by Britney King
She looked away, out the passenger window.
“What in the hell did you come here for then?”
Amelie inhaled. By this point, she was crying. “I just wanted to see you. And I thought you should know...”
He threw up his hands, opened the door, and slammed it behind him. “You know what, Amelie? Fuck you!”
Later, after Jack had taken a walk and cooled down, he got back in the car and drove the two of them back to his apartment where they sat across from one another as if they were both daring the other to speak. A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Was he ready for this? What kind of father would he be? Nothing like his own, that was for sure. What would their baby look like? Like her, hopefully.
“You don’t have to do this,” he finally said. “We could raise this baby together.”
She grimaced. “You don’t really realize what you’re saying.”
Jack stood, walked over, and kneeled on the floor in front of her. He took her hands in his. “Yes, I do.”
She stared at their hands. “That’s funny considering we’re not even certain it’s yours.”
Jack lightly grabbed her chin and pulled it toward him, forcing her to look directly at his face. “I don’t care.”
She scoffed. “You say that now. But you have no idea…”
“I know that I love you. I know that I would love anything that’s a part of you.”
Amelie stared at his fingers as they traced the outline of her palm. “We both know that love isn’t enough. I mean, haven’t we learned anything here.”
Jack released her hand and backed away. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You don’t want love to be enough, do you? It’s you who doesn’t want this baby, Amelie. Not me. Remember that”
“You’re right. I don’t want this baby. Or any other baby. I don’t want kids. I really never have...”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Well, I guess you should have considered that before. How did this happen, anyway? I thought you were on the pill?”
She straightened her back. “I was… I am. I guess I could’ve forgotten to take it a few times. I don’t know, Jack. What do you want me to say? Nothing’s one hundred percent… you know that.”
Jack pushed himself up off the floor and walked to the kitchen. “You wanna know what I know?” He pounded his fist on the counter. Jack felt the rage building, but he couldn’t push it back down, even if he’d wanted to. “I know that you don’t take shit seriously! You never have. This is all just a game to you! But you know what, Amelie? EVERYTHING isn’t about YOU. This is my life we’re talking about. This is our child’s life. Why did you come here? Why not just take care of it in France? Why even tell me? How fucking selfish of you. I mean, you had to know what I was going to say…”
Amelie wiped the tears on her face with the back of her hand, and then met his gaze head on. “You want the truth, Jack? I came here because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. Vincent dumped me, and I didn’t want to go home and bother my mother with this because I didn’t think I could handle seeing yet another look of disappointment on her face. I came here because I thought you were my friend. Because I can count on you. So, you can yell and scream… and pound your fists all you want. But don’t think for one second I haven’t already done all of those same things. You want someone to blame? Fine, blame me. I can take it. You think I don’t already blame myself enough, as it is? Do you really think this is easy for me? I know exactly what I’m doing. You don’t have to remind me. Because believe me, I’m aware. I’m killing my kid, Jack. And it’s killing me. You act like this is all so simple. As though I’ll just pop this baby out and live happily ever after. But it doesn’t work like that. Do you have any idea how much having a baby will change my life? Every hope and every dream I’ve ever had will die, Jack. All of my career goals… gone. My life will never be my own again. And you’re right. I am selfish. But at the same time, I want you to look around. Look around at everything you’ve worked so hard for and consider how it would feel if you knew it was all for nothing. Consider what it would feel like to give it all up. To just quit and for the next eighteen years, at the very least, focus all your attention on something else. The truth is that won’t happen for you. It isn’t the same. It will happen for me though. Having this baby would mean sacrificing myself. Because that’s what motherhood is, Jack. Even in the best of circumstances, that’s what it is. But please, by all means, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I can still live the life I want to live. Tell me I can travel the world. Tell me that attaining my dream job as a travel photographer would still be within reach… and I’ll say ok. I’ll have this baby. I’ll pay for my mistake. I’ll have it for no other reason than because it’s what you want. I’ll have it because we both know it would be doing the right thing. Excuse me, though, for posing this question… the right thing for whom? ”
Jack inhaled and slowly let it out. He didn’t know a lot about kids. But he knew just enough to know that he couldn’t honestly tell her what it was he so desperately wanted to say.
Jack and Amelie spent two days going back and forth over their situation but in the end, Jack realized she wasn’t going to change her mind. The night before the appointment, which Jack knew would change it all, they lay in bed, backs to one another, careful not to touch. He was so angry with her, and even angrier with himself that he couldn’t make her change her mind, and he worried that it would never be the same for the two of them. This was drawing a line in the sand, and it bothered him to think that they’d never recover once it was all said and done.
“I’m sorry, Jack,” she whispered in the dark. “If I thought I could do it, I would. I know it doesn’t make any difference, but I just want you to know that.”
Jack spoke menacingly. Slowly. To make sure he really drilled it in. “If you do this, Amelie. That’s it. I can’t be a part of whatever this is anymore.”
“I know.” She sighed, her answer catching him off guard.
“And I can’t be there tomorrow. I called a car service to pick you up and take you.”
“Ok.”
