Tallulah

It's odd. I'm alone. I don't think I've ever been this truly alone.

Esperanza yawns and fusses quietly as I walk around the empty apartment. It's been a blur - these whole two weeks have been wild and loud and busy, so I'm quite surprised to be alone and have some actual time to myself. It's weird not to be chained to a pole, to not have to walk down to the nursery to see Esperanza (Essie for short, I've decided). My parents came to see me the day after Essie was born. Albert sat very patiently with her fussing in his arms as I explained myself to them. I had no other choice, and I just wanted them to know that it wasn't like I wanted to hurt him.

I promised that I would explain more when I could, when we had time, and they promised to try to come and see me as often as they could.

One of the few memorable experiences at the hospital was when Agnes came to see Esperanza. The only reason I even knew she was there was because I was in the nursery with her, nursing during a quiet moment in the constant stream of visitors in my room. If it wasn't my mother, it was Albert and Peter, usually with Isabel, or Katie or Simone. Leonard practically spent every day with me at the hospital, mostly doing paperwork in his little corner and keeping me company during the evening.

Adonis didn't come by, not after that fateful day. I was kind of sad, to be honest. I didn't want to see him, but I wanted him to come see her, at least. Even if I didn't want anything to do with him, he needed to be a part of his daughter's life. It didn't matter what happened between us. Essie didn't deserve to be slighted that way. I wasn't going to go out of my way to make him do so, however - he could do as he pleased, but his daughter shouldn't have to suffer because of it.

In any event, I don't think Esperanza really suffered much, because during the hour and a half they actually let me keep her in the room, Leonard would set everything down and just hold her and let me sleep, which was nice, since she was fed every two hours on the hour and so gave me no time to rest.

So, anyway, I was in the nursery with Essie, singing her to sleep as I rocked her back and forth. We were leaving soon, and were just waiting for the doctor to give us the okay. Agnes walked into quiet nursery, her black dress a sharp contrast to the pastel color scheme of the room. I looked at her, raising an eyebrow in surprise, unsure what to say. Essie started to fuss, grabbing my thumb as she started to squirm.

"Hello, Tallulah," Agnes said quietly. "Long time no see, huh? Is... is that the baby?" I nod and she bites her lip, nervous. I don't expect to see Barney because they had split up not so long ago, and it seemed like he'd scampered off to the middle of nowhere since we hadn't heard from him.

"Her name's Esperanza." I stood up slowly, resting her against my shoulder as I rubbed her back. She stopped fussing so much, yawning instead. "She was... a little tiny, I think, but she's perfect. Ten little fingers. Ten little toes."

"Can I hold her?" Agnes asks, raising her hands nervously. What did she think I was going to to her? I handed her over gingerly, gnawing on my bottom lip. Essie looked at me, opening and closing her mouth slowly before looking up, startled at the change. Agnes looked at her as she wrapped her small hand around her finger, starting to wriggle. She started to burp Essie, hands feather light on her back.

"I didn't... I didn't want to hurt him," I say awkwardly as Agnes sways slowly. "I was - he - he was really going to hurt me, you know?" Agnes looks at me as Essie sleeps in her arms, face blank. She hands her back to me, shaking her head.

"I should go." Agnes passed her back, eyes fond as she watched her. "But, I... I'll tell him to come see her. She looks more like your mother more than anything." She said so with a laugh, sighing. "I'm happy you're alright, though. My son can be... difficult, I suppose."

That was as close as I was ever going to get to her acknowledging that Adonis did wrong, but it was alright. I wasn't expecting much else from her, and I think we both knew that.

When the doctors gave us the okay to leave, Elaine made a big show of taking Essie, who fussed and cried the whole way out of the hospital. I watched her go, heart aching as they left. I wanted to cry, because we'd never been separated that way before. I knew I'd be seeing her shortly, but it still felt weird, not being near her.

Leonard glanced at me, taking my small suitcase in his free hand. It felt nice to be dressed in clothes that fit me properly, getting rid of those horrible hospital gowns. I fixed my hair in the mirror, pushing some of the curls behind my ear. I almost looked like a normal person again. I grabbed my coat and hat, glancing out the window nervously.

Not even the torrential downpour was keeping the press away. Someone must have found out I was leaving, and they were chomping at the bit to get a glimpse of me. I had heard a nurse yelling at a reporter earlier today, so they were even in the hospital, bothering other innocent patients and staff. According to Leonard, one of them had almost snuck into the nursery to take pictures of Essie, and the nurse simply wasn't having it.

"You alright?" I nodded, tucking my hair into my hat. "You sure? We can go out through the back, like Elaine did. It's really not that big a deal."

"I'm not hiding from them. I didn't do anything wrong, and eventually, they'll all know that. Let's go. It's almost time for Essie's feeding."

Leonard and I made a quiet exit, heading toward the elevators. He squeezed my hand in the elevator, sighing.

"It really is going to be alright, you know?"

"I hope so."

