JACKSON
Lying in bed with April, the morning comes to life while our house stays still and silent. Peyton is unlike most babies, sleeping in until 8 or even 8:30 on some days, and April will sleep until she's woken.
I was always used to being the last one up, waking to my wife's face while she either sits with the baby on our bed or busies herself in another way. I used to love seeing her sit against the headboard and do work on her laptop, looking scholarly while wearing her blue reading glasses. Now, she has no reason to put them on.
Today, I simply stay on my back and listen to the rhythm of her breathing. It's slow and very deep; it's clear she's nowhere near the surface. She's turned on her side to face away from me, and I can see her shoulder rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. It's a comforting sight, knowing she's right here and decently at peace. While wakeful, she doesn't experience this tranquility often.
Interrupting the silence, though, my phone rings on the nightstand. I jump, not expecting the sound, and grab it before it wakes April. Glancing at the Caller ID, I see it's Libby Kepner calling.
"Hello?" I say, keeping my voice low and even. April is sleeping so soundly; the last thing I want is to disturb her.
"Hi, Jackson," Libby says. "Is this a good time?"
I glance at my wife beside me, who hasn't even stirred. She's become such a deep sleeper, talking at a low volume is probably safe.
"Sure," I say. "What's up?"
"Sorry for calling so early," she says, and I can hear her kids' voices in the background. My guess is that she's already been up for hours. "I just… I wanted to talk to you and see how things are going."
"Oh," I say, nodding. "Sure, of course."
April's family isn't rich by any means. They don't have the money to take off work and come to Chicago to be with her. They wanted to come right after it happened, but April refused. And as time went on, the window of opportunity became smaller and smaller. They still haven't seen her in person since it happened - not a single one of them. She'll barely even talk to them on the phone.
"She's been doing better," I say, glancing over while I speak. I gently adjust the sleeve of her pajama shirt that got folded up, smoothing it down slowly. "But Rome wasn't built in a day. It's still not easy."
"It's been almost a month, right?" Libby says. I count the days in my head and agree with her. "I can't believe it's been that long. I feel terrible for not coming to see her."
"It's…" I begin, and look at April once again. "Probably for the best. Her morale is improving bit by bit, but she's not the same April you knew. She's very self-conscious. She looks different now, and she behaves differently, too. It would be jarring for you, I'm sure, and it most definitely would be for your kids."
"But she's still my sister," Libby insists. "I don't want her to think we abandoned her."
"She doesn't think that," I say, eyes still on my wife. "I promise you. She mentioned last week or so that she wants to try therapy, so we're going to get that set up soon. After she gets settled there, my guess is that she'll be more apt to seeing people from before." I shake my head and fix my words. "More apt to spending time with you, I mean. All of you."
"Therapy?" Libby says. "That's good."
"I know," I say. "I think it will really help. I'm looking into support groups for myself, too. I want to make sure I'm doing everything right for her." I pause. "Sometimes, I don't feel like I am."
It's the first time I've said that out loud. I've thought it plenty, but since the accident, we've been so isolated. Our friends don't come around, and neither do our families, because April feels like some sort of mutant creature that would only offend them to look at. Because of this, I've had no one to vent to, no one to share the emotional weight with. I've shouldered it all myself - and in no way am I complaining, but it does get heavy at times.
"That's so good of you, Jackson," she says. "She's lucky to have you."
"Well," I say. "I know she'd do the same if the tables were turned."
"You don't need to downplay it," she says. "You're taking care of her and your baby while still working. That's saying a lot. You should take pride in that."
"I don't know if 'pride' is the right word," I say, rubbing one eye with my eyebrows raised. "It's a lot to take in, Lib. I'm sorry, I'm not being very forthcoming. She's your sister, you should know all that's been going on. But it feels like we've been stuck in another world."
She's quiet for a moment, turning thoughts over in her mind. "We moved the anniversary party, you know," she says. "And it's coming up this weekend. Maybe you three should come. I know it would do us a lot of good to see her, to hug her, you know? With this lack of contact, it feels like something is missing over here. And maybe it would do her some good to come home, too. Just for a day or two."
