Chapter One
The lotus is seen as a symbol of rebirth and resilience. This flower is the perfect analogy for the human condition, because even when its roots are in the dirtiest waters, from the mud, something beautiful blooms.
The frigid wind bit through my thick coat, my teeth chattering as I stepped off the train. I hadn’t been back home for long and despite the gnawing anxiety that prickled in the back of my mind, fanning out into my tense shoulders, I was glad to be back. As I stepped onto the platform, I readjusted the bags of groceries, grateful that I had chosen an apartment close to the station, and that the station was one stop away from my favorite grocery store. I learned to cook and found I really enjoyed doing so. I kept my head down as I made the short walk home, the rustling of plastic bags keeping my mind focused on anything other than the thoughts that tried to hold my attention.
Counting my footsteps kept me occupied.
28, 29, 30. Only 30 more to go.
Sometimes, I walked faster, blending in with the pace of the crowd. Some days I moved slowly, savoring the familiar scents of home and longing to see just one old friend. But how could I? No one would want to see me. Not after what I did. Not after I left them to pick up the pieces alone.
53, 54,55.
Once my complex came into view, my footsteps quickened. Using my left hip, I pushed open the large doors that led into the foyer and debated on taking the stairs or the elevator. The elevator would afford me some quiet time with my thoughts—thoughts I needed to process—but the stairs? I could count those and pretend that everything made sense because they ended on an even number and when things were even, I breathed a little easier. I decided to climb the stairs, relishing in the slight burn in my thighs once he reached the fifth-floor landing. I shifted all the plastic bags to one hand, reaching into my coat pocket for my house keys, my fingers brushing against the envelope and small toy I always carried. I turned the corner, feeling the slightest bit of hope that, maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
I picked up the scent immediately. The fragrance always made me feel as if I were seconds away from falling asleep or like I was tucked in my nest with the small baby doll I cuddled at night, singing lullabies to when things became too hard to deal with. Lavender permeated my senses, causing my feet to still and my hands to open in shock. The groceries fell to the floor, a yellow onion rolling forward.
Tiny hands with dimples where the knuckles would later be prominent, gripped the onion, and held it up, offering it to the man standing beside her. “Da?”
How old is she now? I-I know this. She’s my-my…
He knelt in front of the baby that looked too much like him and kissed her forehead before cheerfully responding, “Thank you, Blossom.” She giggled and made grabby hands while demanding, “up, up, up”, and he obliged, scooping her up in his arms and nuzzling the top of her head.
Without looking at me, Gabriel asked, “How long are you just going to stand there without saying anything, Kairi?”
Swallowing thickly, I exhaled a shaky breath and softly replied, “Ho-how did you…?”
Gabriel sighed and ran his hand over his waves, scratching at his low-cut waves. “You weren’t exactly careful. Dox saw you boarding the train multiple times. Then Bry saw you at the store. They put two and two together and here we are.”
Since when did he call them by their nicknames?
“Oh.”
“I thought you’d want to see her. Since the last time you did, she was—,” Gabriel paused, hurt clouding his sleep deprived, brown eyes. He blinked the emotion away quickly, changing the subject. “We’ll leave. Sorry to have bothered you.”
Gabriel stepped around me, giving me a wide berth, and for the first time in a year, I was able to take a good look at my baby. Big brown eyes regarded me with wariness before she buried her face in her dad’s neck. When she lifted her round face to yawn, I counted eight teeth and noticed the little dimple by the corner of her mouth. Her reddish-brown curls were kept out of her face by a white headband that was embroidered with little lemons. She was absolutely perfect, her yellow raincoat complimenting her warm brown skin and reminding me of the bear from one of the books I used to read aloud while I was pregnant.
“Can-can I…” Instinctively, I reached for her, wanting to cradle her against my body and breathe in her scent. At birth, she smelled faintly of both of us: citrus and lavender. I wondered, for over a year, if her scent had changed, who she’d end up looking like, and whose personality traits she’d have. Gabriel stilled and I caught the bitter aroma of resentment, his lavender scent burning my nose with each inhale. I lowered my hands, apologizing under my breath, and bent down to pick up my discarded groceries. Tears burned my lower lash line, blurring my vision and turning the pristine foyer into a distorted white and cream mess. Upon hearing the tip-tap of little feet moving towards me, I quickly wiped my eyes, struggling to clear my vision with every pass of my trembling hands. This would more than likely be the last time I saw her, and I wanted to commit every inch of her sweet face to my memory.
