Page 11 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Present day...

I wanted to kiss her last night, to devour her lips with the urgency I haven’t been able to shake since I left here more than two years ago. When my body brushed up against hers, I felt her erect nipples through the fabric of her bra and flimsy t-shirt. She wanted it, too.

After our heated exchange in her room, she was tense the rest of the night, hardly speaking to anybody and only smiling when Chloe was looking. Even so, she let me stay and spend time with my daughter. We spent the evening reading her favorite books and playing with baby dolls. I smiled more in those few hours than I have since the last time I was in this town.

Abby and her grandmother prepared dinner, leaving me to entertain and watch Chloe. Of course, the living room where she plays is in plain sight of the kitchen, but still. Abby’s grandmother, Ama as I now know her name, invited me to stay and eat. I eagerly accepted, not ready to leave just yet. After dinner, Abby gave Chloe a bath, put her in blue and white princess pajamas, and let me read her favorite bedtime story.

When she finally dozed off, Abby and I quietly slipped out of her room, leaving the door slightly open.

“I’ll see you out,” she said and turned to walk down the hall.

“Wait.” I reached out and gently grabbed her arm, halting her in her tracks. She looked at my hand before raising her gaze to my face, seemingly stunned by my touch. I released my hold on her, stepping close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look at me.

“Thank you,” I said sincerely.

“For what?” she asked, her breathy voice causing a stirring in my groin.

“For letting me be here. For allowing me a glimpse into her life.” I glanced back at her door, replaying the evening. “I had no idea what I’d been missing.” When I looked back at Abby, her chin began to quiver and her eyes filled with tears. “Abby,” I said softly, reaching up to wipe away the tear that had just escaped. She brushed my hand away and darted past me, shutting herself in her room. Shit.

I waited for her to emerge, but she remained hidden in the confines of her room. So, I bid Ama goodbye and headed back to the inn where I was staying. I crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow, but old memories plagued my dreams. I dreamt about my time in Africa, about the oppressive heat and hungry children. I dreamt about the intern who got sick while we were there and had to be flown back to the States. That was more nightmare than dream.

Then I dreamed about the last phone call I had with Abby, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself wake up. When I finally did awaken, I was mad and sad, craving answers even more than before.

I’ve got to find something to do today to stay sane until it’s time to go see Chloe. I won’t make the mistake of getting there early again. I thought about hitting the trails or rock climbing or mountain biking, but everything reminds me of Abby and the last time I was here.

I decide to head to the library to check out some books on parenting. I’ve got a lot of catching up to do and I don’t want to screw this up. I’m engrossed in a guide for potty training when I hear the tinkling laughter of children. I shut my book and place it back on the shelf, following the sound to the kid’s section. A dozen preschoolers sit in a semi-circle in front of a middle-aged woman reading a book. She gestures animatedly with her arms, using different voices for each character. She has their rapt attention, and their undivided focus gives me an idea.

I find the closest library employee and ask for a schedule for story time. She hands me a flyer with the library’s event calendar, and I scan over it before folding it and placing it in my pocket.

When I arrive at Abby’s house that night, I pull into the drive and park behind her car. Adele’s “Hello” plays softly over the radio; the irony of hearing that song after the dream I had last night is not lost on me. I reach down and switch the station, not wanting to hear anything else like that when I start my car back up tonight.

When I step out of my SUV, I walk past Abby’s late model four-door, looking it over, relieved she doesn’t drive that run-down truck anymore. I don’t know where she would’ve put a car seat in that bucket of rust.

Glancing into the rear passenger window, I study the pink and grey contraption secured in the center of her back seat. How does that thing work, anyway? If I ever get the chance to take Chloe somewhere, I’m going to need to purchase one of those. But that’s a big if.

I knock on Abby’s door, my stomach knotting with nerves and excitement. The prospect of seeing my daughter fills me with joy, but also a sense of anxiety. My every movement is tracked by Abby’s ever-watchful eyes when I’m here. Is she waiting for me to screw up? Does she want me to screw up so she can tell me to get lost?

The door opens and I hold my breath in anticipation. As soon as I see Abby’s face, I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

“Where can I buy a car seat?” Shit.

She tilts her head slightly, a perplexed expression pinching her brow.

“I mean, If I’m ever going to take Chloe anywhere, I’ll need one, right? Or do we just trade out the one you already have?” I don’t know how this works. I’ve never had to deal with this before.

“Um, I hadn’t really thought about it,” she begins slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I think it’ll be a while before we have to worry about that.”

“I want to take her to story time at the library tomorrow.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. I pinch my lips together to keep from spewing any more word vomit.

“Absolutely not,” she determines. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

“Abigail.” Ama appears at her side, placing a soothing hand on her arm.

“With your grandma, of course. She would be with us,” I offer hopefully. “That is, if you’d be willing to go,” I add, refocusing my attention on Ama.

“I’d love that,” she replies.

“Wait a minute,” Abby demands, shaking her head. “I never said she could go. You can’t just spring this on me!”

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