I nod slowly, because I know she's right. April loves being around her family; they always light a special spark in her that I love seeing. It just might be hard to convince her to make the trip.
"I'll ask her," I say. "I can try."
"We'd love it if you came," she says. "You guys are all we ever talk about. It would put our minds at ease to see your faces in person."
I smile a bit. "I'll do my best," I say. "But I'm going to leave it up to her."
"Alright," Libby says. "Well, thanks for chatting and catching me up. I really appreciate it, Jackson."
"Of course," I say, then hang up after a few more pleasantries. I set the phone on the nightstand and get comfortable on the pillow again, then notice April stirring. She's waking up, eyelids fluttering as she rolls over, seeking me out in a way she's been doing the past few mornings. "Hi, honey," I say, touching her arm to let her know where I am.
She makes a soft sound and scoots into my open arms, pressing her forehead against my chest and draping her arms over my sides. I kiss her hair, avoiding the scarred parts of her face, and squeeze her close.
"How'd you sleep?" I ask, tickling her back with the pads of my fingers.
"Good," she says, reciprocating the motion. "I dreamed about you."
"Oh, yeah?" I say, smiling with my chin resting on top of her head. "What about?"
"You were talking," she says. "And then I woke up."
"Oh," I say. "That wasn't a dream."
Interrupting the conversation, Corky jumps up on the bed and makes April flinch with surprise.
"It's just the fool," I say, flattening my hand on her side. "It's alright."
"He scared me," she says, nudging her body even closer to mine. "But who were you talking to?"
"Your sister called," I say. "She wanted to know how you're doing, and also invite us to your parents' anniversary party in Moline this weekend. What do you think?"
She's quiet, leaving the question unanswered. I don't know if she's pretending I didn't ask, or if she's formulating a response in her head.
"All of them miss you," I say. "They'd love to see you. I know… it might not be what you want right now, and you're probably not crazy about the idea. But I told her I'd at least ask you."
She drags a thumb over my side, which gives me goosebumps. Lately, within the past few days to a week, she's been more hands-on with me than she has been since the accident. It's definitely heartening, and it reminds me of how things used to be.
"I'd like to go," she says.
"You would?" I ask, trying not to sound shocked. She nods. "They'll be really happy to hear that."
"I miss them," she says, then pauses. "But they'll be scared of me."
"What do you mean?" I say. "Why, because of your eyes?"
"Of course, because of my eyes," she responds. "Not everyone is like you, Jackson. I don't want them to see my eyes looking the way they do."
"Maybe you can wear sunglasses, or something," I say. "Would that make you feel better?"
She nods and pulls me tighter, nestling her head in the crook between my neck and shoulder. "How come you always know the answer?" she asks.
"I don't," I say, laughing. "Actually, I barely ever do."
"But with me, you do," she says.
"Well, that's because you've been my wife for way too long," I joke. I get a giggle out of her, and my chest expands with warmth.
"Jackson," she breathes, after a long period of silence.
"What, bitty," I say.
"I'm scared that… I don't know. I'm scared that… that sex is gonna be different because I can't see."
The statement seems to come out of nowhere, but I don't question it. Judging by the way she said it, it's been on her mind for a while. "What makes you say that?" I ask.
"I used to love seeing you," she says. "I used to need to see you. Now, I can't. What will that mean? We were so good… you… you were so good. What if it's not the same for me anymore?"
I think it over before answering. "I think it's impossible for it to be the same," I say. "But I think there's a chance it could feel better."
She scoffs. "How?"
"Your other senses might be heightened," I say, and close my eyes thinking about it. I miss being intimate with her more than I can say. We used to have sex frequently; once a day, if we could manage. Taking care of myself is nowhere near the same, and I miss pleasuring her. That was half the gratification.
"I can't stop thinking about it," she says. "About you… about… doing it."
"Really?" I ask.
"I've been scared to bring it up," she says. "Because I don't know how it'll feel. And what if it's bad? What if you never want to have sex with me again because of how bad it is?"
"That's the most far-fetched thing you've ever said, and you've said some crazy shit," I mutter, chuckling. She snorts, too. "I do miss being with you," I admit. "But I never wanted to push you."
