Vanessa knew what she meant. Her mom had borne witness to the late-night visits, the cuts and bruises that she had stopped trying to explain. It was a small town, hard to hide secrets; she wore makeup, but people knew. She was sure of it. They treated her differently, like she was damaged goods.
Wasn’t she? Hadn’t she always been?
Vanessa was basically dead inside, except when she was with Wren. A smile from him could make her day. A laugh like golden sunshine warming her face. What if her mom was right? What if it was better to fix the problem before Mark even knew about it?
In the end, Vanessa decided that she couldn’t just get rid of it, so she told Mark.
‘What the fuck do you mean you’re pregnant? How did this happen?’ Conveniently forgetting his part in her pregnancies seemed to be his go-to.
‘You should know. You asked me the same thing when I fell pregnant with Wren. You know exactly how it happened.’
‘You did this deliberately,’ he accused, his fists bunched at his sides.
She couldn’t believe that he was blaming her again. He’d forced himself on her. What did he think might happen?
‘You think I want another child with you?’ she said quietly, her voice pitched low, almost talking to herself.
He backhanded her.
‘Christ, Mark! Just stop it!’
He grabbed her by the front of her top, yanking her close to him, so close that his beer breath flowed over her face. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do. Ever.’
She thought he was going to hit her again, but instead he pushed her away and stormed out the back door and into the shed where she heard him banging around.
Two babies. She sighed and gently touched her stomach, making a promise to this baby that she’d protect him or her as much as she could, including against their dad.
Vanessa was at the grocery store with Wren when someone spoke behind her.
‘So, this is the little bastard.’
Vanessa turned, an unhappy and squirming one-year-old Wren draped over her shoulder and a red plastic basket looped over the other arm. Maggie was standing in front of her looking perfectly made up and tanned next to Vanessa’s scraggly, unkept and pale appearance. Vanessa hadn’t bothered to cover up the dark rings around her haunted eyes and the fading bruise visible across one cheek. She was wearing yesterday’s clothes.
‘Maggie,’ she said softly, taking her in. ‘You look good.’ And she really meant it.
‘Yeah, well, you look like shit.’ Maggie had always been honest with her.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered, a ghost of a smile on her face. She hefted Wren in her arms, juggling the basket, one corner poking in painfully under her breast. He thrashed his head around until his eyes eventually settled on Maggie. ‘I made my bed, Maggie. I hurt you and I’m taking responsibility for that, but you don’t get to call my son names.’ There was steel in her voice as she defended her baby.
‘I’m sorry. He just looks like you both… you and Mark.’ Maggie inspected Vanessa’s face carefully. It was clear she had noted the bruise. ‘Are you OK?’
Vanessa moved her hair over her cheek. ‘Why do you care?’
‘I don’t, I guess. I’ve just heard rumors, and it looks like they might be true.’
‘Yeah, well, I walked into a cupboard door, nothing more.’
They both knew it was a lie that dropped from her lips. It hung in the air.
‘You hate me,’ Vanessa blurted out, not sure why she even talking to Maggie.
Maggie considered her next words. ‘Yeah, I guess a little, but I’ll always worry about you.’
‘I’m pregnant.’ Vanessa had no idea why she told her; there was no reason to.
Maggie’s eyes narrowed. ‘You always did know how to hurt me,’ she choked out before turning and walking off. Vanessa wanted to call out after her. To apologize. To tell her what happened. But what was the point? It was over with Maggie. She was lost to her. Again.
Vanessa stared after her for a long time, lost in the past. Eventually she came back to the present, Wren wriggling in her arms. She popped him down on his feet and hung onto his little hand. He looked up at her, trusting, a wide grin on his face. She stared at him. Yes, he did look like Mark, but as he grew older, he favored her a little more. A year of beatings, no apologies on his part and silence on hers. People knew what went on inside their home, yet nobody did anything. Mark had always been popular, charming everyone with his good looks and quick tongue. Working at the bar, he got to know the locals even more. He was one of them; she was just a slut who got what she deserved. Small towns had long memories. Her mom pushed her gently to leave him and come home without actually coming out and saying it. She was supportive, and the offer was tempting, but Vanessa felt like this was her punishment for what she did to Maggie. The only bright spot in her life was Wren, and, soon, this new baby.
The night their second child was born, Mark was at work, pulling the late shift. Typically, on nights like those, he finished around two in the morning. But no matter what time he came home, he was always drunk and angry. Vanessa went into labor while she was feeding Wren. He was happily munching on his tea when she felt a contraction and the warm rush of her water breaking.
‘Shit.’ She went to get the mop and cleaned the floor before changing and ringing her mom to let her know. Her dad answered. ‘Is Mom there?’ she asked coldly, no hello, no how are you. She was sticking to her guns, even under these circumstances. It had been a year since she had spoken to him properly. She could admit that she missed him, missed being close with him, but she wouldn’t back down.
‘Ness. Are you OK?’ He must have heard the fear in her voice and the concern in his was almost her undoing.
She stayed silent. Eventually he sighed. ‘I’ll go get her.’
‘Is it time?’ Her mom asked breathlessly as she came to the phone.
‘Yeah. I’m scared, Mom.’
‘I’ll be right there.’ Vanessa hung up the phone and hobbled to get her hospital bag, putting it by the front door, fighting another contraction as she did. She pulled Wren from his highchair and cleaned him up, another contraction rocking her body. She couldn’t help but cry out. Wren, in her arms, turned at the sound. He stared at her, then laid one little chubby hand against her cheek. She was touched by the kindness of her son’s innocent gesture.
‘Thanks, my beautiful boy,’ she whispered, kissing his forehead before putting him down. She rang the bar and Mark answered.
‘Mark, it’s me.’
‘Vanessa?’
Who else would ‘me’ be?
‘Yeah, it’s Vanessa. I’ve just gone into labor so I’ll meet you at the hospital. I’m leaving in about five minutes when Mom gets here.’ She felt another contraction building and gripped the phone, trying to breathe through it.
‘Can’t leave, gotta close up,’ he said casually, as if he wasn’t about to become a dad again.
She couldn’t think. ‘I’m having a bloody baby, Mark. You need to be there.’
‘And not one of these guys paying my wages gives a shit that you’re having a fucking baby,’ he hissed into the phone. ‘They only care where their next drink is coming from and that’s me.’ He hung up on her. He fucking hung up on her!