There was an officer sitting in the lobby, waiting for us. He smiled curtly, leading us outside. Leonard opened a black umbrella as we walked outside, the press crowding us together as flashes went off, people yelling and talking over each other. I shut my eyes, looking down as I tried to block them all out. In any event, the cop did try to get them to move, yelling for order, but it still took us almost ten minutes to get to Leonard's car. I sat in the passenger seat, shivering as I glanced up at the people mobbing the car, taking off my hat as I gnawed on my bottom lip. I was soaked through my thin coat, goose bumps on my skin as

"For God's sake," Leonard murmured as he shut his door, staring the car. He beeped at people to move, shaking his head as he looked over at me. "You're okay?" I nodded. "Good. Elaine should be at the apartment by now."

We made pleasant small talk in the car, and for a while I could just pretend we were two people driving to somewhere unknown instead of an attorney and his client. I was somewhat thankful that no one had found out where I was staying and that we could walk into Leonard's building without much hassle. He lived in a very simple, modest building with balconies. He took me up to my apartment first, and there Elaine sat, rocking Essie on the couch.

I looked around the apartment. The kitchen was small and had a neat, orderly row of bottles on the counter, with stacked cans of powder formula and other trifles. The floors were tile, white and simple. The oven was white and black, nondescript with a clock above and a sink next to it. The icebox was green and empty, save for a few sparse groceries. The living room was sparse, a couch, a small coffee table, and then the balcony, which I couldn't go out on because it was still raining pretty badly. The bathroom was also sparsely adorned, as well as the bedroom. There were some clothes on the bed, which was very simply made with a large comforter and two pillows. Essie's crib sat in the corner, brown and pink, a white blanket hanging off the edge.

"So..." Leonard asked, standing behind me. "It's not much but - "

"I like it," I said, turning around. "I can work with this."

After we all talk for a while, and we all come to the conclusion that, since I'm on house arrest that stipulates that I can't leave my apartment at all, unless it's for a court date, an appointment at Leonard's office, or some other emergency, it could be a lot worse. At least I have my own space and the baby, and we're okay. For now, anyway. It's not so bad, not really - I can recieve visitors, at least, so my family can still come see the baby. I don't have very many friends or a job so I don't have such a big issue with not being able to leave, at least not for now. Soon, I know that we'll prove my innocence to everyone, so if I have to live like this for a little while it's really not so bad.

It doesn't hit me until after they leave that I'm all alone in this apartment with Essie and no one else. I have enough groceries to last me the rest of the week, and after making a quick check of my inventory of bottles, diapers, blankets, clothes, and other necessities, I think I might just make it. Hopefully.

Motherhood is... interesting.

It's a lot more challenging than I thought it would be, but granted, I also thought I'd have a lot more help because I wasn't expecting any of this to happen. Esperanza is a little underweight for her age (she's so small) so I worry, but some of the books I read before everything happened said that some children are simply born underweight for no real reason and usually grow up to be healthy, happy and well adjusted.

Some nights, it really gets to me - being so alone, staring at the same set of walls, watching the same reruns, making the same thing for dinner - the feeling like I'm a prisoner in my own home for something I didn't mean to happen. But then, Essie does something, usually something little, that reminds me that this is all going to be worth it in the end.

The first time she smiled at me, I actually cried.

It's just frustrating, doing it all by myself. My parents come to see me, once a week, and call me almost every day, but they can only see me for two hours at a time and that's it. My sisters, Simone and Katie, came with them, and when we weren't crying, we were fussing over Essie. They were kind enough to bring me groceries and other necessities, soap and lotion and and toys for Essie to play with.

Essie is a pretty good sleeper, but when she's hungry, she lets you know right away and hasn't actually let me sleep a full night since I brought her home from the hospital. I'm very, very tired, both physically and emotional drained.

In any event, Leonard does try his best to help me out when he can. I do know, however, that he has a life outside of Essie and myself, not to mention his other cases and his personal life. I'm thankful for the odd evening here and when he comes over to make my confinement a little less lonely. I'm not used to being alone, I guess, to having the only noise around me be a fussing infant and the static of the radio on my windowsill or the quiet show playing on the television.

The press has died down a little, but not by much. I haven't left my apartment yet, mostly because there's always a reporter or two sitting outside in fancy cars, waiting for me to say something. (I don't know what to say yet. It hasn't sunk in.) I sit with Essie on the balcony in the dark sometimes, thinking about nothing and everything all at once.

Adonis doesn't ask to see Essie until she's 25 days old.

Leonard comes early on a Friday, while I'm giving her a sponge bath before her feeding. He looks nervous, like he's hiding something as I wrap the baby in a towel. He follows me into our room, and I'd be more embarrassed about the clothes strewn all over if it weren't for the fact that I'm exhausted and barely have the energy to the basic things some days. I set her down the bed as I towel her off, starting to dress her as he looks around, shifting anxiously.

"Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, sort of," Leonard says as I button the edges of the small white onesie shut. "I just - I mean, you can say no, and if you do, I won't judge you, but... still I don't think it's a good idea, but... I mean, as your lawyer I can't tell you what to do with your personal life." I watch him as I sit with Essie on my lap, letting her play with my fingers. "I - a couple of minutes ago, I got a call from Cyrus, and your husband - until the divorce is finalized, anyway - wants to see the baby."