"I know," she says. "I know you miss it." She pulls her face out of my neck and rests her head next to mine on the pillow, using her hands to frame my face. She strokes my skin, running her fingers through my beard, and inches closer until we're kissing. When she pulls apart, she says, "But I'm saying you don't have to miss it anymore."
Her eyes are open, and I look deep into them. They're a shiny white this morning, and her eyebrows are growing back which gives them more feeling. As I look at her, I'm overcome with a feeling of thankfulness that she's mine. The world could flip on its head - just like her personal world did - and she would still be mine. I'd still be married to the light of my life.
"You want to?" I ask. "Seriously, April, if you're not ready, we don't have to."
"I am ready," she says.
"You just said you were scared, though," I mention.
"I want you to prove me wrong so my mind will be quiet," she says. "It's all I've been thinking about lately. I just want you to remind me how amazing it is to be with you. Because it was amazing. And I want to feel that again."
I kiss her hard, with passion and gusto. I hold her face in my hands and she melts into me, winding her arms around my neck and copying the motion with her legs to my waist.
"Just…" she says. "Go slow, please. And…" She presses her lips together and blinks a few times. "Could you tell me… tell me what you're doing? Just this once." Her hands shake when she touches my face again, and she laughs weakly. "It feels like our first time all over again, I'm sorry. I shouldn't be this nervous."
"You're allowed to be nervous, bitty girl," I say. "I'll do whatever you need me to do. And if it gets to be too much, we can stop."
"Okay," she whispers, trailing her fingers over the shells of my ears as she nods. "Okay."
I prop myself up on elbow and hold the side of her face to open my mouth wide over hers. She breathes into me, chest rising, and closes her eyes from the feeling. She keeps her arms looped around my shoulders as she slips her tongue into my mouth, and I relish the feeling of it moving alongside my own. She's the best kisser I've ever known; she puts her heart into everything she does, but most of all, she puts it into the way she kisses me.
"I'm gonna touch your boobs now," I say, lips moving against her mouth. I nip her bottom lip and take it with me, letting it pop back after a moment. "Okay?"
She nods fervently, and I hold one breast over the thin material of her silky camisole. Her nipple pokes through and I rub my thumb in circles over it, feeling it harden even more. I moan as I break from her mouth and move to her chest, where I kiss her through the fabric and get it soaking wet with my tongue.
"Oh…" she moans, arching her back to get closer to me. She holds the back of my head and pushes me roughly against her chest, and I smile to myself. "God, baby."
"I'm gonna take your shirt off," I say, and help her sit up with two steady hands on her back.
She nods breathlessly, and I strip the soft shirt over her head and toss it to the side. Now, she lies under me - topless, skin creamy and covered in freckles, nipples blush pink and ready for me to get my mouth on them.
"You're beautiful," I say, lowering my head to skim my nose along her sternum. "April, you're so beautiful."
I hear her smile; I don't need to see it. She keeps her hands on the back of my head, fingers dancing, and winds her legs around mine. "Do you really mean that?" she asks.
"April," I say. "My baby, you are the most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth." I lick the round underside of her breast and move upwards towards the middle, breathing hotly onto her skin. "And now, I'm gonna put my mouth all over your nipples, baby."
She groans when I suck one between my teeth, worrying it softly and scraping over the peaked bud. I hold the sides of her ribcage while I suck on her, and the sounds she makes are desperate and enough to get me way past the point of hard.
"That feels so good," she whimpers. "Jesus, babe… I can't… my god…"
"You can't what?" I say, peppering kisses between her breasts as I move from one to the other. "Tell me, beautiful."
"Mmmm…" she groans, lifting her hips so they collide with mine. She laughs lightly and scratches her nails across my scalp, breathing deeply so her stomach pushes out and makes me move with it.
"That's what I thought," I say, moving lower and sucking portions of her belly between my teeth to give her hickeys. "I'm giving you hickeys on your stomach now," I say. "So only I can see them."