“So that’s it… Ok? That’s all you got? That’s the best you can do?” Jack fumed.
Silent tears streamed down her face. “I’m sorry. Despite what you may think I really do wish I could be what it is you want me to be.”
“Yeah, well, the girl I thought I knew, she was always a fighter. Oh, how far the mighty have fallen. Your dad would be so proud.” It was a low blow, he knew. But what choice did she leave him?
She didn’t say anything else. Instead, she simply gathered her things and walked out the front door. And just like all the times before—Jack let her go. This time though, he knew exactly whom his inaction was benefiting. It’s always better to force ones hand where you could, and he knew that. It is, after all, hard to lose if you’re not given a say in the matter.
The following morning, Jack paced his apartment. He expected her… hell, he’d wanted her to walk out. But what he hadn’t planned for was what it was he would do once she did. Truth be told, he half expected that she’d come back, that she would change her mind. When she didn’t turn up, Jack felt anxious. He couldn’t let her go to that clinic alone, he realized. So when the car service he’d ordered showed up, he hitched a ride to the clinic. When he got there, he paced some more. No way could he go in that place. What would he say? He’d say that he was here, that he wasn’t a pussy, that’s what he’d say. He’d tell her that he didn’t agree with what she was doing but that he wasn’t going to leave her alone. That he held just as much responsibility for getting them there as she did.
Jack took a deep breath, opened the door, and scanned the waiting room. There was no sign of her.
“Can I help you?” a receptionist called from behind a glass window.
He looked from side to side. “Um…”
“Is there someone you’re here to see, young man? Is there something I can help you with?” the la
dy asked firmly.
“Yes. Amelie. Amelie Rose. I think she has an appointment today.”
“Is she expecting you?”
“Yes. I had to park the car,” Jack lied.
The woman peered at him over her glasses, nodded, and scanned a file on her desk. “They’ve already called her back. You’ll need to go through those doors over there. And to the right. The nurse will show you from there.”
Jack felt the blood drain from his face. He gripped the counter. “Is she… has she already…”
The receptionist seemed unfazed by his question as though this sort of thing happened to guys like him every day. “No. They’re just getting her worked up, now.”
Jack swallowed hard.
“You’ll hear the doors click as I buzz you in. Follow to the right.”
A nurse met Jack at the doors and motioned for him to follow her down a long hall. She finally stopped, opening the door to a tiny room, which was lit by blinding florescent lights. The nurse motioned for him to go in. Amelie was dressed in a gown, her head in her hands, sitting atop an exam table, centered in the middle of the room. Jack had never seen a more sterile place in all his life. Not even with all the time he spent with his mother in and out of the doctor’s offices and hospitals. This place was the worst of them all. At least with cancer there’s a chance, he thought. There was no chance in this place. What was done here, was done. It was final. This thought made Jack want to pick her up and carry her out right then and there.
She looked up then. “Jack.”
He noticed her eyes were swollen, like she’d been crying for a long, long time. “Please don’t cry,” he whispered, embracing her. “I’m here, now. And I’m so sorry,” he said, as he gently rubbed her back and felt her tears soak through his shirt.
“I don’t know what to say,” she finally said when the sobs had subsided.
“Sometimes there isn’t anything to say,” Jack said, after he pulled back and wiped the rims of her eyelids softly with the pads of his thumbs. He brushed the hair away from her eyes.
She searched his face. “Thank you for coming.”
Jack exhaled. “There’s no way I could’ve not come. I shouldn’t have pretended otherwise.”
A nurse interrupted then. “Sir, it’s time for us to take her back. You’ll have to wait in the waiting room. I’ll come and get you when we get her to recovery. It should be about forty-five minutes or so.”
Jack panicked. “I can’t go with her?”
The nurse glanced briefly at the chart then back at Jack. “No. I’m afraid not.”
Amelie smiled just a little, for his benefit he knew. “I’ll be fine.”
He took a deep breath and reluctantly let go of her hand. “I love you, Amelie. I really, really do.”
Her eyes welled up with tears, which Jack could tell she was trying her damnedest to hold back. She nodded. “I know.”
There’s nothing like sitting in a waiting room helpless to prove to one just how much they love another, Jack decided. As angry as he’d been, his anger had shifted a little now to something that more closely resembled remorse. In the fifty minutes that he would spend waiting to see for himself that she was ok, Jack realized that he’d been wrong. This experience hadn’t drawn a line in the sand. But it had instead proved just how much you could possibly forgive someone for if you loved them enough.
THIRTEEN
In the days after ‘the appointment’, as Jack dubbed it, he cared for Amelie the best he knew how. He brought her food in bed. Food, which she didn’t touch. He tried to make small talk to which she didn’t respond. She’d sunk to a low that even Jack, as resourceful as he thought he was, couldn’t seem to pull her from. She rotated between sleeping, crying, and staring blankly out the bedroom window. By the following Tuesday, Jack decided he needed to return to his summer classes, both for the benefit of his studies and his sanity. That morning, he went to class, and then headed to work in the afternoon after briefly stopping in to check on Amelie, who had been sleeping, still lying in the same spot she was in when he’d left that morning.
