Not an Owl

"Oh, God, make it stop. I can't do this," I pant, desperate for relief as an unbearable pressure builds deep inside me.

Vanessa leans over and places a cool washcloth on my forehead. My hand grips hers like a vice, but she doesn't even flinch.

"You've got this, Ry-Ry."

I don't believe I've earned that confidence from my cousin. Vanessa's eyes reveal her doubt, but I appreciate her effort. She is the only person I have left in the world, at least for a bit longer, and I desperately eat up any crumb of support she tosses my way.

"Go ahead and give me another push, Riley," the nurse says.

I bite back on my urge to tell her to fuck off and do as I'm told.

***

Later, the strange new creature I call son is suckling at my left breast. I try not to think about how much he looks like his father—the same nose. I can tell Vanessa notices, but she doesn't comment. We sit in silence. I'm exhausted, wrung out like a used dishrag.

My eyes are just beginning to drift shut when Vanessa's phone rings. The baby-- still nameless-- and I both startle. His newborn wail is soft and sweet in contrast to the jarring phone ring. Vanessa stares at the phone screen. I know it must be Hailey. My heart clenches. She points to the door, and I nod as she steps out to take the call.

I busy myself calming the baby. He nurses some more and falls asleep. Twenty minutes pass, and Vanessa doesn't return. I want to put the baby in the bassinet and use the bathroom, but I'm hoping for her help. I wait another ten minutes before giving up. I guess I'm on my own again.

I manage to settle him into the bassinet and then hobble to the bathroom. I took the classes and read the books, and still, I am unprepared for my post-birth body. The blood. The pain. The emptiness. I find myself morning the loss of my baby, even though he is lying in the bassinet ten feet away.

When I have finished in the bathroom, I pull the bassinet close to the bed and settle back, hoping to nap. I pray that the baby will sleep for a while. I try and fail not to think about Hailey. Or Vanessa. Or him. I fail. Suddenly, I cannot sleep. I pick up my phone.

There is a text from Vanessa.

I'm sorry I left so quickly. H needs me. It's time.

I sigh. Hailey does not need Vanessa; she has Derek. And his family. And the friends we used to share. My eyes burn, and I blink back tears. If I allow myself to cry, I don't think I will ever stop.

***

Our babies are born just hours apart.

I only know because Vanessa texted me. No one else would. Vanessa is my last tenuous connection to my sister. Vanessa, who I'm sure I will also lose now that I have the baby. She did what she could-- helping me through the most challenging bits of my pregnancy. She felt sorry for me because I was alone. But she judged me the same as everyone else. I can feel the blame pouring off her anytime we edge close to unspeakable subjects. And now I'm no longer alone. I have the baby. I suspect Vanessa will fade away, like everyone else. Every time we speak, I wonder if it will be the last.

Hailey and I being pregnant together is something I always dreamed of as a kid. The plan was to have neighboring houses and raise our kids to be best friends, like us.

And here we are. So close. But so far off track. Our babies might as well be on separate planets. Two sweet baby boys. Brothers. Cousins. They will most likely never know each other.

It's all Derek's fault. But Hailey won't hear a word against him. No one will. So, here I am. Alone.

***

It happened the night of our mother's funeral. She died unexpectedly in a car accident at 46 years old. Hailey and I were devastated and did not handle it well.

We got through the funeral with copious amounts of alcohol. After the reception, Derek drove us home. Vanessa went back to her own apartment, even though we wanted her to come with us.

I wanted to drink more, but Hailey was done. She told us to have fun and went to bed. I should have done the same. But Derek and I stayed up and did tequila shots. Since he was our designated driver, he started out sober, while I was already wasted.

I can hardly remember anything. If I close my eyes and try, all I get is flashes. A whiff of his cologne—Cool Water. The feel of his five o'clock shadow against my neck. The solid weight of him above me.

The following day I woke up in my bed, completely nude with the unfamiliar weight of Derek's arm thrown over my torso. That's how Hailey found us.

Derek told her I seduced him. I'm not sure if she actually believed him, but she chose him. And everyone else chose her.

Derek and Hailey were childhood sweethearts. He was like a big brother to me. I never thought he could hurt me like this.

***

The day after the births, I text Vanessa.

Hey, V. I hope we will see you today.

I attach a picture of the baby, swaddled in his bassinet, peaceful in his sleep.

The baby. He really needs a name. When I look at him, all I see is Derek. I need to push past that. I study his tiny features intently. He indeed resembles Derek. That nose. But he also looks like Hailey. Which I guess means he must look like me. He has our chin. Mom's chin.

Mom.

Julia.

She wasn't a saint. Hailey and I were definitely lacking affection. But she was awe-inspiring in a lot of ways. A single mother who managed to raise two little girls and build a successful business with no help. And then, her sister died, and she took in Vanessa.

