One More Step

TW- Death, drug abuse, child neglect, depression

Leanna opened the refrigerator and took out eggs and butter. She sat them on the counter and turned on the stove. She moved slowly and mechanically, going through the motions. It was breakfast time, and Lily would be up soon asking for food. Lily was only three, and her routine stayed the same regardless of what was happening around her. Leanna envied her daughter at times. Envied the simplicity of her world, the brightness, the ignorance. She buttered the pan and cracked the eggs in it. The kitchen was painted a cheerful yellow and white. The dishes were washed and put up, the curtains open and sun shining through. If only they were shut. She wanted to lay in the darkness and feel nothing and do nothing but-

“Mommy!” 

Leanna turned around and smiled. Lily ran to her and hugged her legs, dressed in her duck pajamas and carrying her stuffed bunny. 

“I’m hungry,” Lily mumbled.

Leanna ruffled her hair. “I know. Eggs are almost ready, go ahead and sit down. I’ll bring you some milk.”

“I want my pink cup!”

“Of course! In your pink cup.”

Lily sat at the table and Leanna went through the motions of pouring her milk and serving her breakfast. Toddler happy, Leanna turned on the faucet and scrubbed at her skillet.

“Can I go to Granny’s today?” Lily asked, mouth full. 

Leanna’s breath caught. She cleared her throat. 

“Baby, Granny isn’t here anymore. We went over this, didn’t we?”

“I want to go to Granny’s house!” Lily exclaimed, slamming her fork on the table. The shrillness of her voice grated on her mother’s already frayed nerves.

Leanna slammed the pan down and turned towards her. “Hey! That’s enough. If you’re going to throw a fit, you can go straight to time-out!” 

Lily started screeching and the screech turned into a cry. “I want Granny!” she screamed, kicking her legs against the table. 

Leanna’s heart was pounding in her ears and the more Lily screeched and cried, the higher her blood pressure got. They’d been over this and it wasn’t sinking in and she didn’t know how to get it through to her. This was their new daily routine. “That’s it, go to your room! You are not going to sit in here and throw a fit, I won’t hear it! Do not come out until I get you!” Her voice was harsher than she intended. 

Lily cried louder and gripped her bunny close, staring at her mother with wide teary eyes then she jumped from her chair and ran to her room wailing the whole way, slamming the door behind her. Her crying was still filling the house, but it was muffled now and not so sharp. 

Leanna gripped her hair and leaned against a wall, sliding down to the floor. She took a deep breath, in and out. It wasn’t helping. Tears pricked her eyes. She was a horrible mother. Lily was suffering too. She didn’t mean to be so short, so snappy, but she was so very drained. Her cries mixed with Lily’s in the bright yellow house. How could such a cheerful house hold such sorrow? She didn’t want to feel anymore, but she had to stay strong. Strong for her daughter. The only way to do that was not to feel. Not to think. 

She walked numbly to the bedroom and rifled through her sock drawer. She grasped a bottle of pills and stared at them. It was an old bottle she’d kept for emergencies, though she was supposed to have flushed them all years ago. Ever since her mother had passed two months ago, she’d been sneaking one here and there. The bottle was low, but they never failed to make her problems disappear for a while. She bit her lip and debated taking it. Already this morning she’d taken one, but it wasn’t enough. This would make her a better mom to be around, she told herself, swallowing two with no drink, desperate to feel the effects. 

She laid back on her bed and felt her heart rate slow down. The urge to cry and scream faded. She felt comfortably numb and fell asleep, falling into the darkness and dreaming of nothing.

Someone shaking her shoulder woke her up. She blearily opened her eyes to her husband standing in front of her, dressed in his uniform. He was frowning at her. 

“What are you doing home?” she asked him. “Did they cut your hours again this week?”

“How long has Lily been in her room?” he asked sharply. 

Leanna blinked. “I don’t know, thirty minutes or so? I know I should’ve checked on her sooner, but she was really acting up again and I needed a break to collect myself.”

“Leanna. She wet herself. Said you told her not to leave her room.”

Her eyes widened and she sat straight up in the bed. “Darien, that must’ve just happened. You know I wouldn’t leave her unattended long.” She threw her legs over the side of the bed to stand, anxious to get to Lily, but Darien caught her arm. 

“I’ve been home an hour.” 

Leanna’s heart dropped. She glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 4 o’clock. No, no, no. Impossible. Six hours had passed. “Let me go,” she whispered. “I need to check on her, clean her up. Apologize.” 

“She’s not here. I asked Stacy to watch her.”

Leanna ripped her arm away. “Well, there was no need for a babysitter.” She chuckled nervously and her face flushed with shame. “Let’s go get her now. I’m up.” 

Darien sat on the bed beside her and grabbed her chin. He turned her head gently towards him and searched her eyes, though his own face was unreadable. “I’m worried about you.” 

She pulled away. “I’m fine. I was just tired and I lost track of time. It won’t happen again.”