I look at him, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

"Today?" I shrug, shaking my head. "Okay. It's not like I have anywhere to be." Leonard tells me that the meeting will take place at Cyrus' office downtown, and that I don't have to if I don't want to. And a small part of me, selfish, doesn't want to - why should I? I don't ever want to see him again. But, rationally, I know it would be wrong of me to keep her from him. Even if he's a terrible human being, he's still her father, and he has as much right to see her and hold her and play with her as I do.

I let Leonard take care of Essie while I take a shower and try not to cry at the prospect of seeing him again. I don't want to see him - I feel like throwing up at the thought of him sitting across a table from me - and I don't want to sign those papers, want this all to be over, don't want him to just throw us away. But what else do I expect? I shot him and he cheated on me and hit me and there was no possible way for us to go back to the way we were before everything happened, no matter how much I want it to be.

The news vans haven't been anywhere near my apartment building for almost a week, which makes me a little happy. We take Esperanza out, bundled in blankets and a hat, a heavy bag on my shoulder. I haven't left my apartment since we came home from the hospital, so the fresh air does me good. She's gurling and cooing, tugging at my pinky and thumb as we make the long drive downtown, to where Adonis and his attorney are waiting for us.

Leonard tells me that I don't have to do this, but the problem is that I do. Esperanza needs her dad, or a dad, anyway, and I suppose Adonis will have to do. Unless he decides that he doesn't need to be in her life either, which really won't surprise me, because he's really got no sense of right or wrong, no sense of direction or justice or just morality, period. The building is large, dark and looming. It makes me uncomfortable, being here, but I know that I have to at least give Adonis the opportunity to be a decent human being.

Esperanza is awake, wide awake, and she looks uncomfortable, which isn't surprising either because she's not used to being anywhere but our little apartment. Leonard keeps trying to be encouraging, but I have to ignore him because if I acutally delude myself into believing him, and this doesn't work out, it'll just crush me. In the office, which is very large and posh and slightly intimidating, there's a long oak table, two lawyers, and Adonis.

He looks just like I remember him, and I stop short for a moment, staring at him. Am I afraid? Am I ashamed? I don't know. I'm a little upset it took him so long to ask to see her, but at least he wanted to see his child. Esperanza gurgles in the blanket against my chest, squirming as I finally will myself to take a seat. I don't look away from Adonis, even though I want to shrink into myself and hide.

I don't regret what I did, because it wasn't on purpose and I was only trying to protect myself and my child. Still, something like guilt creeps into me and I don't know why. I know he would have really hurt me if I hadn't done what I'd done, so why do I feel so bad?

Watching Esperanza with Adonis is painful. He doesn't know how to hold her, and she doesn't really seem to like him very much, either. I want to take her from him, tell him that she's still too tiny to support her head by herself and to be careful because she'll spit up if he holds her that way, that no! He's going to drop her, or do something stupid, but I can't bring myself to even look him in the eye, much less tell him how to carry his daughter.

Adonis eventually sits Esperanza on his lap, looking at me with a sort of odd expression that's difficult for me to read. She looks uneasy, seeing as she doesn't know him very well at all.

"You need to sign the papers, Lulu." I bristle at the pet name, trying not to buckle under his stare. "It'll be easier for us both. What do you want? For the baby to go to an orphanage after you go to prison?"

"I'm not going to prison," I counter, looking at him plainly. "I don't - you can't make me do anything, and you're not taking the baby from me."

"You're not even supposed to have the child, Mrs. Papa - " the lawyer counters, but Leonard pops up, looking from his notepad.

"That's Miss Roosevelt to you," he corrects, small smile on his face. Adonis glances at him, then at me, then back at him. There's nothing going on between him and I - nothing besides friendship and a professional lawyer-client relationship.

"Well Miss Roosevelt," the lawyer continues. "Signing the custody agreement could protect your child from being placed in an overloaded and under monitored child welfare system."

"The only person she needs protection from is you," I say, pointing at Adonis. "And I'll be damned if I let you take her from me. Is this why you wanted us to come?"

"I'm not the one on house arrest, Lulu, so - "

"Don't call me that. I'm nothing of yours, and you're nothing of mine. We're not anything anymore."

"So sign the divorce papers," he says, shrugging. "Do you really think you're going to be able to keep her after this? Hm? You can't exactly raise a child while serving life in prison." I stay silent, staring at him. She starts to gurgle and fuss, face growing flush and pink. He holds her with disdain, and hands her to Leonard, making a face.

The meeting ends with me swallowing tears, with Adonis angry, Esperanza fussy, and both our lawyers at an impasse. I left with the baby, upset. Leonard said nothing in the car, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white.

We sit in silence for the entire drive home. It isn't uncomfortable, isn't pleasant either. Just... silent.

In my apartment - after going in through the back due to the mob that had formed outside once the news of my appointment at the attorney's office had leaked - Leonard makes me dinner while I settle Essie in the crib. It's almost kind of nice. Leonard is nice, I suppose. But I shot the last nice man I knew, so I don't allow myself to entertain any illusions, because - well. I can know this can only end badly for me, but it'd be nice to pretend, perhaps for a moment or two, that it won't be so horrible.