“No thanks.”
Connor’s face falls at the same rate my heart hits the floor.
Brandon picks him up and sets him down in the playpen in the corner of the room, emptying the basket of toys in there. “Here. Play in here.”
“Okay, well…” I swallow, wringing my hands. “Call me if you need me. Bye, baby. Bye, guys.”
While I’m waiting for the elevator in the hall, I root through my bag for my phone so I can tell Adam I’m heading to school. My hand brushes something furry, and I groan when I pull out Connor’s stuffed kitty. He’ll nap without his kitty, but he will not—no matter what —go to bed for the night without it.
I head back to Brandon’s, pushing the door open.
“She’s so fuckin’ weird,” someone says, and my feet stop.
“You’re telling me,” I hear Brandon mutter.
“A little overbearing, no?”
“Controlling as hell is what she is. Drives me up the fucking wall.”
Quiet laughter rings out as my chest heaves, my head dipping down. My hand trembles on the doorknob, the other one gripping the stuffed toy so tight.
“Can’t believe you had a kid with her.”
The words hurt, but not nearly as much as Brandon’s response.
“You think I chose this? Chose her ? She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a casual fuck for a few weeks of summer fun. You know her parents died when she was a kid and nobody ever adopted her. Sometimes I think she poked a hole in the condom or something, just to get the family she wanted. Now I’m stuck with her forever. You think that’s what I want?”
My fingers dig into the stuffed animal, and I try to ground myself in the moment. Feel the softness of its fur, listen to the whir of the air conditioner, inhale the scent of the food spread out on the counters.
But it doesn’t work.
Instead, I hear the words in my head, again and again, like they’re etching themselves there for me to replay at my darkest moments.
You think I chose this? Chose her?
Nobody adopted her.
Now I’m stuck with her.
The words are sharp and vicious, a knife plunged deep and twisted so forcefully. The stuffie falls to the ground as my hand moves to catch the quiver of my chin, to stifle the wounded whimper dripping from my lips. I take a step back, and then another, watching the door slam in my face when I let it go.
I make it to the elevator before I start to crumble.
“Are you feeling okay, Rosie? You look like you’re going to be sick.”
“I’m okay,” I lie, wringing my hands in my lap. They’re wet with sweat, shaking with the urge to fall apart. It took everything in me not to on the way here, not to give in to the gnawing compulsion to cry over a man whose words shouldn’t hold any weight at all.
Except in a few simple sentences, he touched on every one of my insecurities. He brought to life every fear I’ve spent years in therapy combating the legitimacies of, and validated all of them in one fell swoop.
“I didn’t sleep well last night. And I’ve got a bit of a headache.” I wave a flappy hand through the air. “This weather, I think.”
The look in Eva’s eyes says she’s not buying it. “How’s your summer been?”
“It’s, uh, it’s been great. Connor and I—” Squeezing my eyes shut, I shake my head. “Actually, could we not do this? I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m incredibly anxious about why you brought me in here. I’d rather get this over with so I can stop catastrophizing in my head.”
“I can certainly appreciate that. I didn’t mean to cause you anxiety over this, Rosie, but…well, look. To be honest with you, it’s not the best news, so in the spirit of getting this over with, I’ll just come right out and say it.” She rests her elbows on her desk, twisting a pen between her fingers as she watches me. She drops her gaze for only a moment, blowing out a sigh. “You’ve lost your scholarship.”
The half-assed grip I had on my bag fails, and it falls from my lap, the contents spilling out on the floor. “What ?” Eva rushes around the desk to help me. I hold my hand up, stopping her. “No. Stop.”
“Rosie,” she urges gently, watching me scramble to pick my things up, stuffing them in my bag. “Let me help you.”
“I’ve got it,” I snap, emotion bubbling in my throat. “What do you mean I lost my scholarship?”
“The donor felt you weren’t serious about your studies, and they wanted to go in a different direction.”
“Not serious ? But I-I…I’ve worked so hard for this!” I scramble to my feet, clutching my bag to my heaving chest. “I ace everything. I study so hard. I-I…I don’t have a life outside of school. I barely have any friends. I don’t go out, don’t party. School is my life .”
“You’re an excellent student, Rosie, and you have been since the moment you stepped foot inside this school.”
“Then help me understand,” I plead, my eyes burning with tears that want so desperately to fall. “What did I do wrong?”
Eva steps forward, taking my hand. “You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetheart. The donor’s values…it’s become clear they don’t align with yours.”
“What does that mean?”
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, like she’s debating whether to tell me. Sighing, she guides me back to the chair. “They were disappointed to learn that you took an academic break.”
“An academic break? But I was on maternity leave. I was raising my son.”
“They felt that in choosing to take a maternity leave at such an important time in your academic life, you decided where your priorities lied.”
“We live in Canada.” I press my fingers against the headache forming in my temples. I can’t be hearing this right. “I’m entitled to a full year maternity leave.”
“You absolutely are.”
“I’m being penalized for making my son, my family , my priority?”
“Rosie, you’re not being penal—”
“I’m losing my scholarship!” Blood thunders in my ears as I jump to my feet. The room spins, the edges of my vision blurring. “How am I supposed to pay for school? Oh my God.” I spin away from her, trembling hand pressed to my mouth as my world starts collapsing around me, the weight of the realization hitting me right in the chest. “How am I supposed to pay for school?” I whisper. “I used the last of my inheritance to supplement my maternity leave for the last year. I’ve only been back to work for four months. And only part time. And I have daycare expenses. I-I…I don’t have enough saved up. Not even close.” A choked sob escapes my throat, and I slap my hand over my mouth as my stomach threatens to empty itself. “Oh God.”
A hand lands on my back, and though the touch is meant to be soothing, I feel no comfort.
“What are my options?”
Eva pauses. “I’ve looked into some additional funding, some bursaries, but, Rosie, this close to the school year starting…everything’s already been spoken for.”
I hug my bag to my chest, staring at the ground. “I deserve this,” I whisper. “I’ve earned it.”