She twitches with each new kiss; her stomach has always been crazy sensitive, just like her ears. When I finally get to the waistband of her pajama shorts, she freezes and brings her hands to her chest, absentmindedly covering her breasts while waiting to find out what my next move is.
"I'm gonna eat your pussy now," I say, lips moving over the crotch of her sleep shorts. She inhales sharply, making her rib cage show, and widens her thighs subtly.
"Yes," she breathes. "Okay."
I pull her shorts and underwear off at the same time, just slow enough to torture her. She squirms as I do, and once she's completely bare, she presses her knees together.
"You don't have to hide, sweet baby," I say, pressing kisses to her kneecaps before moving any higher. I stroke her thighs and the light hair on them stands up, chills rising after. "You're gorgeous. Every single inch of you. And I mean that." I lean forward and press a kiss below her bellybutton, which makes her twitch again.
When I get my hands on her thighs and ease them apart, her muscles are more relaxed and she lets out a deep exhale. I bend her knees and widen them further, then get comfortable in the place I've missed being so very much.
When I get my mouth on her, her body goes from expectant to completely slack. Her hand finds its way to my hair and roots itself in my curls, and her hips jolt to hit my waiting mouth. It's like nothing has changed - I still bury my face in her heat as far as I can, and I make her scream with pleasure. I don't stop until her whole body is vibrating, and even then, I go harder. I slide three fingers inside her and pump them fervently, and with her thighs spread as far as they'll go, she squirts all over my mouth and chin, and it slowly drips to hit the comforter.
"Oh, shit," she breathes, panting hard. Her entire top half is painted a crimson red. "Oh, shit. Oh, shit, Jackson, shit…"
"Baby," I say, licking my lips and gathering the remaining liquid on my chin with my hand. "You squirted."
"What?" she says, still trying to catch her breath. "What did you… what?"
I pick up her hand and run her fingers through mine, showing her what she did. "You… squirted," I say, feeling more satisfied than ever. "All over my face. And it was the fuckin' hottest thing I've ever seen."
She rubs her fingertips together and lets her jaw hang open in shock, thighs still parted. Taking advantage of her position, I bend to kiss her outer lips, soon turning my attention to her soft inner thighs.
"So good, baby," I say. "You did so good."
"I hope you're not done," she says, fumbling for my shoulders and motioning for me to move up. "I want you inside me still, too."
I chuckle and kiss her cheek over and over, undoubtedly getting the liquid that came from her all over her skin. At this point, we're both filthy.
"What do you want," I say, caressing her hair out of her eyes. "Missionary, doggy, or something else?"
She feels her way to my face and frames my cheeks in her hands. "Take me to the shower," she says, and I waste no time in doing just that.
I lift her out of bed and carry her to the bathroom stark naked, turning on the shower after setting her down. Once we're inside, I guide her under the jet and rinse us both down, sudsing her body with a loofah before taking her arms and pressing her palms to the cool tile.
"You ready, baby," I murmur, right into her ear as I hold her hips in my hands.
"Yes," she says, nodding and turning her head towards mine.
I kiss her cheek and hold my erection with one hand as I push it inside her, and she lets out a long, delicious moan as I bury myself all the way. She throws her head back and I reach around and hold the front of her neck, opening my mouth on her ear while rocking my hips against her ass.
Her fingers curl against the wall and her back expands with breath while I let the hand on her neck sneak lower to her breasts. I keep my pace slow and steady as I suck on her earlobe, and she grits her teeth because the feeling is so much. I'm still reeling from the fact that she squirted earlier, so I couldn't be any higher on cloud 9 than I am right now.
Plus, I don't think I fully realized how much I missed being immersed in her body. My person, my best friend, my wife - being this close to her means everything. There was a loose piece between us, and now it's back in place, more solid than ever.
"I love you," I say, whispering under the steady stream of water.
"I love you, too," she says, reaching to hold my head with one arm. "I love you so much."
As I continue, I press my face into her neck and wrap my arms around her waist to finish inside of her. She orgasms, too, pushed right against the wall, and I press kisses all over the back of her head and shoulders as she finds her way back to earth.