When Jack came home that evening and unlocked the door, he sensed right away that something was off. For starters, there were no lights on in the place, Which could only mean one thing—Amelie still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He headed straight to the bedroom. He was so furious by that point, partially at her, but mostly at himself for not knowing how to handle the situation. He turned on the bedside lamp only to find that she wasn’t in the bed. He ran from room to room, looking for her before finding her lying on the bathroom floor facedown, in a pool of her own vomit. Jack pushed his fingers into her neck searching for a pulse. He watched her chest slowly rise and fall. She was breathing. Thank god.
“Amelie? Amelie! What the fuck!” He picked up her head, dug the vomit from her mouth, and shook her. She rolled a little then and vomited all over his hands. “Amelie… Amelie. Wake up!” She stirred when he shouted her name but was otherwise unresponsive. Jack picked up the empty vodka bottle and tried to remember how much had been in it before. Goddamn it. He turned on the shower and let the water warm up. Then he placed her in the tub without bothering to remove the pajamas she was wearing. Under the water, she perked up a bit. “Amelie. Talk to me. How much did you drink? What did you take?” She shrugged, mumbled something he couldn’t make out, and let her head fall against the side of the tub. He screamed her name a few more times. He shook her. Nothing.
Jack shut off the water. He wrapped a towel around her. So she wouldn’t be cold, he told himself. And then he dialed 9-1-1.
It would be thirty-six arduous hours before they would allow Jack to see her again. He answered question after question from the authorities. Questions about how much she might have had to drink, what meds she was on, and how, as a minor, she had obtained the alcohol she’d consumed. Jack told them everything he knew, which it turned out wasn’t much. He told them about the abortion and the prescriptions that the doctor had given her afterward. He gave them the information he had about her family and how they could reach her mother. When they determined he was no longer useful, they sent him to the waiting room where he waited, and then waited some more. He watched the clock as the minutes turned into hours and the hours into days. Jack had been asleep in the waiting room when he felt someone tapping his arm. He opened his eyes to find Amelie’s mother standing over him.
“Fancy a walk?” she asked.
Jack stood up slowly and followed her out the emergency room doors. “How is she?” he demanded. “No one will tell me anything.”
She pursed her lips. “I really wished you would have called me, Jack. What were you two thinking?”
“How is she?” he pleaded.
She frowned, and Jack couldn’t help but notice how much Amelie favored her mother. “She’s ok. Groggy. Tired. But ok...”
He exhaled all of the air in his lung and doubled over, resting his hands on his knees. “Oh, thank god. When can I see her?”
“Jack, tell me, how much do you know about my Amelie?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, confused by the question.
“My daughter is very sick. She needs treatment.”
“What do you mean she’s sick? What kind of treatment…?”
Her mother sighed. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, son. Amelie has tried to kill herself before. She needs help. Serious help.”
Jack backed away. “What are you trying to say? Amelie isn’t crazy!”
She put her hand up as if to appease him. “Jack, my daughter is bi-polar.”
He clenched his jaw and swallowed hard. “Bullshit. That’s bullshit! She’s just going through a rough time right now. That’s all. She’ll get through this. ”
“Look. I know this is a lot for someone your age to understand, but I need you to calm down, ok? Amelie is asking after you… but there’s something I need to discuss with you first. Before I take you upstairs... ”
Jack waited.
She hesitated before speaking. “I need you to be on my side about getting her help. Amelie cares a lot about you. She always has. Now… because of everything that’s happened, I can technically place her in a treatment program without her consent. But the doctors and I all agree… we hope it doesn’t have to come to that. The thing is, Jack… patients almost always do best when they make the decision themselves to seek treatment. So what I’m trying to say is… I need you to help my daughter come to that conclusion. I know it’s a lot to ask. But Amelie looks up to you. And I really think she’ll listen…”
He ran his fingers through his hair then shook his head. “Wait? Let me make sure I’ve gotten this straight. You want me to talk her into going to a mental institution? Because if that’s what you’re asking me to do… then you’re the crazy one, lady…”
She stared at the ground before meeting his eyes as she spoke. “Listen. I’m going to let you see her. But I need you to at least consider my request. I’m not doing this for myself. I’m doing this for her. I don’t want my daughter to end up dead. Certainly, you can understand that.”
“Just let me see her now, please. I need to see her.”
She sighed turned and motioned for Jack to follow her upstairs. It was the longest walk of his entire life.
Jack had not been prepared for what he was walking into. Seeing Amelie lying there like that with her arms in restraints did something to him that he felt he might never recover from. She didn’t deserve this. He felt his rage building but tried his best to suppress it. He needed answers. He needed to see her. He needed to fix this.
He pulled a chair as close to the bed as he could, picked up her hand, and sat stroking it. He noticed the bags hanging from the IV line that ran to her arm. He inhaled the sterileness of the room, and all at once, so many memories came flooding back. Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and demanded answers. “What’s wrong with her? Why is she like this? The abortion didn’t cause this. I’ve done research.” He’d figured Amelie would be groggy, but not as she was now, completely out of it. Comatose.