“You should be ashamed!”
I almost falter at this last exclamation. I’ve heard it before, but it packs a harder punch than the others. It rouses parts of me that ache to scream in reply, verbally sparring until I lose my voice.
“A child needs love! A child needs love!” more than a few people chant. These aren’t paparazzi but rather haters that like to picket us.
I grit my teeth. A few days ago outside Hale Co., I already screamed once: who are you to determine whether or not I love my daughter? You don’t know me! I was called “vicious, bitchy, and belligerent” for simply defending myself. I’ve yelled that I love Jane until I’m blue in the face, but no one wants my words.
It’s the most frustrating, enraging battle I’ve ever been a part of. My natural instinct will always be to speak louder if they tell me to shut up.
Bodies pack against me. I press Jane harder to my chest, and I can feel her heart pitter-patter in quick succession.
I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t.
And then a strong, painful force snags a chunk of my hair by my temple. I can’t tell what I’m caught on: jewelry or camera equipment or a jacket’s zipper…something that I loathe right now.
I take a step forward, and I’m not coming loose. It yanks me backwards, and I stagger in my heels.
Immediately, I let go of Connor’s hand, afraid that if I fall while clutching him, he’ll topple backwards and crush Jane. “Give me space!” I scream at everyone around me.
“Rose!” Connor calls. Two people already wedge between us, and we’re pulled apart. “ROSE!” He fights to reach me while I struggle to free my hair with one hand. I can’t get it loose, and I’m close to being swept back and pulled onto the cement.
I make a split-second decision.
I can’t fall, not with Jane in my arms, not in the throngs of people with heavy cameras, so I inhale strongly, both arms wrapped around my baby, and I charge forward with an aggressive jerk. The pain sears my scalp and wells my eyes.
But I’m free.
Connor reaches me, his commanding arm swiftly hooking around my waist. He leads me faster to the building. I don’t look back to see the chunk of hair that I left behind. I just remember what could’ve happened, a pile-up of people, smothering Jane.
It didn’t happen.
I still shake like it did. Then quiet hits me, and I realize that I’m inside the hallway of the office building, the cameramen shut outside.
“Rose,” Connor forces my name, slapping my cheek lightly until I focus on him. “You’re in shock…” He clutches the back of my head, protectively and in control, making the chaos feel manageable—like it won’t overthrow us, even if it almost did.
“No…” I say even though I know I am. “…how is she?” I check on Jane beneath her blanket, and she’s no longer crying, her face pressed to my chest in contentment. She studies the shape of an orange tabby cat printed on her blanket.
“Where were you?!” Connor shouts at Vic without letting go of me. “You were supposed to be right behind her.”
“I got stuck in the crowds.”
Connor’s jaw muscle noticeably contracts. “Before we leave, you need to have a path cleared for us, and I’m calling more security to help you since you can’t manage on your own.”
He nods and says a few apologies to both of us.
At this, I wake up. Everyone is safe. That’s what matters.
“Let’s go, Connor,” I tell him, and his hand falls to my shoulder, partially guiding me into the pediatrician’s office. My steps still feel a little dazed, but as soon as we enter the empty waiting room, I break apart from him and sit on a chair by a stack of magazines, crossing my ankles.
I feel safer now that we’re here. Connor goes to sign Jane in at the receptionist’s desk.
My temple throbs and scalds. A gust of cold air blows through the vent and stings my wound. I ignore the pain and set Jane on my thighs, tucking the blanket around her. She immediately tugs at my necklace…and then, of course, my hair.
I wince. “No, don’t touch Mommy’s hair.” I peel her fingers from the strands and procure her stuffed lion out of my purse. My brain is somewhat fogged, barely believing that my fragile, delicate child went through that hell. I can’t and won’t lock her in a tower and remove her from society, just because no one can behave properly.
There has to be boundaries…because this is too much for any kid to live through.
“Lion…” she says clearly, the rest of her words unintelligible and accompanied by spittle. I wipe her mouth with the corner of the blanket.
My eyes burn. “I hope you never question how much I love you, Jane.”
She blinks at me and then smiles, replying with a variety of noises that I accept as I will always love you, Mommy. Even if that’s not the case—I don’t really care. It’s what I believe it is. And in this moment, I believe she will never doubt my love.
When I look up, I notice the receptionist passing an item to Connor, and his lips form a thank you before returning to me.
“Is the doctor ready?” I ask. We’re late, but not by much.
“They said five minutes and the nurse will weigh her.” He sits beside me, a foreign look in his eyes. “Turn your head to me, darling.”
“What are you feeling?” I wonder, just as I rotate to face him.
He gently brushes my hair back and reaches into my purse for a band, tying my hair off into a low pony. “Concern,” he says.
It must be on another level of existence then, so abundant that it darkens his blue eyes. “I did what I had to,” I tell him. I hone in on a line of crooked chairs by the wall behind Connor, a television mounted in the corner. Out of eight chairs, three are too far forward, two tilted too far to the left—it’s irritating. Can no one fix those chairs?
“Rose, look at me,” Connor says.
“This waiting room is a mess.” I turn my head to find a kiddie chair overturned and on its side. I itch to set it upright, and the longer it stays in disorder, the more my ribs bind my lungs.
Connor pinches my chin, forcing my gaze back to his, and the severity in his features takes my breath. “Concentrate on me, please,” he forces the word. “You’re in complete control with me. You’re in the neatest room you’ve ever been in with the smartest man you’ve ever seen, and there is nothing we can’t do. Repeat it.”
I snort and let out a deeper breath at the same time. “You would want me to repeat that in its entirety, just to stroke your ego.” I hang onto the first line though. You’re in complete control with me.
I exhale another short breath. When my eyes flit up to his, I expect him to smile, to banter back, but he’s not doing either.
I notice the white gauze in his hand, the mysterious item that the receptionist gave him. He cups one side of my face, holding me still.
You’re in complete control with me.
“Can you scoot closer?” I actually ask. I ease more when I can sense his stoic, unbending presence, coming into contact with mine. He moves as far as the armrests of the chairs will allow, his other hand on my neck for a second or two while I clutch Jane.
I inhale the calmness of Connor, the quietness of the room, and I don’t look around this time. I just focus on him.
“I’m going to apply pressure to your temple,” he says softly. “Just keep taking deep breaths.” With this, he presses the gauze to the raw skin, and I inhale sharply.