"Jackson," she says, turning around to seek me out. Once she's in my arms, I hold her tight and touch the tip of her nose with my own. When I look close, I see she's crying.
"What is it, bitsy?" I ask, nudging her nose. "Why're you crying?"
"You…" she begins, then hiccups. She gains some composure, lies her hands flat on my chest, and looks up again. It almost feels like we're making eye contact. "You made me feel like I could see again."
…
The next morning, the day we're headed to Ohio, the baby wakes up pissed off. She's crying when I pick her up out of the crib, when I change her diaper, and even when I bring her to see April.
"Look, there's Mama," I say, pointing to where April is sitting on the bed in a tank top and underwear. "Wanna go see Mama?"
"What's wrong?" April asks as I sit down on the mattress, bringing the baby with me.
"She won't tell me," I joke. "Here. Take her, see if she wants you."
I hand her over, and April tries to get her little body situated. Peyton can't get comfortable though, and I see the frustration showing on her face as she fights her mother's every movement. Eventually, she spins herself around and gets a handful of the collar of April's shirt, tugging it with persistence.
"Oh," I say. "She wants to nurse."
April's eyebrows furrow as she changes her grip on our daughter. "She's pulling at me?"
Peyton starts screaming louder, demanding what we both know she wants. "Just try," I say. "If it will get her to stop, might as well try."
"I don't…" she begins, but doesn't finish. Instead, she tries to maneuver her shirt to pull it down, but it's too tight and it doesn't work. "Hold on," she says, and hands me the baby before stripping it off entirely, leaving her topless when reaching for Peyton again. "Here."
I watch them for a moment as April tries to get her situated, but she can't get it right and Peyton is too upset to find the way on her own. So, I reach over and guide the baby's head while holding one of April's small breasts in my hand, helping her find the nipple - and she eventually does.
"Thanks," April says, stroking Peyton's skin as she latches.
She doesn't stay quiet for long, though. In a moment, she pulls away from the nipple with a disgruntled sound, and April touches the place where she'd been.
"I'm not sure if anything's coming out," she says, jiggling the baby to try and keep her calm. It doesn't work. "Can you check, please, Jackson?"
"Um…" I say, eyeing her chest with furrowed eyebrows. "How, exactly?"
"If you put your mouth on me, I'll end you," she says, with a smile and a giggle. "Just pinch it. Softly!"
I do as she says, but nothing happens. "Nope," I say.
"Okay…" she says, and I can see the tension on her face as she switches Peyton's body around to face the other breast. "Let's try this one, then."
The baby presses a flat hand to the middle of April's chest, fingers fanned out while she rests in the crook of her mother's elbow and tries to nurse again. But it ends much in the way the first one did, with no result.
When I look at my wife's face - her chin is trembling but she's trying to hide it. "I'm dried up," she says, switching the baby's position so she's shrieking over her shoulder instead. "I can't nurse her anymore. I'm done."
"Hey, it's okay," I say, reaching out to touch her chin. She doesn't flinch, but I see in her expression that she feels defeated. "I can take her downstairs and make her a bottle. It'll be alright. She likes that just fine, anyway."
"I'll come, too," she says, which surprises me. Usually, this is about the time where she gives in to her blindness and lets me take over. "Just… help me down the stairs."
"Okay," I say, trying not to sound taken aback. I like this development. "Sure, let's go."
We make it down the stairs, though April still isn't wearing a shirt, and make Peyton a bottle that calms her down. She stops crying, holds the bottle herself, and sits in her high chair like it's any other day.
"Phew," I say, then look to April. "You okay?"
She chews her lip and says, "I think so." A pause. "Just… that phase is over. My body just stopped, because I wasn't letting her do it. And now, it's done. Just like that. She'll never nurse again."
"No, she won't," I say, coming towards her and placing my hands on her bare shoulders. "But that's okay. She's getting big. And you know what?" She tips her face towards mine and I rest a hand on her belly. "There's another little one coming, and we can do it all again."
"Yeah," she says. "But… I don't know. It's a mom thing."
"Is it also a mom thing to walk around your house - that has many windows, mind you - without wearing a shirt or a bra?" I ask, chuckling.
