Page 49 of When the Night is Over

Mike’s eyebrows are practically at his hairline. “Did you hang out at her house, get to know her family and everything?”

“Are you sniffing glue, brother?” I keep my expression neutral, but that ache is coming back, the one that hits right in the center of my chest. “I never stepped foot in their house.”Except for that one time.“I don’t think Christian or her father even knew about us.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

I nod, but can’t help wishing that her brother did find out. Maybe we would have fought. I could have landed a few hits for Timmy, for Mike and for Charlotte too.

“Do you know Wes Keller is a cop now?”

“That’s like the opposite of reassuring. I mean, he wasn’t the worst out of that pack, he didn’t torture me and Andrew as bad as some of the others, but he was a piece of shit. Another one of Christian’s lapdogs.”

“I think he has a thing for Charlotte.”

“You still haven’t told me anything about her.”

“She’s not like them, not at all.” I try to describe her beyond that, but I can’t. It hurts too much. “I just miss her.”

* * *

Charlotte

“Are you ready to fill out the paperwork? It’s a big hassle with social security and everything if we don’t file them before you’re discharged.”

“Discharged,” I joke. “I don’t live here?”

“For real…I don’t know what I’m going to do with myself when you’re gone. No one else watchesThe Bacheloraround here.”

Mary is my favorite nurse, but I love them all. I have a tremendous level of respect for the profession now, seeing firsthand how hard they work and how concerned they are about the well-being of all of us under their care. I’ll miss them, but I’m eager to get home. Weird…I now referred to Janelle’s as home.

“I only watchThe Bachelorbecause there’s no Netflix in here. It’s either that or watching those creepyNightlinemysteries.”

“So…Any ideas?”

When I wasn’t busy gazing at my beautiful son with awe and adoration, or fretting every time a specialist came in to speak with me and Janelle, I was considering what name to bestow on this little man. Every single day someone reminded me about filling out birth certificate. Who knew one flimsy little piece of paper could be capable of causing so much strife?

The first name took me a few days. I thought I’d see his face and immediately come up with the name that suited him best, but it didn’t happen like that. No, the only words that came to me when the nurse placed him on my chest wereThank you, GodandI love you.

I spent hours staring and smiling at him that night. He deserved a special and wonderful name. I tried out Simon, whispering it to him as he fed at my breast, but it just didn’t sit right with me. And I wasn’t naming him Bradley after my father, or Christian—hell no. I didn’t know either one of my grandfathers, so naming him James or Peter seemed ridiculous. What did I want for my son? Happiness, of course, and love. But looking on at him in the neonatal intensive care unit these past few days, I realized strength is what the both of us needed. I looked up boy names associated with strength. Maximus—hah, Aaron—not bad, Jerry—really?, and Ethan—hey, I like that.And even though I didn’t know James Caldwell, my mother’s father, I wanted this child to have some tie to her. Ethan James.

I assumed I’d write Simon Wade down as the birth father, even though I had no intention of reaching out to him, but the state of Michigan had different ideas. Naming Simon as the father required establishing paternity. I’d have to contact him—Surprise, you’re a daddy!—and have him sign a form in the presence of a notary. Not happening.

But leaving the line blank didn’t seem fair to my son and it made me feel cheap. It made me feel like one of those girls on those stupid talk shows who can’t figure out which one out of the three dudes she’s been sleeping with has impregnated her. To be fair, maybe that’s how people see me: careless, young and clueless. But that’s not how it is. Maybe our time together had been brief, but I did truly love someone in this life, and that someone had loved me too. We meant something to one another, and the two of us together created this child.

“I’m just going to give you something to chew on.” Mrs. Ryan was the social worker assigned to me when I was admitted to the hospital. This morning she eased into a chair holding my baby, looking down at him smiling as she spoke to me. “He’s going to know about this beautiful child. You might tell him this week, you may reach out to him next year, he may find out on his own at some point, or this boy will seek him out when he’s a young man.” Every scenario made my stomach churn with anxiety. “It’s never going to be easy, never going to be the right time.”

“I can’t tell him now.”

“Is there a time in the future when you can envision yourself reaching out to him?”

“Maybe once he finishes school?” She looks to me, asking for more. “He has a plan…His undergraduate and then law school. He’s brilliant, Mrs. Ryan.” I can feel myself blush as I say the words, bragging about Simon, knowing I sound like a fawning fool. “He’s on a full scholarship at Northwestern.” Shaking my head, I add, “I’m being realistic. Telling him now would ruin any chance he has at getting an education. He’s had a pretty hard life and this is his only shot.”

She glances over at the television, where the Real Housewives of who knows where had been muted upon her arrival, and then looks back to me. “Everything aside from your questionable taste in television tells me that you’re every bit as brilliant. I meet a lot of girls your age, Charlotte. Not many of them pass the time readingThe JungleorBlood Meridian. What have you got on your nightstand now?” she asks, tilting her head to look. “Ah,Tess of the d’Urbervilles.” She smiles. “Another light and easy read.”

“Tess is my girl,” I joke.

“Yes, I’m sure you can relate to her.” She shakes her head and the smile drops. “Charlotte, don’t be one of those girls, the stoic ones who suffer in silence and don’t reach out for what they deserve.”

“I’m not.”

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