December 25, 2009 | Nine Years Earlier
"I don't want to keep it — I don't want anything to do with it!"
Those words had been burned into Hailey's memory, playing on repeat in her head over the past nine months. She'd heard them when she woke up in the morning, while she was washing her hair in the shower, while she was in a lecture at school, while she was making dinner, while she was behind the wheel at a red light, while she was lying wide awake in bed at night...
"I don't want to keep it — I don't want anything to do with it!"
Even though their daughter was now in the world opposed to growing inside of her, Hailey couldn't block the noise — the sound of him yelling — out.
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Hailey's relationship with Wyatt had never been complicated; not a single part of it since second grade… until she'd found out that she was pregnant.
Best friends, to lovers, to strangers. The first and last felt like they'd happened overnight.
Hailey could remember watching the moving truck pull up to the house next door from her upstairs bedroom window. Not long after, a mini SUV had pulled up and parked behind it, and a boy that looked about her age had hopped out from the backseat. 'Great, another boy' might have been the inner monologue any other young girl would've had, but not Hailey. She had brothers. Boys, she knew how to deal with and could navigate. Boy were much easier to befriend for her, even at seven years old.
A quick exchange of their names on Wyatt's front porch had turned into an afternoon of playtime, and an evening discovery that their bedroom windows were situated right across from one another. As their friendship grew, they'd use this close proximity to their advantage, creating their own form of sign language that could be seen from window to window, and communicating to one another through walkie-talkies prior to owning cellphones. On school days, they'd walk together to and from the bus, and late at night and on weekends, Wyatt's house often ended up being a sort of safe-haven for Hailey when she wanted to escape the realities of her own home life. The best part about it? Wyatt never asked questions, even as they got older. He just loved and accepted her as she was, despite how much or how little she was willing to share.
Around sophomore year of high school, that love evolved from platonic to something more. Something physical. A kind of love that took them months after their first kiss to verbally admit. One night, under a snowy sky and bright city lights, Hailey finally did, stopping Wyatt in the middle of the State Street bridge to profess her feelings. She'd done it with tears in her eyes, bracing herself for it to change everything. For it to ruin everything.
It hadn't.
But one night in April, two years later, something Hailey confessed did.
"I'm pregnant," she'd told him, with the same tear-filled eyes and terrified look on her face, despite having convinced herself that everything would be okay. The night before she'd given herself a pep talk: they'd survived most of elementary school, middle school, and all but one and a half months of high school together — they could figure out something like this. They'd already seen each other through the best of times and the worst of times; Wyatt knew Hailey better than anyone else, and vice versa. They could easily manage something like this, right? Even though it was bigger than anything else. They were smart, they had each other, and they had options. They were already about to start the next chapter of their lives, and they could do whatever they wanted with them.
They could have a baby.
Could, being the key word.
But 'could have' and 'wanted to have' we're very, very different. And not every man was meant to be a father.
"I don't want to keep it. I don't want anything to do with it!"
Maybe, it had prompted Hailey to think, she didn't either.
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Snow was falling outside of Hailey's hospital room window.
A white Christmas.
It was beautiful — mesmerizing — and if she stared at the scene long enough, it was almost enough to completely quiet the chaos of her mind. For a second, the whole scene felt like a gift, even if just a temporary one.
"Ms. Upton?" Hailey closed her eyes at the sound of a voice cutting through her moment of peace.
"Hailey," she corrected the young nurse who'd entered, opening her eyes and slowly turning her head to look at her. She had a pleasant smile plastered on her face.
"How ya doing in here? Are you positive there's no one at all that I can call for you? It's Christm—"
"I know what day it is." Hailey turned her face back in the direction of the window, her voice tight, cracking with emotion she desperately tried to conceal as she spoke. "I'm fine, thanks."
No one was fine after giving up their child; after refusing to hold them — to even look at their face.
But if she saw her, if she held her in her arms… there was a chance that Hailey would want her — more than she knew deep down she already did, which was with every fiber of her being.
She couldn't keep her. She couldn't want her. Hailey had worked so hard to convince herself of this. Because she couldn't raise a daughter on her own and have the life she wanted for herself, as if she even knew exactly what that was at eighteen.
What she did know, was that having a daughter six months out of high school wasn't a part of her plan. Wyatt had been right about that much. And so Hailey had made a choice. A choice she wasn't at peace with, yet told herself she was, because Jack and Julie had been the perfect choice; they were the perfect family to adopt and raise her daughter.
Right?
Jack and Julie lived in a beautiful three bedroom house in a suburb about two hours outside of Chicago. Hailey had been kicked out of her parents' house after high school graduation, and currently lived in rundown studio she could just barely afford. He was an engineer and she was a teacher. Hailey still had to wait over two more years before she could join the Chicago Police Academy. Jack and Julie wanted a child and couldn't have one on their own. Hailey was giving them the gift they'd always wanted, right on Christmas nonetheless. And that was the best thing for all of them.
Right?
