The driver of Ida's vehicle was eerily silent. I tried to read him, tried to ensure that he knew what my intentions were and that he was in full consent with my decision. His soft, rounded features were barely visible beneath a thick, brown beard -- it hardly hid his sympathy.
I wonder how many times that he has done this?
The unspoken agreement tugged at the strings of my heart as I leaned forward.
"You will be unable to return after this." I whispered.
"Yes."
"Are you okay with this? I will return with you if I must, I do not want to hurt anyone with my decision," I wanted to clarify this.
"Except yourself and the child that you bear, ma'am."
I flinched. I was not sure if this was true, but I surely had not admitted the possibility to myself until this moment. Indeed, I was quite late, but how would he have known this personal fact?
"How did you know?"
"One hand has not left the site of your womb since I arrived. I will find new employment in Milwaukee, but you are unable to find a new marriage. Please do not worry."
I leaned back into the seat and sunk my teeth into my bottom lip. Once the familiar taste of iron filled my mouth, I decided that I was sure of my decision.
If I was truly with child, I would not subject her to the life that I was given. Visions swirled through my head in milky images - a small girl with dark brown hair and a matching set of eyes reading a familiar novel, so vague that it felt like a taunt. I wanted so dearly to be able to feel happiness again, to rid myself of these exhausting emotions.
The velveteen bruises flared as I shifted, a harsh reminder that the emotions would never cease despite a successful escape. I could almost taste victory, but I would be unable to provide my daughter with a proper father or an upbringing of privilege. Was I making the wrong decision?
My chest tightened as I remembered him. Anger seeped into my system, creating a slow burn that caused my blood to boil and my skin to burst at the seams. It had been exactly 10 years since I had held his gaze - his attention. What life would I have been able to provide for my daughter had it been him that I ended with? I certainly would not be able to feel the broken veins against my bones right now had this been my future. I certainly would not be running.
I clenched my teeth and turned my attention elsewhere. Reality was dismembering and agonizing, there was nothing that I needed more than to sink into a disconnected state. Despite the flames of this necessity, I forced myself to plan a life of adoration for the small infant that would soon arrive.
"What do you mean that he's here?"
My body had felt as though it was made of lead, each movement took too much energy.
"I saw him at the market, Esme. He's here and he's asking around for you."
Tears coated my burning cheeks as I reminisced on my second escape. He was the reason that I was alone, tangled in white sheets with a thick cover of sweat covering every inch of my skin.
My body ached for the freezing touch of him. Birth was cruel, merciless, and savage. I could not imagine why new life must come from the licks of flames, though the agony was usually shared. In the flicking lights of an Ashland hospital, I was ripped apart in fervent pieces that were gently laid back together with the scream of an infant.
Though I was not expecting a son, I was determined to keep the same promise to him as I had made the day that I fled. He would not be his father, he would be raised with love, compassion, and understanding. He would not need to go to war for empathy and live a life of punishment for emotions. Though his father would not present, the lessons of his sire would be engraved in his core.
I brushed my thumb against his dark curls, every fleeting moment of doubt melting away. A perfect cherub with rosy cheeks and milky skin. I calculated the distance that you must have traveled, Joseph, from womb to world.