Page 19 of Absolution

Six

Christian

We take turns sitting by her crib, watching over our daughter as she tosses and turns in her sleep, her forehead sweaty, her silky, dark hair damp and curled at the temples. None of us have slept. It’s Kerry’s turn to try. I watch over my girls.

The kiss lingers still. I find myself tasting my lips time and time again. I was painfully hard for an embarrassingly long time after, and shame rolled through me at how I could think of nothing but fucking her when Cecilia is sick. The rejection struck harder than I’d have thought. And then her words, the words with no explanation, but I know what they mean. I’ve seen the agony in her eyes.

‘That’s not what hurts the most.’

Fuck!

It’s too late. I realize I’m going to have to let it go. Let her go. I already feel the vastness of the empty life that lies ahead. It won’t be very pretty, and I doubt I can take another shot at doing something else, being someone else, ever again.

It’s just not worth all the pain.

Sitting on the edge of Kerry’s bed, my gaze wanders from the little one to the adult and then back again. No matter what happens from here on, I feel blessed. Right now, in this moment, I have been touched by angels. People like these two don’t happen to people like me.

But here we are.

Here I am.

At this moment in time we are like one, united in our concern. I wince, thinking about what I did to Kerry, but then there’s Cecilia. There’s beauty too, not only ugliness and cruelty.

I close my eyes for a moment, feeling a flutter in my chest. Examining it closer, I realize it’s worry. I’m worrying. I never worry.

“Christian,” she whispers and sits up, crossing her legs as she smoothes out the duvet over them.

I jolt. “Yeah.”

“I’d never have pictured you—” She licks her lips and gives me a smile. Brief, but warm. “I’d never have thought you’d be sitting like this, you know… that you’d care.”

I smile back. “Makes two of us.”

Kerry’s eyelids flutter and she yawns hugely.

“You should lie down. I’ll be here.”

She doesn’t object and sighs as she falls back down, tossing and turning, trying to find the least uncomfortable position. The same does our daughter before yet another set of coughs pierce the night. The sound is harsh, raspy, as if something is tearing her little chest to pieces. When the cough finally subsides, a heavy snoring replaces the earlier noise.

“I’m so worried,” she says, stroking a few stray strands of hair off Cecilia’s cheek, looking up at me as if I could help.

“She’s never been ill before?”

Kerry shakes her head. “No. Never like this.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Just a cold.” I don’t know if I believe it myself, but I have to say something.

“Oh, God!” Kerry clasps her hands over her mouth as a look of terror fills her eyes.

“What?”

“I let her play outside the other day, and she got wet and cold. We stayed out too long, she was so happy to play in the mud and with the fallen leaves and—”

“Ker. You’ve got to stop blaming yourself for everything. You’re the most devoted mother I’ve ever met.”

Her eyes narrow as she regards me, for a moment distracted from her concern. “And how many have you met?”

“Uhm...” What the fuck? I can’t think of any. I think of Mama, my hardcore mob boss mom who took over the business when dad died way too young, a bunch of kids hanging on her skirts. She’s not the snuggly type. She’s cold, cruel and calculating.

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