“You’re not fine and it can’t happen again. I think Stacy should start coming over every day. She wouldn’t mind the extra money and you could use the help.”

“We don’t need Stacy. You just don’t trust me,” Leanna ground out. 

Darien laughed incredulously. “Trust you? You left our daughter unsupervised for God knows how long. Do you realize how much could have gone wrong? She could’ve rifled through the fridge to get her own snack. She could’ve choked, and you wouldn’t know. She could’ve ran the bath and drowned. She could’ve walked out the door. She could’ve done any number of things, while you laid in here wallowing in self-pity.” His voice rose with each scenario he listed.

“Self-pity?” Leanna hissed. “How dare you? How dare you? You have no idea what I’m dealing with.”

“You know what I hear, Leanna? Me, me, me, me.” He leaned in close to her. “I get that you’re hurting. I’ve tried to be supportive and understanding of that. But Lily is hurting too. Lily lost her grandmother too.” He ran his fingers through his hair and looked up at the ceiling. “Shit, I’m hurting. The difference is, I can be strong for you. But Lily can’t. She has no idea why Mommy is always sleeping, why Mommy is so angry with her, why Mommy doesn’t play anymore.” The anger drained from him, and his shoulders dropped. The bags under his eyes suddenly seemed much darker. “I don’t expect you to keep the house tidy, I don’t expect you to be cheerful and chipper. But you have to pull yourself together for Lily.” He started walking away and paused at the door, hand hovering over the doorknob. Without looking back said, “It’s more than not trusting you. I don’t recognize you.” He walked out and shut the door. 

Leanna sat alone in their room. Her eyes wandered towards her sock drawer. The sweet call of numbness beckoned her. The pills kept her functioning. They kept her going. She walked over to her sock drawer and held the pill bottle in her hands. She popped the lid off and poured a pill into an open palm, but she couldn’t bring herself to bring it to her mouth. I don’t recognize you, Darien told her. She didn’t recognize herself. She threw the pills back in the drawer and whirled around. Clothes littered the bedroom floor. Leanna picked through them until she found a jacket and her shoes. She sighed as her eyes scanned the chaos around her. A drive would do her good. 

She found her keys and left the house. Darien’s car was gone, to her relief. The car purred to life as she turned the keys. She started driving, with no particular destination in mind, letting the road take her where it will, letting herself drive on muscle memory. Cars hummed by her and scenery blurred past. Leanna replayed the days events over in her mind. Where was the woman who took pride in her home? Where was the woman who found joy in her daughter? Where was the woman who spent her evenings with a book and some tea, cuddled up with her husband? That woman had a mother. A mother who could calm the storms of her emotions. Who was she now? 

Glendale Cemetery. The tires rolled past the sign and past the gate. Leanna parked and got out slowly. The autumn wind was crisp and cool, and she breathed it in greedily. Rows and rows of headstones filled the grassy field before her. Flowers were placed here and there, on the graves often visited. Leanna weaved past the headstones and flowers. Her feet knew the way after countless visits. Suddenly she stopped and knelt down. Tricia Jones. Her fingers traced over the letters.

“Oh, Mama, what am I doing?” she whispered. “I need you to set me straight.” 

She sat and rested her chin on her knees, hugging them close. A small purple flower caught her eye, growing alone among the grass. She picked it, laughing bitterly. The laughs turned to sobs. Her heart beat with a heaviness like a brick laid on her. The sun shone down on her. Clouds kept rolling lazily by. The sky didn’t care about her grief. She sniffled and twisted the purple flower between her fingers. “Thank you.” A breeze ruffled her hair. 

She sat with her mother in a stark white hospital room. Her mother laid in the bed, wires coming from both arms. She was skinny and frail; it looked as if a poke would break her. A small purple flower was tucked behind her ear, the only color on her pale body. It was the only taste of outdoors she could have anymore. Leanna held her mother’s hand softly, fighting back tears. Her mother was smiling reassuringly and squeezed the hand she was holding.

“Have courage and be brave, my darling, all will be well.” 

“How? I’m not brave like you, Mama. I’m scared. I don’t know what to do without you.”

“Not brave? Oh, baby. Bravery isn’t all about grand gestures and running into burning buildings. Bravery doesn’t mean you never fear, never break. Bravery is choosing to do the next right thing, no matter how difficult it may be or how scared you are- doing it in spite of the fear. Bravery is picking yourself back up when you fall down. Bravery is taking one more step when you feel the weakest.” Her mother leaned forward with the little strength she had and wiped the tears from Leanna’s face. “Do you hear me? I say again, have courage and be brave, my strong, beautiful daughter. Keep walking forward, one step at a time.”

Leanna lifted her face to the sky and closed her eyes, letting the wind howl in her ears and dry her face. “The next right thing,” she whispered and gently placed the purple flower by her mother’s name.

Darien’s car was in the drive when she arrived home. The thought of facing him sent her stomach in knots. “This is the right thing,” she whispered to herself. She got out of the car and went inside. 

