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I saw them in bed together. Nothing shocking. No. Just innocently napping. Still. My baby with his head tucked on that greasy ratbag's chest. He was stroking my baby's beautiful blond hair with his nicotine stained paws. Big horrible hands to hurt him, bruise his delicate skin, take him, steal him away from his Mama.
The image flashed before my eyes as it almost always did. A tiny pink bit of flesh, born too early. The whole pregnancy wracked with terrifying pains and complications. Doctor said I was having a threatened miscarriage. God wanted to take him back to heaven too soon. I touched his frail skin for just a moment before he was whisked away to the NICU. The doctors fighting to keep him alive, on the precipice between life and death. I couldn't hold him. They took him away from me. My baby boy.
When I did get to hold him finally. He gripped onto my finger, blinking his big blue eyes up at his mama. Hearing his delicate breaths. I would protect him forever. I'd never let anything happen to him. No one would steal him from me again.
The ratbag became aware of me standing in the doorway with fresh laundry. Didn't look ashamed. A coldness in those blue eyes. Just asking me, What are you gonna do about it? Big bad wolf with my little lamb.
Wretched bile swirling acid in my stomach. Felt like sobbing and screaming and biting out his throat with my teeth. Don't hurt my baby. Don't you dare steal him from me. He was a devil, devil, devil...
There's my mother with her hand at my shoulder. Pulling me from the bedroom, closing the door. Hot tears spill down my face, painful sobs tearing through me. Led to the lounge where I drop the laundry everywhere, weep on my mother's shoulder.
"You're acting like you just saw him laid out in a coffin!" Mom exclaimed with exasperation. "You've known he's been seeing Benson for months now, what's the matter with you?"
"He's...he's gonna...mama he's gonna take him away from me..."
Mom clucked her tongue.
"That's what babies do," she told me. "They all go out on their own eventually."
"Not my baby..."
"Yes your baby," she said. "Don't act a fool, Angie. The harder you hang on, the more he'll want to run away for good. You keep actin' like this, he won't want to see you no more."
Never see my little boy again?
Remember the blood running down my thighs, feeling my little lamb stop moving inside. Terror, terror. The blood looked like so much, so much and it stank, filled my nose made me gag. Don't leave, don't leave, don't take him away, not my baby, not my baby. The doctors and nurses whisking him off, didnt get to hold him, God wanted to drag him from his Mama, gone, gone forever.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Mom looks with exasperation as I run for my room. Lock myself inside. From my bedside drawer I pull out the outfit he wore home from the hospital. Hug it to me close as I curl up on the bed, body wracked with tears. Little white jumpsuit with lambs on them. I was so proud to finally take him home after so long at hospital.
I never dumped him in a pram. I carried him everywhere. In a wrap close to my chest. He'd look up at me with the sweetest eyes, sucking his thumb. Singing little nursery rhymes to himself. Saying 'love you Mama.' My baby angel.
"You spoil him," the sperm donor would say. "He's gonna grow up a sissy mama's boy."
Or;
"Chrissake you gotta teach him to be independent, Angela!"
"He's gotta learn to stand up for himself, you're raising a goddamn pansy."
Endless criticism.
I'm glad I divorced him. Useless layabout. Always loudly scornful of everything I did, while lazing around unemployed. Like another child to look after. Not like Lee. Lee works tirelessly. Lee doesn't question a thing I do, never ever critiques me. Quiet.
"What's the matter with Mom?" I hear Hayley ask her Gramma.
"Don't worry, honey. She's just throwing a tantrum."
Then I hear the next room over;
"You boys want some breakfast? Gonna put grits on."
"Yes please ma'am."
"Thank you Gramma."
Ignoring me as I cried alone with my pain. As always.
That little boy is coming over again. The one Benny is sweet on. I don't mind him. Very polite, says his pleases n' thank you's. As long as he don't distract Benny from taking proper care of me, we'll have no problems.
Benny's put some dinner on. Sitting outside, having a smoke while it's in the oven. A new habit he's picked up, smoking outside the front door.
Reminded me of when he was little. He'd always wait outside for his Pa to come home. I don't know what happened, what made that man lose interest in his own son. He wasn't that bad a father for the first few years. Yeah, ain't perfect, but who is? He taught Benny all sorts of things, how to hunt, how to fish, shoot a rifle, work on a car. Hollered at him too much for my liking, would clip him 'round the ear if he was misbehaving, but all n' all I reckon he was a decent Dad. I'll never know for the life of me why he decided to walk out on us. Maybe he found some sweet young thing somewhere else. Maybe it was my fault. It was around the time I was starting to get sick.
But Benny kept waiting outside the door for his Pa to turn up. And I'd have to come out to get him when it was getting too late. Cried his soul out when his Pa wouldn't come home. Made me want to cry too. Made me want to shoot the bastard in the head, watch him bleed out and die.
"Just forget about it, honey," I'd tell him every time as he wailed in my arms.
I thought well at least he gotta father figure in that teacher of his who seemed so interested in him.
It was easier to blame everything on his Pa walking out. That's why he started wetting the bed, skipping classes, getting into trouble, growing all sullen and quiet and angry, that's why he started drinking. I can't bear to think....it couldn't have been...not Elliot who helped us out with finding Food Banks when I was struggling with the worsening sickness and being a newly single mother. It couldn't have been him. I trusted him. I let him into our lives. Into my son's life.
Just forget about it. Just forget about it.
His little boy arrives. Parks his car outside, gets out in that timid way of his. I watch as Benny walks over to grab and kiss him like he wants to eat his face off his head. He shouldn't be so rough with him. He looks like he's made of glass. Benny never really had many friends growing up. Didn't know how to play gentle. Still. I'm glad he wasn't left waiting this time.