Page 96 of Red Captive

“You’d better not. I know your penchant for running away after sex.”

“It happened once.”

“Once too many, if you ask me.”

She giggles softly, sounding a little out of it. Sounding sated.

I grin as I jog to the bathroom. I make quick work of the condom and then get back to Jen as soon as I can.

I pull her into my arms, holding her tight. She snuggles against me. I run my hand up and down her back. This feels good. It feels right.

We lie together for a while in silence. It’s comfortable and companionable. If someone had told me even a month ago that I’d feel this way ever again, I’d have laughed in their face, but here I am.

It feels good. All of it. I know I can’t allow myself to open up too much, to get too wrapped up in this female. It’ll be over soon enough, one way or another. There won’t be much chance for us to get in too deep.

Jen stirs. “I want to tell you about my mom now,” she says in a small voice as she lifts her head.

“If you’re ready, I’m all ears.” And I mean it. What happened to Jen, to her family… I know it’s bad. It’s affected her whole life.

She swallows thickly and nods once. Her eyes are a little glazed over, and she’s staring at the wall. Then she looks up at me, her eyes soft and vulnerable, and I feel a rush of emotion that I can’t quite put into words.

“My mom hasn’t had an easy life. Her parents, my grandparents, died before I was born. They died in a car accident. My mom was just eighteen and an only child. Two years later, she met my dad and had me soon after. As you already know, he left when I was still tiny.”

I nod.

“It was just her and me for a long time. She didn’t date. She put all of her focus and energy on me. She worked really hard to keep a roof over our heads.”

“Sounds like someone else I know. Selfless and dedicated.”

Jen gives me this half smile. “We look alike, my mom and me. At least, we used to look alike. I told you that my mom was my spitting image when she was younger. Anyway, she was a great mom…really great. I was around fourteen when she met Trevor. They fell in love and got married. Trevor was such an awesome man. He took care of us. We got along. Everything was so perfect. We were thrilled when we found out that my mom was pregnant.” She beams for a moment, but it soon fades. “Despite her being older, everything was textbook. Caleb’s birth was easy. Well, as easy as a birth can go.” She shrugs. “Trevor was on cloud nine. Caleb was Trevor’s first kid. Only my stepdad called Caleb his second-born because he considered me to be his daughter.” She gives a sad smile.

“He sounds like he was a good guy.”

“The best. They say that the good die young; well, that was the case with Trevor.” She wipes away a tear and then drags in a breath, like it’s too hard to continue with the conversation. “Soon after my mom came home from the hospital, things started to fall apart. Little things, at first, like she didn’t change his diaper right away or left him crying a little too long. Little things became bigger. Not changing him, not feeding him, not wanting to get out of bed, not wanting to eat. She said she was tired.”

I push a wisp of hair behind her ear but stay silent while she works through what she wants to say.

“My mom was diagnosed with postpartum depression. We were told it’s normal, that it happens to roughly three in ten women. She was given meds to take. My stepdad and I took turns staying with her and looking after Caleb. We hired help when we could afford it. We were told that she would get better. We were told to hang in there. Postpartum depression can last for days or weeks, sometimes even months. In severe cases, it can last longer.” Her lip wobbles, but she gets herself back under control. “She didn’t get better; she spiraled, Steel. By the time Caleb turned one, she had been diagnosed with full-blown depression. I had quit college to stay home to look after them. We couldn’t afford full-time care. Trevor had to work. We had already started racking up medical bills. My mom needed therapy and meds. None of it seemed to work.”

“That sounds like a lot. How was Caleb through all this?”

“Itwasa lot. Caleb was good. He had Trevor and me. I had Trevor. He was a rock. He was amazing.”

“I’m sure you were amazing, too.”

“I tried so hard. There were times I wanted to run away. It felt like anything we did wasn’t enough. My mother was a shell. She only bathed when I bathed her. She only ate when I fed her. She was a zombie. Nothing worked. She looked at the televisionbut didn’t watch. Had no interest in Caleb, or anything, for that matter. It all felt useless. Then, a miracle happened; her therapist started her on a new drug, and she seemed to get better. She started showing interest in things, in Caleb. But she also started eating and put on weight. Before long, she was putting on excessive weight. They changed out her meds again, but it didn’t help. She ate all the time. Food had become her crutch.”

“I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”

“Overeating is actually a common symptom of depression. It’s probably the most common. Then there’s also alcohol and drug abuse. People will do anything to self-medicate. To make themselves feel better, especially when the drugs don’t work like they should. It was food for Mom. At least she was back and more herself. That’s what we told ourselves. But she was also steadily gaining weight. So, we tried only keeping healthy food in the house and sticking to healthy meal plans, but she would hide food and binge eat. I know it sounds a little crazy. A little unreal.”

“Not at all. Your poor mom.” I run my hand down Jen’s back.

“We reached a point where she lost some of the weight. Where she was still stable mentally. We were finally on the right path. It was all coming together.” Another tear tracks down her cheek. I want to wipe it away. I don’t want to see her upset and crying. I want to take all of her pain, but sometimes it’s good to let it out, so I leave her to figure it out.

A few more tears fall, and she makes this little sobbing noise. “That was when Trevor died. It was so unexpected.” She swallows thickly.

“Holy shit! I mean, I know he died, you told me, but just as your mom was getting better. That’s really awful.”

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