The smell of food filled the house. In the kitchen, Darien and Lily were cooking dinner. Lily stood on a step stool and stirred a red sauce while Darien drained noodles in the sink. 

“Spaghetti night?” Leanna asked.

Lily whipped her head around and dropped her spoon in the pan. She hopped off her stool and ran to her mother. “I’m cooking!” she announced proudly. 

“I see! It smells so good.” Leanna drew her in a tight hug and picked her up. “I love you, Lily. I’m sorry Mommy has been mean lately.”

Lily patted her back. “It’s okay, Mommy. Taste sauce! I made it by myself. ”

Leanna put her down. Her daughter forgave so easily. She wasn’t as sure she could forgive herself. 

“Welcome back.” Darien’s tone was bland and cold. It was obvious he was talking for Lily’s sake.

“We need to talk after Lily’s put to bed.”

He nodded. 

Dinner went by quickly. Darien cleared the table and started on the dishes. Leanna frowned at his back. It stung a bit, how he was ignoring her, but she supposed it was deserved. Since he was cleaning the kitchen, she turned towards Lily. Sauce was smeared all around Lily’s face and hands, signs of a well enjoyed dinner. It was hard not to cringe as she rubbed her hands around the table, fascinated by her art.

“Bath time!” Leanna said cheerfully. 

Lily scowled. “No! I’m painting.” She continued swirling sauce on the table.

“Come on now,” Leanna said softly. “You’re messy! We can color before bed, how’s that sound?”

“Noooo,” she whined. 

Frustration rose in Leanna. She was anxious to talk with Darien and having it out with Lily was the last thing she wanted. Especially considering how the day had gone. 

She’s only three. Patience. 

What did a bit of a mess matter in the grand scheme of things? It didn’t. Leanna sat beside her. “Sauce makes a very interesting paint, doesn’t it? Can I try it too?”

Lily beamed at her mother. “Yeah!”

So she drug her fingers through the mess on the table, making a heart. Lily clapped. Leanna smiled at her. “Your turn.”

Lily wiped the heart away and drew swirls. 

“Very nice. Can you help me clean it up now?”

Lily nodded. She darted off and came back just as quickly with a roll of paper towels. 

“Thank you.” They cleaned the table up together. Lily’s assistance hindered more than helped, but Leanna saw how much it mattered to her to be involved and realized with growing horror how much she’d been excluding her daughter the past two months. She vowed to change that.

I’ll be the mother you deserve. 

The evening progressed as Leanna got Lily clean and ready for bed. Darien was no where to be seen after he finished in the kitchen. 

“Goodnight, baby.” Leanna closed the door behind her and leaned against it with a sigh. She closed her eyes. Anxiety pushed in on her; her heart rate rose. Moments like these she most craved the numbness. But that numbness she sought left Lily alone and crying. That could never happen again.

Do the next right thing. 

She walked with purpose to her bedroom. Darien was waiting for her, sitting on the bed. He rubbed his face tiredly. 

“What more do you have to say, Leanna?” 

“A lot. I’ve been a coward. I’ve been running from my feelings, running from reality, trying to disappear. I’ve been selfish. But I’m done running now.” 

She strode over to her sock drawer and pulled out the pill bottle. Darien’s eyes widened. 

“How long have you been taking those?”

“Since Mama died.” 

“Where did you get those?”

Leanna shrugged. 

“Do you have any idea how dangerous, how irresponsible, how-” 

“I know. And I get you’re angry with me. I’m angry with me too.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. He didn’t budge. “Please come with me. I need you with me.” 

She pulled his hand again, and this time he rose and followed her. They walked towards the bathroom, hands linked. How long had it been since they’d last held hands? Leanna squeezed his hand, feeling the warmth and the roughness. It seeped into her. For a moment, she pretended they were back then, back when things were happy and normal and his hand in hers was a daily occurrence. She remembered the flutter of her heart and warmth on her cheeks when he’d touch her. For an all too brief moment, she felt it again. They arrived in the bathroom and his fingers slipped from hers. The warmth was gone. Leanna popped the lid off the bottle and stared down into it. Ten left. Ten more portals to the comforting numbness. She flipped the bottle over and watched as the pills fell into the toilet. This was it. She flushed them down and threw the empty bottle into the trash.

“This doesn’t fix things,” he whispered. Her heart played the drums. One step at a time. 

She turned towards him, a sad smile on her face. “No. But it’s a start.”

Warm arms engulfed her in a hug. It was solid and warm and familiar. Darien’s shirt was soft and smelled of fresh laundry mixed with the familiar musk of his sweat. The only sound was the steady beat of his heart contrasted against the erratic beating of hers. She pressed close to him and breathed him in, matching his breaths. 

A mountain still stood before her. A gulf of grief was yet to be crossed. But she was going to climb the mountain and cross that gulf, one step at a time. For the first time in two months, she realized there was sun shining through the storm and she was brave enough to navigate it. Brave enough to ask for help. Maybe everything would be okay.