Page 120 of Rage

Kathy

The giggle of the baby girl in my arms is a sweet sound.

I watch her tiny mouth open, little tongue peeking out, those rosy lips and tiny fingers clutching my fingers and my heart in their firm grip. And my hair, which she seems to have some kind of fascination with.

“She’s so tiny. How is it she can hold on so damn tight?”

Lara laughs. “Survival instinct, I think. Grip on to the nearest potential mammal.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s a reflex thing, involuntary shit. Palmar grasp, triggered by tendon stimulation, or some shit like that.”

I make a real effort to untangle myself from the vise-like hold she has on my hair as Lockey just stands there, chuckling lightly at my futile attempt. “What did you say her name means again?”

“Róisín Dubh? Means black rose; it’s Irish, like all our kids' names. Um… Keev’s and mine, I mean.”

Finally getting the last strands away from her, I hand the gurgling baby back to her red-haired father, all smiles and fluffy dark hair, knowing in my heart—I made the right choice.

Not the right choice for everyone, but the right one forus.

It wasn’t that we couldn’t have found a space for a baby, just that… Well, it would always have been a wedge between us, athing we couldn’t get past, and I needed to be able to start to heal.

So, we both had tubal litigations as well, because neither of us ever want to find ourselves in that situation again. We’d like to think it would never happen, but… Well, don’t we all until it happens to us?

But we made our choice. Together. We’re not cut out to be Moms. It was never in our game plan; I need to be free to create, and Lara? Well, she’s very much out of her element here with 5 kids and the baby. In fact, my love looks uncomfortable as all shit right now, which is almost amusing. Nothing ruffles Lara’s feathers. Unless that something is about 3 feet tall with sticky fingers and a chocolate covered face, it seems.

Fortunately, Caoimhe, the boy’s Mom, steps in to her rescue. “Aodhen, please leave the lady alone. She doesn’t want to get covered in chocolate icing any more than your father or I do.”

I know what they did. I don’t know details—hell, I don’t think I want to—but I know he’s not around to do it again to someone else. There’s some kind of sweet satisfaction in that fact, even if the thought of violence sends a chill right through my bones. Lara says she’ll tell me, someday, if I ever want to know.

I’m honestly not sure I ever will.

But I’m grateful, still; grateful that we have friends and allies that we can call on when times are bleak. It was the worst of us, the worst of our marriage together, but somehow, we came out the other side, stronger through adversity.

And these guys—this whole family understands the agony of the decision we were faced with. Lock and his wife, Anna? They made a different choice. Their eldest daughter, ironically with a similar name to mine; she’s a product of violence and abuse too, but they were in a position to want to be a family.

And this family will always be a safe space for us too.

THE END