by L. M. Carr
He must feel the weight of my stare because he looks over at me. Our eyes meet—there is no need for words. After setting his laptop down on the bedside table, he pulls my body against his, his fingers reach out to brush my hair away from my face. Our faces are only inches apart. God, I love this man.
“Hi,” I say my voice raspy and dry.
“Hello, my beautiful girl.” He smiles, kissing my nose lightly.
“I’m sorry.” My eyes close and my voice falters on two little words, but he leans down to silence me with his lips.
“What do you have to be sorry for?” He pulls back to search my face. “You didn’t do anything,” he mutters against my lips.
Oh, Adam. There’s so much I need to apologize for. I should’ve told him everything that happened so he could truly understand the person I am. He would have known to run far away from me. Death and destruction tend to follow me.
“I’m the one who needs to apologize. I’m sorry for what you saw yesterday. I didn’t realize you were here until I found you outside. When I saw you crying, I assumed that you had seen what happened.”
Yesterday? I turn over to look out the window to see the early morning sun casting its morning glow. The time on the clock tells me is not yet 6:00 am. I can’t believe I’ve slept all night. That’s over twelve hours of sleep.
He continues, “Gina—” he starts but stops when my eyes flash to meet his. I can’t even stand to hear her name fall from his lips. “She stopped by to drop off some property listings for me to look at and told me about her father’s heart attack. She got really upset and when I tried to console her, she came onto me. She kissed me, but I pushed her away immediately, Mia. I swear I did. I have no idea what she was thinking.”
I just stare in silence, tears welling up threatening to fall.
I know this; I watched the whole familiar scene unfold in front of me as if it were in slow motion.
“She’s fucking crazy. She was rambling on and on about how we belong together. How we can be a family.” He shakes his head, his words evident of his disbelief. “How did I not see this before?”
My eyes continue to blink to keep the tears at bay, but I speak no words.
“Talk to me. Tell me that you believe me,” he begs, kissing my forehead.
I nod imperceptibly. “I believe you.” I know how crazy she can be. I’ve been on the receiving end of her craziness for too many years.
“She hates me so much, Adam.” Stupid tears well up again.
“Why?” he demands quietly. “Tell me what happened, Mia. Help me understand this animosity between the two of you.”
My heavy eyelids close, tears spill from my eyes, and my fingers find their way to my necklace as I silently ask God for strength to do this. I beg him for the strength and courage to tell Adam what I’ve kept hidden from him all these months.
And so there on a quiet, cold November morning, I divulge my deepest secrets, I expose my guilt, reliving the painful memories of how at twenty years old I got pregnant. I tell him about the baby that I carried for almost eight months and lost in an instant. An innocent, young life ended before it really ever began.
Adam cries with me. His heart breaks for me as I recall the events of that cold, icy winter night. The explosion that killed my father was the first of three horrific events. Tremors ravage through my body as I detail the sequence of everything that happened that night, as if I were reliving each moment all over again. Some of the events I can’t remember, my therapist said I’ve repressed those because they are too painful. But the image of entangled, naked bodies, the snow falling, the motion of my car spinning, those memories will haunt me for the rest of my life.
When I found out that my father, who was my hero and rock, was killed, I needed Dylan. Dylan Marx was my first real boyfriend and I loved him beyond words. I needed to tell him what happened to my father. I needed him to hold me and comfort me.
I was in such a despondent state when I pulled into his driveway that I didn’t even notice the compact, white BMW there next to his father’s old pickup truck. I didn’t knock on the door; I just walked into the quiet house like I always did. And that’s when I saw them.
Dylan was naked, his lean body stretched out on top of Gina, fucking her on the living room floor. I froze, thinking that I was hallucinating, but the nightmare was real. My boyfriend of two and half years, the father of my unborn child, was fucking my best friend, the girl I loved like a sister, right there in front of me. Screeching, feral screams exploded from deep within me and pierced the room, causing them to jump up and scramble for their clothes, but not before I saw it. The swell of Gina’s belly told me all I needed to know—in that moment, I clutched my own swollen belly and knew that I wasn’t the only one carrying Dylan’s baby.
Running back towards the refuge of my car, I couldn’t even see through my tears and the falling snow that whirled around me. Scrambling to get a sweatshirt on over his head, he pulled the passenger door open to stop me from driving away. He had no choice really but to jump in since I wasn’t slowing down and I definitely wasn’t stopping.
I remember the pain shooting through my hand as I pounded it on the steering wheel, screaming and asking the same questions over and over, “Why?” “How he could do this to me? To us?” I thought we were going to get married in the spring and start our life together, after our daughter was born. Oh God, how could you let this happen? How could I have been such a fool? Their betrayal was right in front of my face and I didn’t see it.
He kept yelling at me to slow down in between his pleas for forgiveness. He kept saying, “I’m sorry. We were going to tell you.” His explanation of how Gina started hanging around more often while I was away at school and how things just happened fell on my deaf ears. I didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t stand to hear it. My heart was shattered beyond any chance of repair. My boyfriend and my best friend, the two people I loved and trusted the most, obliterated my heart, leaving a huge gaping hole.