She crosses her arms over her chest and juts her chin at me. "Yes," she says. "For your information, yes, it is."
…
The car ride to Moline is long, and towards the end of it, April becomes withdrawn, quiet and sullen. It reminds me of the way she was acting a very short time ago, and I don't like that it's returned. The wife I recognized was starting to make her way back, and the fact that this one is still under there is unsettling.
I don't call attention to it, though. Instead, I try and liven up the car ride with songs and stories, but Peyton falls asleep and April ignores me. So, I give in to the silence that shrouds us until we pull into the Kepners' driveway, one that's already full of cars.
"Are we here?" April asks.
"Yep," I say. "And it looks like everyone else is, too."
She fumbles for her sunglasses and puts them on before I can even unbuckle. Peyton is still asleep, so I help April out first and hand her the baby, then guide her up the path by the small of her back.
"They're all going to be talking at me," she says, chin tucked low. "Everyone at once. I don't know if I can handle it, Jackson."
"I'm right here," I remind her. "If it's too much, we can go someplace quiet. They're your family, itty-bitty, they understand you."
"No, they don't," she says. "Not anymore. I don't even understand me." She gravitates even closer to my side. "Only you do."
"They deserve a chance," I say. "And we came all this way. Let's just go inside, I'm sure they're all watching right now anyway. Nosy shits."
She snorts at that, shoulders bouncing as she laughs. I keep a good hold on her as we stand in front of the door, and before I can even ring the doorbell, Karen Kepner appears and greets us.
"Hello, hello!" she says, then lowers to a whisper when she sees Peyton is asleep. "Oh, I'm so sorry! Hello, hello! Come in, you two. Please, come in. April, honey… April, there's a step. Watch the step."
"Don't worry about it," I tell Karen, then guide April into the house. There are plenty of people around, but suddenly everyone has stopped talking and begun staring. April cowers, much in the way she did when we had to go back to the hospital for follow-up appointments soon after it happened. "Is there somewhere we could lay Peanut down?" I ask.
"Of course," Karen says. "The guest room, down the hall."
We make it there with no more words exchanged. I help April to the bed and she lays the baby down in the middle, and I surround her with pillows so she won't fall off.
"Is she okay?" April asks, stuck to my side again with both arms wrapped around my middle.
"Perfect as she ever was," I say.
"April, baby," Karen says tentatively, from right beside us. "I need to hug you."
April reluctantly separates from me and lets her mother take her in her arms, and I notice her stiffness - though I hope Karen doesn't. She rubs her daughter's back and gives her a good squeeze, then goes for the sunglasses that rest on her nose.
"No," April barks, as soon as she realizes what her mom is about to do.
"But you're indoors, sweetie," Karen says.
"I know," April says. "I just… I want them on. I need them. For my sake… and-and everybody else's, I need to keep them on."
Karen looks to me, but I don't give a reaction. April doesn't need my validation, she has a voice of her own and she used it.
We go back out to where everyone else is, and I spot April's three sisters gathered in the living room, waiting hesitantly for the completion of their quartet. Their eyes shine with expectation and two of them are wringing their hands. I put my lips close to April's ear, stroke her shoulder with my thumb, and say, "Your sisters are waiting for you."
"My sisters?" she repeats.
"They're right in front of you," I say, still rubbing her shoulder. "Take a few steps, and Alice can hug you."
"Alice?"
"I'm right here, Mouse," Alice says, using a nickname April told me about a long, long time ago. Her family all called her Mouse when she was young because she was so incredibly little.
April breaks from me and takes a couple wavering steps forward, using her arms to find the way. I don't help her; I don't need to. Instead, she falls into her sisters' open arms and they embrace their missing link with everything they've got.
…
April and I spend time quietly among other people, and I tell her who comes up, who speaks, and she lets me know when she's had enough. We hang around everyone for a long time, longer than I thought she'd last, then she starts to weaken.
She stops talking as much. She clings to my side and doesn't let me go. When Peyton wakes up and it's time to have cake and ice cream, everyone wants a turn holding the baby and April gets overwhelmed. I can see it on her face, but she doesn't say it aloud.