The nurse, who couldn't have been more than 7-10 years older than her, walked over to the window Hailey was staring out. She marveled at it, her eyes practically glittering as bright as the snow on the trees and the ground. "It's kind of enchanting," she thought aloud, earning Hailey's attention with her comment.
'Enchanting' sounded like something out of the mouth of a Disney Princess, Hailey thought. Or someone who wasn't very familiar with winters in Chicago. "You not from here?" She asked after a minute, reluctantly engaging despite wishing that she would go.
"Quite the opposite," the nurse started to say with a small chuckle. "San Diego." She turned to face her, the kind smile still on her face. "You?" She asked.
"Grew up in Greektown."
The nurse nodded in acknowledgement, turning her back to Hailey once more. A comfortable silence filled the air between them. Several seconds of it, in fact, each of them content to sit in it and continue to gaze out at the flurry of white. From the corner of her eye, Hailey clocked the nurse's shoulders rise and fall as she took a deep breath. "I was alone when my son was born, too," she told her then. Hailey's eyes were on her by the time she turned back around to face her. "He just turned nine in November."
Silence filled the room again as Hailey continued to stare, wordless.
Wordless. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Nauseous. Heartbroken. Was this nurse trying to make her feel better or worse?
"Please, don't," Hailey whispered. She let her head fall forward, blinking her eyes rapidly to rid them of the tears that had welled in them, threatening to betray her and fall. "Whatever you're trying—"
"Are you sure you don't want to meet her?" The nurse's words overlapped Hailey's as she spoke. Softer, she reminded her, "It's still within your rights…"
Hailey chewed on her lower lip, tugging at a loose thread on one of the blankets. "You think I'm making a mistake," she deduced.
The nurse shook her head. "It's actually… not something for me to have any sort of thoughts about."
Not having expected that answer, Hailey lifted her eyes, her eyebrows pulling together to form a crease in the center of her forehead.
Pulling up one of the chairs from the far side of the room, the nurse took a seat beside Hailey's bed. "But what I know… is that I've been right where you are and had that exact same expression on my face. And a nurse asked me if I was sure…"
"Because you weren't." Hailey finished her sentence, closing her eyes as she spoke. The sound of her own heartbeat was pulsing in her ears. Her palms were starting to sweat. The monitor above her started to beep, indicating her elevated heart rate. The nurse glanced at it, then back at Hailey, taking one of her hands in her own and giving it a squeeze.
"You're okay. Look at me, just breathe." The nurse waited for Hailey to make eye contact before demonstrating a deep breath, leading her through the motions of inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth. They repeated the action over and over, until the beeping stopped. "You don't have to," the nurse continued gently, "But I want you to know that if at some point over the next 24 hours you want to—."
"I want to," Hailey cut her off, her tone of voice confident despite the fear that was written all over her face.
The nurse smiled softly, recognizing the look in Hailey's as she nodded and gave her hand another reassuring squeeze. "Okay."
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Less than fifteen minutes later the nurse returned, pushing a white hospital bassinet. Hailey held her breath as the woman brought the cart to a stop next to her. "Here she is," she said, locking the breaks.
Hailey sat up and peered into the clear bassinet, her breath catching in her throat at the sight inside of it. Wrapped in a white blanket with dark green pine trees and a red hat on her head was the most perfect six pounds, three ounces, and nineteen inches of a human she'd ever seen.
"Would you like to hold her?" The nurse asked after a moment. Hailey nodded without lifting her eyes. Carefully, the nurse scooped the tiny bundle up and placed her in Hailey's arms, helping to position them to ensure they were both at ease in the process.
"She's so small," Hailey commented, her eyes never leaving her daughter.
"And she has your dimples," the nurse pointed out, rubbing a finger across the baby's cheek.
For the first time, Hailey smiled, her vision blurring once again with tears as she too noticed the tiny indentations that matched her own. "I—"
Hailey stopped speaking just as quickly as she stared. I love her, she had been going to say, the thought reflexive. Automatic.
Of course she loved her.
"I'll give you two some time," the nurse suggested then, turning to go. "Just press the call button if you need anything."
Hailey froze. Then —
"Is it too late if—" Hailey pressed her lips together, suppressing a sob. The nurse waited patiently in the doorway as she closed her eyes, regaining composure before reopening them and continuing. Finally, Hailey looked up from the baby in her arms. "Does it make me horrible — to those people out there, the ones who always wanted her… if I change my mind?"
"No," the nurse exhaled, almost assertive, as if her response was also automatic. She softened then, shaking her head. "Look, Hailey. Whatever decision you make is going to be tough."
"Right," Hailey said, a few tears falling as she blinked.
"But you're tougher," the nurse promised.
An exhale escaped Hailey's lips. Silently, she nodded.
"I'll be back to check on you both soon."
"Wait," Hailey said, having a realization as she started to turn away. "I didn't get your name."
The nurse put her hand on the door frame and looked back over her shoulder at the blonde. She smiled softly at the sight of the newborn drifting off to sleep in Hailey's arms. "Jordan."