I’m Keeping You. Jane Lark
shit. Now she’d kick herself that she hadn’t called earlier. She’d be telling herself she was a bad mom.
Tears flooded her eyes, making the unusual soft mossy green sharpen and sparkle in the electric light. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Because I’d thought about it and decided it was best to let her settle in here and do normal stuff for an afternoon and we hadn’t eaten dinner alone since Saint had been born.
I caught hold of her hands before they could lift and clasp her hair. I hated that pose. She’d been in that pose for all the days she’d been in the hospital, when they’d put her on the shitty meds she was taking now. “Hey. It’s okay not to speak to him for a day. We’ll call first thing in the morning.”
“But why didn’t I think to call earlier?”
“Because you’ve got a ton of stuff going on in your head. You were thinking about facing Declan and coming back to New York.”
“But I should think of Saint first. Why don’t I think of him first?”
“Because you’re on a load of meds…” and your bipolar brain just doesn’t work like that, sweetheart.
Rach had always been scared she’d turn out like her mom, who’d been so crap at motherhood Rach had run away at fifteen, and since Rach had walked into the river she didn’t trust herself at all. She challenged everything she thought, and why she thought it, or more frequently didn’t think it. She was trying to make her brain work like normal. But Rach wasn’t normal, and that was one of the reasons I’d fallen for her.
She hadn’t tried to drown Saint anyway, she’d been thinking of him and trying to teach him to swim. She’d walked into the water with him to swim with him. Fully clothed, yeah. But she’d just lost her hold on reality in a moment of distorted euphoria. That happened with bipolar. It wasn’t because she was a bad mom.
Rach started to cry. I pulled her into a hug and stroked a hand over her hair. “He’s okay.”
“Why didn’t you remind me? You aren’t on meds!” She pushed me away and smacked my shoulder.
“Because he’s with Mom and Dad. He’s fine.”
Her eyes accused me of not loving Saint enough.
She challenged me as much as herself. She challenged everything lately. She’d been bruised inside by her error. But she was really sick and the meds they’d given her to make her better were making her judgments even more distorted. So I was letting her get away with insecurity and accusations against me, but I wouldn’t lie, they cut.
She broke away from me, turned, moved her purse over on to a shelf beside the bed, then collected her stuff from the suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom. Her movements had been hurried and twitchy with anger. When she came back in she was wearing a t-shirt only and she’d wiped off her make-up, ready to get into bed.
I went into the bathroom and got ready too. I washed my face and stared at myself in the mirror. It had been a long year. My life had turned around completely.
When I went back into the bedroom, I stripped off my jeans and my tee, but left my boxers on. I switched off the main light, then got into bed, and switched off the lamp on the nightstand. “Do I get a cuddle?” I said into the darkness.
“Yeah.”
I lifted my arm and she shuffled over and leaned on my shoulder. But I figured it wasn’t a night for sex. I wasn’t getting that vibe from her.
Rachel
Sunlight poured through the transparent curtains. Jason was sitting on the bed, looking at me, and the TV was on. “What?” I breathed from a croaky throat.
“It’s eleven-thirty; you’ve had twelve hours’ sleep.”
He knew what that meant. It meant my mood had dropped. I was morose and tired when my mood was low—but it didn’t have to mean the meds were wearing off, the meds made me sleepy anyway.
“Do you want to call Saint, then go for a run?” He also knew that running was a good trigger for helping me lift my mood.
I sat up. “I’d like to call Mom and speak to Saint.” Jason was fully clothed in running gear, he looked like he’d been up for ages waiting for me to wake up. He got up and walked over to pick my cell up from the nightstand, then threw it on to the bed next to me.
My heart raced as I looked up Mom and Dad’s number. An image of Saint hovered in my head, the one of him laughing for the first time last week. I touched the call icon for their home number. It rang about five times as my heart pounded out the seconds.
“Hello. This is Mrs. Macinlay.”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Rachel. How are you?”
“We’re okay. We walked around where Jason used to live last night. Is Saint okay?”
“Yes, dear, he’s fine.”
“Did he sleep okay?”
“Yes, all through the night. We’ve put him in our room as he’s used to sleeping in with you and Jason.”
“Thanks…” I sighed the word out in relief. Saint was okay. Yet… What if he didn’t miss me because I was such a crappy mom? That thought made me want him not to be okay, but that made me feel more of a shitty mom. “Could you put the phone to his ear?”
“He’s with Grampy, wait a moment, I’ll take the phone to them.” The line was silent for a while then she said, “Here you are.”
I heard breathing. “Saint, it’s Mommy. Hello, sweetheart.” There was a slight catch in his breath, that said he knew my voice.
Jason came over to the bed and bent down near my cell. “It’s Daddy too.”
“I miss you. I love you,” I whispered into the cell.
“We miss you and we love you,” Jason said loudly, before he straightened up.
Why did I keep judging Jason badly? He was here to fight for Saint. He wanted to adopt Saint. Of course he loved him too. If I kept doubting him, I was going to push him away. I had to stop my head from doubting him.
His mom came back on. “Saint was smiling and listening like he was trying to work out where you were in the room.”
“Give him lots of cuddles and kisses from us. I’ll call again tonight.”
“Okay, call as often as you want, and we’re going to cuddle him all day long.” Jason’s mom had become my mom too. She was really patient with my weirdness and paranoia.
“Thank you. Bye.”
“Goodbye, Rachel, give our love to Jason.” The call went dead.
I looked up at him. “She sends you their love. Saint smiled.”
Jason smiled at me, with his mouth shut. I wanted him to give me a big full-on broad smile. I wanted to smile like that too—I wanted my meds to wear off so that I could smile like that again.
“I’ll get up and go running with you.” I threw the comforter back. I had to walk past him because the room wasn’t very wide. He smacked my ass.
“Good girl.”
I glanced at him over my shoulder. The smile pulling at my lips had a warmth that came from my belly. Maybe my meds had started wearing off.
I turned around and looked at him. “I’m sorry I shouted at you last night.”
“It’s okay, you’re forgiven.” He shrugged it off.
We