When she starts acting like this, I watch her family stop recognizing her. They don't know the reclusive, silent, hidden-eyed woman in front of them. They know the bubbly, vivacious one with the loud laugh. But in moments like these, that's simply not who April is anymore. They'll have to get to know this version, too.
"Let's take a minute," I say, quietly so no one else hears. "Let's take a break, bitsy baby."
"We can?" she murmurs, and her voice is merely a peep.
"Yeah, let's go," I say, then scoot back my chair and help her out of hers. Everyone else at the table looks over, and I'm sure my eyes tell tehm all they need to know.
"Where's Pey-Pey?" April asks, as we walk down a quiet hallway.
"She was stuffing her face on Kimmie's lap," I say, smiling. April smiles, too.
"She loves cake," she whispers, and I lead her into a bedroom and sit down with her on the bed.
"Whose room is this?" I ask. "David Cassidy poster, light blue walls. Frilly white curtains."
"Libby," April says, very quietly. She leans against me with her whole weight, and lets out a long breath.
"You're doing so good," I say. "I know it's taken a lot out of you. But their faces… baby, they're so happy to have you around. They really needed this."
She nods slowly. "No one knows," she mutters. "About the baby. No one knows. And I don't know how to tell them."
I'm quiet for a moment, considering what she's said. "Do you want to tell them?"
She nods, subtly and then more sure. "I just don't know how."
I shrug, thinking it over. "Just… say it."
"It wouldn't come out right," she says. "Nothing comes out right anymore. I can't look anyone in the eye. I don't know where I'm talking. I just… talk. Into the open. No one listens."
"I listen," I say.
"I don't mean you."
"They listen, too," I assure her. "Bitty, you gotta give people more credit. The world is not out to get you."
"But that's easy for you to say," she says, a bit of anger laced in her voice. "You didn't get acid thrown in your face. You didn't get a life handed to you that you never wanted. You didn't get… this."
"I know," I say, not wanting to spark her temper. I know I didn't say the right thing, but my heart is in a good place. "And I know you did. But you have people around you who just want to help."
She doesn't say anything then. She doesn't argue, doesn't refute me, she just leans against me in the way we've both grown so used to. She yawns, and I figure she must be exhausted. She never has this much activity in one day.
"I want to tell them," she says, and I notice she's resting one hand flat on her belly. "When we go back out. But can we stay here a little bit longer?"
"We can stay here for as long as you need," I tell her.
We go and rejoin the party about fifteen minutes later, and everyone is still sitting at the table. I help April into her chair and give her Peyton when she asks, and they sit together content as can be. Our baby leans against April's chest, the back of her head against her sternum, and she watches everything her mother can't.
"There's something I wanna say," April mutters, but her voice is so quiet that no one picks it up except for me. I'm used to tuning into her, but everyone else is caught up in their own boisterous conversations. I don't speak for her, though, that won't do anyone any good. She's got to use her own voice, get her own power back. So, she clears her throat and tries again. "I have something I wanna say?"
"Oh, hold on," Karen says. "April, honey, what?"
"I have something," she says, and wraps her arms tight around Peyton's pudgy belly. "I don't really know how to say it, so I'm just gonna… say it." Her eyebrows crease a bit. "I'm blind. I know you guys know… I know you know that. But sometimes, it helps to say it. I'm blind."
The words sit in the open air like a weight, no one knows how to react to what she's said. But she's not finished.
"I'm blind, and it's bad. It's horrible, and I don't really know how to live with it. I'm not sure if I'll ever know. But also want to say that…" She takes a deep breath and lets her shoulders rise and fall. "I'm pregnant, too."
Everyone continues to stare, eyes cemented on her. I wonder if she can feel it. I know she's waiting for a response that no one is giving, so she prompts them once more.
"And… we're happy about it," she says, and a sunburst explodes in my chest. That's the first time she's said those words aloud, even to me. A smile blooms on her face, and everyone else matches the expression, too. I can't help my own grin - even Peyton giggles.
I mirror the statement, looking around the table and saying, "Really happy."
