark.
Single parenting is hard, but I never would have abandoned my child. No matter how grim the outlook. That’s when she needed us most. I’m so grateful for my mom’s help. While I have a nanny, Giuliana, I couldn’t do it without her. I look over at my daughter with her big round cornflower blue eyes, and I can’t help but be reminded of Shay. Sophie is a reminder of her love—and her betrayal—every single day. I couldn’t escape Shay if I tried. And believe me, I have.
“Sophie, honey. Why don’t you go read in your room?” my mom says.
After Sophie bounds out of the room my mom takes a seat at the kitchen table. She rubs her eyes and sighs.
“Everything OK?” I’ve been so preoccupied with Sophie and Shay I haven’t paid much attention to my mom recently. I know she’s getter older, but she’s young at heart so I take for granted that she may be slowing down. My eyes rake over her face, searching for something, a small clue. Her health isn’t something I often think about. She’s invincible as far as I’m concerned.
“Mom, is something bothering you?”
“I ran into Shay today.”
That should make me feel relieved considering where my mind was going, but it doesn’t. “Oh.” I move to the dishwasher, needing a distraction from the conversation we’re about to have. I start unloading the silverware.
“You didn’t tell me she’s a lawyer.”
“You didn’t ask.”
She gives me a look.
“Anyway, she said the strangest thing.”
“What?”
“We were talking about the accident–”
“Why did you bring up the accident?”
“I didn’t. Come to think of it, we were talking about her choosing not to dance. I was shocked to learn she didn’t go to Juilliard. When she was explaining her reasoning, she used the words, ‘after I lost the baby.’”
I pause, a plate in my hand.
“What do you mean?”
“Those were her words. ‘After I lost the baby.’”
“She probably meant custody.”
My mom shakes her heard. “I don’t think so. She was talking about the baby in the past tense. Wondering what she would’ve looked like, what milestones she would’ve reached.” She pauses and I let this sink in. “I don’t think she knows Sophie survived.”
Goosebumps break out across my skin. It doesn’t make any sense. Snippets of our conversations flash through my mind but I can’t hold onto anything. “Why would you think that?”
A heavy silence descends in my small kitchen. She doesn’t need to voice the words aloud, but they penetrate my hazy brain. The answer is clear: Eleanor Woodward.
“You really don’t think.”
“Honey, I wouldn’t put it past her. She’d do anything to keep you and Shay apart. And we both know how she felt about the pregnancy.”
The plate I’m holding slips through my fingers. I glance down at the broken fragments before me that seem fitting. How did I never see it before? Shay’s sadness that clings to her. Her career choice to be an advocate for children. The scars on her wrists. Her undying devotion to those she loves. Deep down I’ve always struggled with how she could walk away from her own child. Because the Shay I knew never could. If it’s true then I’ve failed her. I’ve failed both of us.
“You need to talk to Shay,” my mom says as she helps me pick up the broken pieces.
“If it’s true, it would kill her.”
“Part of her died a long time ago. Take it from a mother.”
Knowing Eleanor kept her apart from her own daughter, leading her to believe she didn’t survive is unspeakable. Eleanor Woodward is a lot of things. Cold. Demanding. Scrupulous. Controlling. Critical. Self-absorbed. But I need to talk to Shay before I’m convinced she’s a liar. Because if what my mom believes is true, then that woman is truly the devil incarnate. As much as I want to believe it’s true because it would restore every trait I’ve always believed about Shay, it would also shatter her. But when I think about what she’s been through—what I’ve put her through—I realize her life is already in pieces.
Chapter 70
Then, Jeremy
The weatherman predicted a big storm tonight. This is one of those times I wish he was wrong. Because right now I’m in the middle of it. I close my eyes and try to block out the memory. The shattered windshield that resembled a spider’s web, flying debris, the smell of gasoline and burnt rubber. And Shay, sitting in the driver’s seat, crushed behind the airbag. Someone banging on the window. The words that couldn’t come. I was incapable of making a sound. Not because I was hurt, but because fear took hold of my body and swallowed any semblance of speech. All I could think about was Shay. She is my entire life.
The ride in the ambulance was a blur. All I remember is that they wouldn’t let us ride together. When I could finally form words I could only say one. “Shay.”
“They’re working on her, son. She sustained some injuries but her condition is stable, just like yours.”
If her condition is anything like mine then how can she be stable? She’d be going out of her mind with worry. I peppered the nurses with questions as soon as they wheeled me in. They assured me they’d give me an update as soon as they knew anything. They said I needed to stay calm. I told them I’d be calm once they gave me that update. Then the doctor came in and did his exam. Nothing but some cuts, bruises, and two broken ribs. He said I should consider myself lucky. But how can I be lucky when I don’t know what’s happening with Shay? What if she hurt her leg and can’t dance? What if the baby is hurt?
The curtain parts and my mom races into the room. She takes one look at me and bursts into tears. She pulls me close and says she doesn’t know what she’d do if something happened to me.
“I’m OK, Mom. I’m just really worried about Shay.”
Once she’s spoken with the Doctor and is convinced I’m stable she goes in search of answers. But she comes up empty-handed. They won’t give her details because she’s not family.
“But we are family,” I argue. “You’re more of a mother to her than her own.”
“I know it’s not fair. But in the eyes of the law, they’re not the same.”
