29. April

29

APRIL

Is this how it feels to be treated like glass?

Ever since I came back from my dad's, it's like everyone I know made the unanimous decision to put me under surveillance: Grisha, Yuri, Petra, the damn hotel concierge. I'd suspect Matvey is behind it, except that June's doing it, too. And Corey, and Rob… Even Mr. Buttons isn't leaving me alone for a second. It's like they think they can't blow their noses without someone else picking up watch duty. Like they think I'll…

Break. Shatter. Be gone in the blink of an eye.

It's ridiculous. I'm a grown ass woman, not some puppy on a flier. I'm not going to rush out into traffic the minute someone leaves the door open, or follow some stranger home, or… whatever else they think I'll do. This isn't how these things happen. Surely it can't be that easy?

Disappearing from the world?

"I'm so sorry, April."

Petra's voice jolts me out of my thoughts. "What?"

"I said I have to go. Something came up with…" She shakes her head. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Are you sure?" Her expression looks so torn, I can't imagine it's nothing. "If you want to talk…"

"It's okay!" she answers, a little too quickly to be believable. "Seriously, it's fine. Just work drama. Don't stress yourself over it."

Don't stress yourself. Relax. Don't worry. If I had a quarter for every time I've heard these words in the past week, I'd be on my way to buying an island. "If you say so."

Petra plasters on a smile. It's cracking in a thousand different places, but I pretend I don't see it. Lately, it seems to be the polite thing to do—pretend the cracks aren't real. In others or in myself.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" she asks.

I return the same kind of smile: glass shot through with hairline fractures. "Sure."

Then I'm alone.

It's strange—ever since May was born, I never felt alone, not really. On my worst days at the motel, when Mrs. Tanner decided to drive me extra crazy and the phone wouldn't stop ringing for a second, all I had to do was walk back into my room. Back to her crib. I'd grab her little hand with two fingers, and sometimes, she'd squeeze back, giving me the strength to get through one more shift, one more day.

Now, I don't dare reach in.

It reminds me of the day I turned five. We went to Coney Island for my birthday, me and Maia, and I wandered off on my own to pet a dog I'd seen. I didn't ask the owner for permission like I'd been taught—I was too excited. The dog was small and fluffy, the kind that seemed incapable of harming anyone. But when I touched it, it snapped at me instantly.

I remember the sting of the bite, the irrational sense of betrayal. I remember thinking, Why would it do that?

Afterwards, I never tried to pet a dog again.

Maia tried to help me get over it. To explain what I'd done wrong, how to avoid having it happen again. One day, she invited a friend with a Maltese over for tea. I'd known that dog all my life, but I still cowered in my room, unable to touch it. When Maia insisted, I reluctantly put out my hand, but at the last possible second, I snatched it away again.

That's what it feels like now to pick up my daughter.

I hover at the edge of the crib like a ghost. May's staring at me, her big eyes all teary. She hasn't been crying outright, but it's like she's always at the brink of it.

I watch her reach for me. I don't reach back.

It's better if I don't reach back.

You're going to fuck it up. You're going to hurt her. You're going to ruin her.

Like you ruined everything else around you.

Without thinking, I step out for some air.

My friends… They all see me as a burden now. It's plain on their faces that they're terrified of leaving me alone. It's creating all sorts of trouble for them.

The other day, I made June late for a shift.

Today, I kept Petra from a work emergency.

Tomorrow, it might be Matvey who pays the price.

Matvey . I've spent so long waiting for him to forgive me, and now that he seems to be getting around to tolerating me again, I don't want it.

No—I don't deserve it.

Besides, it wouldn't last. He doesn't trust me. Without trust, there's nothing.

Certainly not love.

He was right, though, wasn't he? You took his daughter. You thought you could raise her better, but look at you now: you can't even touch her.

Some mom you're shaping up to be.

I put my hands on the railing. Mr. Buttons is rubbing insistently between my ankles, as if begging to be picked up. Show me what's out there. Show me what you see.

"I can't do that, silly," I laugh. "It's dangerous."

Then I climb over the railing.

It feels dreamlike. Maybe it is. Lately, it's been happening more and more: me falling asleep without realizing it, the real and the fake blurring behind my eyelids. If I was awake, I'd never do something like this, would I? I'm way too much of a coward for that.

I swing my feet and don't feel anything.

Right. A dream.

It's really pretty, the sight from here. I don't even think about what I'm doing—just that I want to see more of the city. More of the skyline and the night, of the lights and lit-up windows.

Glass. Like me.

When did I turn into that? Something dangerous and fragile that no one wants to touch? Something invisible ?

I wonder if Daphne realized what was happening to her when she began to transform. I wonder if, at the last possible second, she tried to stop it.

I wonder if it hurt.

"April. April. Get down from there."

I snort. "What happened to ‘hello'?"

"April, come back inside this instant." He's as bossy as ever, but his voice is unusually soft. Like he's scared of something.

For some reason, that makes me laugh. What could Matvey Groza possibly be scared of?

"Why? Afraid I'm gonna catch a chill?"

He'd raise her right. He'd raise May better than you could. A fearless father versus a coward mother. A more obvious choice, there has never been.

"That's not true," Matvey growls from somewhere behind me.

"What's not true?"

"You're not a coward."

Was I talking out loud? Ah, well. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn't. Dream logic and all. "I kind of am, though, aren't I?"

"April—"

"I ran," I cut him off, voice starting to crack. Like the glass I'm made of, this fragile thing I became. "I ran away from you. I could've faced you, but I ran. And I took your daughter."

"That's in the past," Matvey says.

"Is it?" I whisper. "Because you still haven't looked me in the eye."

Silence.