Julia.

Julian?

I try it out.

"Hi Julian, mommy loves you," I coo.

For the first time since my mom died, I find myself smiling.

***

Vanessa doesn't respond to my text. I try not to lose it, but I don't have anyone. I was always the tag-a-long sister. Every one of my friends was Hailey's friend first. And, Vanessa, being closer to Hailey's age, was always just a little closer to her than me. We have no other family. It was just the four of us, now the three of us.

I look down at Julian and remind myself that I'm not alone. I have him. And he has me. Heart and soul. I will be strong for him.

***

When the doctor tries to discharge me, I beg for an extra night. She gives in, reluctantly, with a troubled look in her eye.

Later that day, a social worker visits me.

"How are you feeling, Mrs.-"

"Ms." I correct her.

"Oh," She blinks at me. "I'm sorry. How are you feeling, Ms. Williams?"

I shrug. "Tired and sore, but I'm OK."

"Well, Dr. Banks tells me you are afraid to go home. That's very concerning. Do you feel unsafe at home?"

I laugh. I can't help it.

"Excuse me," she says, "what is so funny?"

"Nothing," I mutter, "I'm not afraid. There's no one to be afraid of. It's just me. Us. Just us." I nod down at Julian.

She looks at me shrewdly. "Are you afraid to be alone with Julian?"

My cheeks flush with shame. I straighten my shoulders and push up my chin, something I saw my mother do many times.

"No." I say, "I can handle it."

***

I can't handle it.

We have been at home for two weeks. Just the two of us.

Julian will not stop crying, and I am beside myself. He won't latch anymore. I have no idea what to do. I feel so disconnected. A miserable change from the closeness I felt to him while he was in my womb. I long to reabsorb him and coexist as we did before.

I call a lactation consultant. She offers me some tips and tells me to hang in there. I want to scream at her.

On Facebook, I find a local group for new mothers. I look at the member list. Of course. Hailey beat me to it.

I leave the group and join a different one. These moms aren't local, but at least I can talk to other moms. I hit it off immediately with another single mom named Phoebe. Too bad she's n Chicago, and I'm in New Hampshire. Still, it's nice to have a friend.

***

We somehow make it through the first three months. I am hanging on by a thread, but I have my online mom friends. Phoebe and I have grown close, and Julian is thriving. Things could be worse.

It is a Thursday in April. The first beautiful spring day of the year. We have spent too much of our time confined to the four walls of my apartment. An outing is in order.

I take him to the local zoo. Growing up, we had a membership to this zoo-- one of our only luxuries. Mom would bring us here after school or on Saturday mornings. We would spend our time looking at the animals or playing on the large play structure.

I push Julian's stroller through the same winding lanes we wandered as children. I find my way to the barn owl exhibit without even thinking about it. I sit on a bench in front of the enclosure. It takes me a minute to spot her. Lucy, the large barn owl, is barely visible, tucked into the hollow of a tree, asleep.

Mom was captivated by owls. She would sit with us on this bench and talk to us for what felt like hours about owls.

Mom was like an owl. Fierce and independent. I have tried so hard to be like her. But there's a problem, humans aren't like owls. Owls are solitary creatures. They send their young off when they are only two months old. I look down at Julian and frown. I never want him to leave me.

I am not an owl. I need people, a village. Without one, I'm floundering.

***

The phone is slippery in my hand. I put it down on the table and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. Calm down. It's just a phone call.

My fingers tremble as I pull up Hailey in my contacts list. I don't know what to expect. We haven't spoken since I broke the news about my pregnancy. She asked me to terminate it, and I refused. That's when I really lost her.

But I have to try. One last time. Extend the olive branch, so to speak. If Hailey bats it away, then I know. Julian and I can truly move on. I glance at the Chicago real estate page on my computer.

I lose track of the number of rings; I'm sure I am heading for the voicemail when she finally answers.

"What?" Her voice is steely.

My stomach does a backflip.

"Hailey, can we get together and-"

"I have nothing to say to you." She cuts me off.

This is not going well.

"Plea-"

She stops me again. "No. I mean it, Riley. I gave you a chance to make it right, and you wouldn't."

"If you would just meet with me, meet your nephew," I plead.

"I can't," she says, "it's too messed up."

"I know," I choke down a sob, "But he's beautiful. He looks like mom. I named him after her, you know? Julian."

Her voice cracks. "I'm sorry, but I can't."

I think I can actually hear my heart crack in my chest.

"OK." I say, "Just know, I will always love you. And, for what it's worth, I'm sorry it turned out like this."

"Me too." Her voice is small now.

"I'm going to leave," I tell her. "Start over somewhere new."

"Wha-" She starts and stops. "Maybe that's for the best."

"Bye, sis," I whisper and hang up.