She held out the onion and I reached for it, my voice cracking as I accepted the vegetable. “Thank you, sweetie.”
She looked up at me and smiled brightly. “Denchu!”
“No, no Blossom, you’re supposed to say, ‘you’re welcome!’ Remember? Uncle Dox taught you this already. You’re…” Gabriel trailed off waiting Blossom blinked up at him, silent. He tried again, “You’re…”
“Denchu!” She clapped her hands together and flashed a drooly grin up at a chuckling Gabriel.
“I-I have something for her if that’s okay?”
He checked his watch and nodded. “Yeah. I don’t have a client until 2pm. And Maddox and Bryson are about thirty minutes from the studio.”
My key scraped against the door, slipping several times before Gabriel sighed and pulled it from my grip, shoving it into the lock. “Thank you,” I muttered. I shrugged out of my coat and dropped the groceries in the kitchen. I turned to face him, quietly studying his face. He was always great about hiding the depth of his feelings, but every so often, they’d find the tiniest crack to bleed through. His eyes were dark with trepidation, his scent, thankfully, dampened enough to be indistinguishable from the familiar smells of my home. He held our daughter on his hip, standing awkwardly by the front door as if coming any closer would be dangerous. “You can come in and sit for a—”
“I don’t have the time nor energy to do this today, Kairi. Give me the gift and we’ll be on our way.”
Nodding jerkily, I agreed. “Yeah, sure.” I dug in my coat pocket and pulled out a small teddy bear. My intention was to hold onto the letter. I wanted to give it to him and, truthfully, I’d been working up the courage to drop it in the mail. However, I grabbed the envelope, pushing it into his chest.
“What is this?” Gabriel eyed the envelope, holding it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.
“Please”—I hung my head, staring at my feet—“read it before you throw it away, okay? I-I tried to mail it to you so many times over the year but…”
Gabriel acquiesced, grunting out, “Fine.”
“Thank you.”
“What do you say when someone gives you something, hmm?” He tickled Blossom and her laughter, despite being the sweetest sound in the world, made my heart break.
“Welcome!”
He slapped a hand to his forehead and shook his head, snickering. “At least you’re polite.”
“Can I hold her? Please?” I asked softly.
Gabriel looked at me for the first time in our short interaction. “Why should you get to hold her now?” Hurt sharpened his tone as he struggled, and failed, to keep a tight hold on his scent. Anguish mingled with the lavender, the floral scent seeping forward and triggering a mild bout of nausea.
“You brought her here. I just thought…”
“I can’t trust you.” Gabriel took a step back, his hold tightening around our child.
“I’m not asking you to. I’m asking you if I can hold my daughter for the first time in—,” I hedged, swallowing thickly. Emotion clogged my throat as I faltered to admit the truth, the shame warming my face.
“Say it. For the first time in how long, Kairi?” His voice was soft, but his tone hardened.
My multicolored socks blurred, the colors becoming difficult to decipher. “For the first time in a year.”
“She’s fourteen months. That means you left when she was how old?”
“Do we have to do this? In front of her?”
“You left when she was how old?” Resentment clogged the small entrance, choking me. Blossom’s nose crinkled and she buried her face in Gabriel’s shoulder. His scent changed to one that was milder, calming, and he soothed her, rubbing her back and humming softly. “I’ve got to go.”
I watched as he pulled open the door. Blossom lifted her head and curled her fingers closed, waving goodbye. “B! B!”
As the door swung shut, I heard Gabriel praise her, “Good job, my little petal! Can’t wait to tell your uncles that you’re two letters away from saying a new word!”
I clutched at my chest, gasping for air as sobs wracked my body.
Nest. Need my nest.
I barely made it to my room before I broke completely. Loud cries echoed around me as I crawled into my safe space. Burrowing under the mountain of blankets and pillows, I pushed aside the poor imitation of a baby and curled up into a ball. I just wanted to hold my little girl. I longed to feel her weight in my arms and her warmth against my skin. Instead, I buried my face in a pillow and cried harder than I had in months.
