Safe

-61- With Meaning

Holt Lincoln

"So did they ever come up with a name?" Ari asks, leaning over the arm of her chair.

I shake my head unable to form words at the moment because I'm too busy trying to convince myself that this doesn't change anything.

I'm not convinced.

I wish Blue was here.

"Have you practiced changing diapers?" Mia asks from the chair beside Ari.

Once again I shake my head no.

"Can you imagine if mom and dad had a baby right now?" Mia asks her sister.

And in true Ari fashion she rolls her eyes, giving her sister a flat look. "My luck it'd be another you."

Mia laughs, unfazed by her sister's mock indifference. I don't necessarily understand how their relationship works. Ari always acts like everyone's a bother and Mia is the complete opposite but somehow it does. Dissecting their pellicular personalities momentarily distracts me from my uncertainty. Long enough that Mr. Lincoln blows through the doors to the lobby.

"Holt, come on!" His excitement startles me but I shove myself out of the chair as everyone bombards Mr. Lincoln with questions.

"They're both great, we'll start bringing people back in a few but she wants to meet her big brother." He tells all of the family.

I reach for Blue even though I know he's not there.

"Mom's doing great and so is baby." He tells me as we walk down the hallway. "Are you excited?"

I can't find the right answer. I know what he wants me to say but I'm not excited. No matter what I say doubt still gnaws at my thoughts, eating away at any security that I'm trying to keep faith in.

He goes into the room first, my heart beating out of control in my chest as I follow in after him. Mrs. Lincoln's sitting up in the bed, cradling a bundle of pink.

She looks up at me, a smile spread across her face. "Say hi to Holt." She tells the bundle.

"Here come sit." Mr. Lincoln pulls a chair to the edge of the bed.

I don't want to sit but I listen. My body shaking slightly as I settle into the hard chair. Mrs. Lincoln tucks the blanket back, a chubby pink face peaking up through the blankets. She's awake, blue eyes staring at Mrs. Lincoln, a matching hat pulled over her head.

"Why don't you hold her?" Mrs. Lincoln suggests.

I shake my head, my throat tight and my breathing starting to restrict.

"You're okay Holt." She tells me.

I don't feel okay. I feel like I might be suffocating. I feel like I'm just waiting for them to change their minds.

Mr. Lincoln takes the baby from her, talking to it quietly as he walks around the edge of the bed. Next thing I know he's bending down in front of me, instructing me on how to hold my arms. And then he places the baby in my arms and I can't breathe.

I think I might panic.

Opening my mouth to tell them I can't, my eyes shift down to the warm weight in my arms, little fingers peaking out of one of the folds in the blanket. Blue eyes looking at me, lips parted. She sticks her tongue out. She's so small, so fragile and helpless. Innocent.

I start crying.

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"She needs a name." I say, I haven't actually handed her back yet.

I held her while I cried, sobbing while Mr. and Mrs. Lincoln tried to figure out what I was crying about.

I'm not even sure.

I just feel overwhelmed and scared when I look at her but I also don't want to let her go.

"Any ideas?"

I've actually thought about this a lot. About what my mom thought when she picked out my name. I even looked up the definition, something about an animal den or to have a grip or hold. I'd like to think she put thought into, that it wasn't just plucked out of a list with a shrug of her shoulders.

I've spent a lot of time reading lists of names and their meanings. But I couldn't pick one because I didn't know how I felt. I didn't know what it'd feel like to have a sister.

But looking down at her, I make a silent promise that I'll always take care of her especially if something ever happened to our parents. That I won't abandon her, I won't let her go into foster care. That I'll keep her safe. I'll protect her.

I don't want her to be scared like I was. I don't want her to know the evil that exists.

Someone so innocent should only ever know love, right?

Her skin is like velvet, warm and soft as I gently touch her cheek.

"Can we name her Vida?" I ask. "It's supposed to mean life or beloved and..." I feel this need to explain myself. Make sure they understand I didn't just pick a name randomly. That I've thought on this constantly since they asked me to come up with names. "She should have a...a name that means something."

The Lincoln's have been throwing names out there especially as time ticked down but none of them ever stuck. They'd test them out for an hour or two and then discard them with the rest.

"Vida." Mr. Lincoln says the name, his voice soft and full of love.

"I love it." Mrs. Lincoln says.

My eyes meet Mrs. Lincoln's, "yeah?"

"It's beautiful Holt." She's about to cry again.

Looking back down at Vida, I pull her a little closer to me.

                              ————————

Sorry for the late update. Last night was the hubs murder mystery party. And needless to say I was up late and drunk. As always why do I do this to myself? 😫😭 I'm too old.