After hours of observation, I’m finally released. I won’t leave the hospital until I have news of Shay’s condition. My mom says she’ll stay with me. I can’t stop pacing. The seats in the waiting room are hard and plastic. You’d think a hospital would have more comfortable chairs. Not that I could sit still if I tried. I’m filled with a ball of nervous energy along with the cocktail of meds they have me on. My mom says she’s going to get us coffee. I think she’s tired of me wearing a hole in the floors. Suddenly I see a familiar figure approaching wearing tailored slacks and a blouse that’s open at the neck revealing a strand of pearls: Eleanor. Her heels echo throughout the otherwise empty hall. Why does she look so put together? My first thought is perhaps that’s a good sign. But she’s always been one to keep up appearances. I ambush her.
“How is she? How’s the baby?”
“Let’s go somewhere more private, shall we?”
I want to scream at her, just tell me! But I say nothing as I follow her to a room off the waiting area. This is probably the room where bad news is delivered, I decide. This is the room where doctors tell families their loved ones didn’t make it. I grip the back of the chair and breathe through my nose.
“The baby is very premature. Her lungs aren’t fully developed. She’s in the NICU and will be there for quite some time.”
“What about Shay?”
“She’ll be fine.”
“Thank God. When can I see her?”
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean she doesn’t want to see you. We had a long talk. This accident made her realize her entire future is at stake. Juilliard and everything she’s worked for. You can’t provide for her the way she’s grown accustomed to. She’s been blinded by love, but when I laid out the reality of the situation, she saw things differently. Do you know the cost of New York real estate? How would you support yourselves if you’re both in school and maybe one of you is working part-time? How could she raise a baby while going to classes and keep up with her grades? Not to mention the competition. She’d need to put in extra hours to stay ahead. What about her dreams of dancing? It all pointed toward one conclusion.”
“And what’s that?”
“She’s granting you full custody of the baby.”
My heart stills. “I don’t believe you.”
She hands me a set of paperwork: a legal contract. I quickly flip through it and Shay’s signature is at the bottom. I stare at the telltale “S” until the edges grow fuzzy. She is relinquishing her parental rights. There is a vice-like grip on my insides and bile rises up in my throat. I run to the trashcan in the corner of the room. I release the contents of my stomach, which are mainly liquid, until there’s nothing left. I’m just an empty shell. I turn around and Eleanor is still sitting at the table. I want to strangle her with the pearls around her neck.
“We’ll help with the expenses, naturally,” she says as she pulls out her checkbook. “But Shay doesn’t want to be contacted by you. She needs a clean break. You’ll only hold her back. Do you want to be the one to come between her and her dreams?”
I thought the baby and I were Shay’s dream. Then I remember how excited she was about auditioning in the fall. How she pushed away conversations about who would take care of the baby while she was dancing. How she wouldn’t miss one practice to do something for me. I didn’t see it because I didn’t want to: dance is her priority. It will always come first, even before family. I chose only to see the version of her that I wanted. And now we are all paying the price.
“If you love her, you’ll let her go.”
I already have. The moment I learned she abandoned us, all the love for her I felt for her transformed into something dark and deep. I’ve never felt such loathing toward another human being. The Shay I know would never do something like this. But then I remember a conversation we once had. “I think these kinds of situations are a test of someone’s true character. You may never think you’d do something, but when you’re in the situation it’s different than dealing with a what if scenario.” We were talking about my father. And the irony is she turned out to be just like him.
Eleanor rips off the check and hands it to me. I want to tear it up into tiny pieces and throw it in her face. But when I see the amount, I know I’ll need it. Not for me, but for my daughter. I hate myself for taking it, this blood money.
“I always told her she was too good for you. Can you imagine a Woodward living in a one-bedroom apartment, living from paycheck to paycheck? It’s absurd. You may have good looks, but you will never be good enough for my daughter.”
And with that, she leaves the room.
Fury courses through me and I flee in search of an exit. I can’t believe Shay would do this to me. To us. Her betrayal shatters me. I slump against the wall and burrow my head against my knees. I want to ram my fist into the wall, smash a chair through the window, to do something to let out the rage that’s threatening to explode. I want to rip that smug smile off Eleanor Woodward’s plastered face. But then I think of my daughter, alone in the NICU. My daughter. She needs me. I need to start making decisions that revolve around her best interest, not mine. I dust off my hands and stand up. I stop by the nurse’s station and ask for directions. “Floor three. When you exit the elevator turn left at the first hallway.” I stop in the bathroom and splash cold water on my face. I place my hands on either side of the sink and just breathe. Once I’ve regained my composure, I follow her directions and stop once I reach the glass window. There’s a tiny placard that says, “Baby McAllister.” As I stare at my daughter, connected to a myriad of tubes and so tiny and helpless, I vow I will be the best father I can. I vow to give her the best life has to offer. And I vow to forget the day I ever met her mother.
I will never forgive her for this.
Ever.
Shay taught me a lot of things over the course of our relationship. It’s her parting lesson that I’ll always remember: some acts are unforgivable.
Chapter 71
Shay – The Unthinkable
There’s a knock at my door. I wish whoever it is would go away. I turn the volume up but the knocking only grows more incessant. With a sigh, I turn off the TV and peek out the blinds. It’s Jeremy.
“Shay. Let me in,” he calls. I’d ignore him but I don’t think my neighbors would appreciate that plan.
I step outside, barring him access from my apartment. “What do you want?”
“I need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