The snow-covered road was slick. Even though I knew all the twists and turns of the road like the back of my hand, hot tears coursed down my face, blurring my vision and it all happened so quickly. I was driving too fast and my car skidded across a patch of ice, sending us into a tailspin, heading straight for the steep embankment leading down to the river. Instinctively I slammed on the brake, but it was useless. My body was like a rag doll, being tossed around, crashing into the steering wheel. Dylan’s arms flew up to protect himself as his face crumbled with fear of what was to come. There was nothing I could do but hold on and pray. Prayers and screams filled the small space. And then silence.
“Mia, I am so sorry.” Adam’s arms circle my back and he holds me close. I can feel his chest shudder with unshed emotion. He gives me the strength and conviction to go on.
I continue to tell him how eight days later on Christmas morning, I awoke. My eyes fluttered as I took in my surroundings of the sterile room and saw my mother asleep on a chair. I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry and my throat hurt. I closed my eyes and breathed, hoping this was just a bad dream. I pushed my hair back, careful not to pull the IV out and then rested my hand on my stomach, exhaling loudly. It took a moment for the panic to set in as memories flooded my mind. My round belly was now flat.
The explosion. Dylan’s house. The car accident. Quiet sobs erupted from my chest while I repeatedly mumbled the words, “No, no, no.” The beeping became louder, almost frantic as if calling for help before a nurse came in to sedate me. Call it mother’s intuition. Call it whatever the hell you want. I knew without a doubt what had happened. My father was dead. My baby’s father was dead. My baby girl was dead.
“I’m so sorry.” Adam’s face was white as a ghost as he uttered those words over and over again as if he had been the one who inflicted such horrific pain. “I am so sorry. I wish I could take it all away, baby.” For hours, Adam’s strong arms held me and cradled me.
Adam mourned with me that morning. He cried with
me. He cried for me. He cried for the pain I suffered. He cried for the little baby who lived for a mere eight minutes. He cried for all I loved and lost. He cried as if he endured my pain, pulling me close to shield me from further unseen pain.
Something shifted in our relationship. I have never in my life been closer or more connected to another human being. Adam Lawson is my soul mate. He is my life. He is my home. He knows me like no one has ever known me. He loves me despite the fact that I carry a heavy burden and will never forgive myself for killing my child and her father. His love for me is unconditional.
We make love several times throughout the day without words, for no words are needed. Our bodies reveal the depths of our love for each other. His lips kiss my lips, my neck, and my breasts before pausing at my stretch marks. He places his forehead against my stomach, kissing up and down the dark pink lines, the physical evidence of a life that once was.
Exhaustion from the hours of crying beckons me and I fall into a deep slumber. When I awake a few hours later, I am alone. Grabbing the flat sheet, I go in search of Adam when I hear the shower running. The air is thick and hot, steam billows throughout the large bathroom. A strangled cry sends chills down my spine. It’s hard to hear with the sound of the water so I step further into the space. “Why? God, why?” Adam pleads with God for answers. Immediately my thoughts race to the kids. Did something happen to them? Of course, I realize that he wouldn’t be standing here, he would’ve rushed out to be with them. Those kids are his everything. To hear my beautiful man sob and the thumping of his forehead against the tile crushes me to the bone. I want to grab the door and ask him what I can do to ease his burden, but I can’t. This moment is private, a moment to be alone with your thoughts and God. Whatever is causing this ache in his soul is something that he needs to work out on his own.
I step back, closing the bathroom door quietly and crawl back into bed to wait for him. I will give him the time he needs.
***
“I CAN ONLY IMAGINE how beautiful you were.” His fingers traced the lines. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Mmmm…” I hum, keeping my eyes closed.
“What was it like?” he asks and then hesitates. “…to feel her grow and move in you?”
I keep my head down, but my eyes flash open to find his. I can’t imagine why he would ask me that question. It’s like pouring salt on an open wound. I swallow hard and reach for my necklace.
“What do you want to know?” I whisper.
“Everything. You can give me something that I never had to chance to experience.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
He looks down thoughtfully and then clears his throat before speaking. “I told you already how when Johanna was pregnant, she didn’t tell anyone. I never got the chance to see my babies grow in her belly. I never felt them move within her. I never got to kiss their tiny fingers and toes or hold them as newborn babies. She denied me those opportunities. I’ll never forgive her for that. Never.” His last words catch in his throat.
I run my hand through his hair, smoothing it back to look at his handsome face. “I’m sorry she denied you all those things.” I close my eyes momentarily, breathing in and out slowly. I can give him this. I can share my story with him and hope that someday he can forgive Johanna.
I massage the back of his head which rests against my belly as he continues to shower me with tender kisses. “It was scary … and absolutely wonderful at the same time.” My words are quietly spoken.
His back rises and falls, breathing sharply, as he waits for me to tell my story.
“I was terrified when I found out I was pregnant. I was a twenty year old college student. God knows I wasn’t ready to become a mother. I had my whole life ahead of me. My parents were so angry. They said we were careless and irresponsible to think that we could bring a child into this world when we were just kids ourselves.” I shake my head at the memory. “Dylan’s father was too drunk to care. But we loved each other—at least, I thought we did. I thought we would get married after the baby was born and make things work.”