"I know why." I smile through the tears. It's kind of comforting—having all the answers at last. "It's because you hate me, isn't it? But you don't want to tell me that."

"That's not true."

"You're afraid I'll do something. To myself or to her."

"You'd never hurt her," he snarls. "Never."

"I already did. I took her from you."

"You brought her back."

"No. You did. And now, I'm just in the way."

"April, stop. Just?—"

"Even now, you won't look me in the eye!" I cry out. "Why is everyone acting like this? April, April— can you all just forget me already? I get it: I'm a burden. I'm stupid and pathetic and I can't even be trusted with my own daughter. I can't even be trusted as a partner. "

"Come inside. We'll talk about this, just—come inside. Please."

Please. In all his life, I doubt Matvey ever said that to anyone. More evidence that I'm dreaming this up.

But that's alright. If this is a dream, then at least I can be honest.

"I suppose you weren't all that wrong, though. You couldn't trust me. Even my father couldn't trust me."

"Your father is scum," Matvey spits back. "Don't listen to a word he said. He's not worth it."

"And I am?" I laugh bitterly. "I wasn't even worth an explanation when you got married. I wasn't even worth an apology. Tell me, what exactly am I worth?"

"EVERYTHING!"

I open my eyes. The skyline blinks back, a bit hazier than reality, a bit sharper than a dream.

I almost fall, but Matvey's voice anchors me. "You're worth everything. I'm the one who's not worthy of you."

It's a dream. It's all a dream.

"You're lying."

"I'm not. For once, I'm not lying to you."

Could my mind be any crueler? Conjuring up Matvey like this, making him say things he'd never say? Things I've been waiting all my life for someone to say to me?

"When you took—" A sharp inhale. "When you took her away, I was furious, yes. But I understand now why you did it."

"No!" I shake my head. "You shouldn't. I?—"

"Let me speak. Please."

Stunned, I obey.

"Back then, you weren't taking her away from a loving father—you were taking her away from your own fate. You've been treated as a second choice all your life, and then I treated you that way, too. You thought I'd do the same to her, didn't you? That's why you took her."

"And I was wrong! I should've talked to you."

"Yes," he admits, voice raw. "Yes, you should've talked to me. But I didn't make it easy, did I?"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does. If you thought I was a monster, it does. If you thought I'd be a monster to her? — "

"But you wouldn't have been!" I say. "You're a great dad, Matvey. I see it every day."

"And you're a great mom."

"Stop that. You said you wouldn't lie to me."

"I'm not."

"But you are! You?—"

"April!" he barks, but it's desperate. "You accused me of not listening to you once. You were right. But now, I want you to listen to me. I need you to listen to me."

Wordlessly, I nod.

"You made a choice," he rasps. "You made the only choice you thought you could make. You did what was best for your child. For our child. Even if it broke your heart to do it."

"How do you know that?" I murmur. "That it broke my heart?"

"Because it broke mine, too."

My breath hitches. The skyline blinks at me from afar, hazy one second and sharp the next, like a camera lens hunting for focus.

"You said there can't be love without trust," he presses on, taking a step towards the railing. "You're right. There can't be."

"So you never loved me?"

"No, April. I loved you from the start."

Please, don't let me wake up. If this is a dream, I don't want to wake up.

"From the second I saw you in that shop, I loved you. From the second I touched you the first time, kissed you the first time, I knew there would never be another."

I want it to be true. I want so bad for it to be true, it's killing me. "What about trust?"

"Trust doesn't come easy to me," he whispers. "When you have the kind of life I've had, you learn quickly that you can't trust anyone. You push fear out and harden your heart, but trust is the one thing that can still kill you. Trust is a weakness."

"That's why you didn't trust me?"

"No, April. That's why I refused to admit I already did."

Around the railing, my hands are shaking. "What?"

"I buried it," he confesses, one step closer to my turned back. "I didn't want to face it. But I did trust you, April. I trusted you more than anyone. And when the time came to choose between my blood and you… I got scared. Because I realized that, deep down, I'd already made my choice. So you're not the one who ran—I was. I ran away from the truth and from you. And I can never apologize enough for that."

This isn't real. This can't be real. "You chose me?"

"I will always choose you."

I try to blink away the tears, but it's useless. "You trust me?"

"I trust you."

"You love me?"

"I love you."

I can't stop shaking. I can't stop the tears from falling. I watch them drop into the void like rain and suddenly, it's like my body's paralyzed. Like every part of me is screaming, This is real.

"I understand if you don't want it," Matvey adds, sounding more pained than I've ever heard him. "If it's too little, too late, just tell me to go to hell. But right now, I need you to come down from there."

"Come down from…?"

It hits me all at once: where I am. What I'm doing. What I was about to do.

"Come back to me," Matvey rasps. "Come back to us. "

So I do.

I whirl around and see them : Matvey, May. My family. I reach for them.

And they reach back.

Matvey's hand seizes mine, his grip steel. Without a second's thought, he yanks me back from the railing, making me topple in his arms. May's little hands start searching for me immediately, gripping my clothes like they're never going to let go.

God. What did I almost do? "I'm—" I gasp. "I'm so sorry, Matvey, I didn't— I wasn't myself, I wasn't thinking; I?—"

"Shh," he croons into my ear. "It's okay. You're safe now."

"I didn't want to do it," I cry helplessly. "I wouldn't— I'd never? — "

I can feel his entire body tremble against mine. Is it rage? Fear? Passion? Somehow, it feels like all three at once. "Promise me, then. Never again."

I nod into the crook of his neck. "Never again."

Slowly, I let myself take it all in: the warmth of Matvey's arms, the soft cooing of my baby between us. What I almost lost for good.

Safe.

For the first time in months, it feels like the truth.