Adam looks up at me and I see his face transform from interest to remorse. It makes me a little sad that we were willing to marry other people for the sake of our unborn children. At least Dylan and I were a couple. Adam asked Johanna to marry him even though he didn’t love her. I don’t think either marriage would have lasted.
“He left school and started working full time for my dad at the DeGennaro’s plant to save money. He came to a few of the doctor’s appointments with me.” I shake my head in quiet disbelief. “When he saw the heartbeat on the screen, he broke down in tears.” I remember wondering if he was crying because he was happy to see his baby girl’s tiny heart beating or was he sad because the reality that he got me pregnant and was going to become a father was too much to handle. I realized years later that he probably couldn’t believe the situation he was in—two girls and two babies. That would be a lot for anyone to handle, I guess.
“I wanted to go back to school and finish the semester, only coming home for my appointments. My mother insisted that I come home and go to the local community college, but I argued with her saying that I was on a full scholarship and was determined to finish school.”
“The first time I felt her move, I was lying on my bed reading, studying for the final exam for a summer class I was taking. It was like a quick flutter. It happened so fast I almost missed it. She must’ve liked when I was resting because that’s when she moved the most.” I reach down and circle my navel.
“I wish it had been me and you.” Adam whispers as rests his head on my belly again. “Our lives could’ve been so different.”
“We weren’t meant to meet then. It’s our time now—with Maddie and Luke.”
“I would never have done those things to you, Mia. Never. I would have loved you and married you.”
I offer a small smile while my fingers play with his dark, wavy hair wishing his words were true, but the fact is that we probably wouldn’t have worked out either.
“I love you.” He kisses my belly.
“I know you do.”
“I will always protect you no matter what.” The conviction in his voice is strong.
I smile at his words. “Okay.”
LATE SUNDAY MORNING brings a renewed sense of purpose, a new beginning to us. I awake enveloped in Adam’s arms, holding me close. His promised words to never let her or anyone else hurt me again were reassuring but brought on another deluge of tears.
“Come shower with me.” I’m pulled out of bed and carted off to the vast marbled shower.
Hot water rains down on us while Adam’s hands wash away tears and some of the guilt I felt for not being completely honest with him about my past. “Shhh, stop with the crying.”
“I can’t... I just love you so much.” I hiccup.
“I know, baby. I love you, too. Turn around so I can wash your back.”
His hands travel across my shoulders, down my back and over my backside to my legs, rubbing circles in every direction. He lowers himself to squat to wash my feet and the front of my legs. Rising slowly, he washes my stomach and my breasts before angling my head against his shoulder to kiss my neck. “You are everything I never knew I wanted.”
With shampoo in his hands, he lathers and washes my hair before he applies conditioner. Over my shoulders to my breasts, Adam caresses me, pulling my back to his front. His need for me is evident as he circles his hips, pushing himself into me. The marble is cold against my breasts as hot water pours down on us. The heat of our bodies makes me forget about the hard surface. He warms my body, he warms my heart.
***
I DRIVE HOME THAT afternoon instead of taking Adam up on his offer to go with him to pick up the kids from their grandparents. I haven’t met them yet. I’m not sure I’m quite ready to meet Johanna’s parents.
I change the station on the radio after the weather forecast calls for an early winter with lots of sn
ow, warning drivers to take it easy on the roadways. Two inches fell overnight and cover my driveway. I park the Jeep and walk over to get Brady back from Mrs. Longo before going into my house. I was thankful that Adam called her last night and asked if she’d keep Brady because he knew that I wouldn’t want him to be alone all night.
The freshly fallen snow is beautiful, hanging onto the branches of the evergreen trees, pulling their branches low to create a Winter Wonderland. Mr. Longo shoveled a narrow path on the walkway leading up to their back door.
“Come in, darling.” Mrs. Longo ushers me in from the cold where Brady yelps frantically on the other side of the door. I drop to my knees and let him shower me with kisses. “Hey, buddy. I missed you, boy. I’m sorry Mama wasn’t home last night.”
“Thank you for keeping him.” I hug her thin body.
“Oh, honey, you’re quite welcome. Any time. You know that.”
I accept her offer for a cup of coffee and we sit in her tidy kitchen. Mr. Longo snores quietly in the living room with the TV still on.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is everything okay?” she asks as she cuts and serves me a generous slice of pumpkin bread.
“It is now.” I simply smile. “Thank you.”
I dunk the corner piece of my bread into the cup of coffee and smile. “This is delicious. Adam would love this. You’ll have to give me the recipe, but if I eat any more of this, I’ll have to put myself on a diet.”
“Speaking of diet. Did you change Brady’s food or anything?” What an odd question. Why would she care what food I’m feeding my dog? She must see the puzzled look on my face because she explains her inquiry.
“The reason I’m asking is Brady kept me up half the night, yelping and barking to go outside.” He has been doing that a lot recently, waking up in the wee hours of the morning. Those damn wild animals are driving him insane.