Rise

by Leslie McCauley

  Chapter 25

  Time

  The next six months are a complete and total blur. My days are filled with solitude. I have barely spoken to Jessica since her wedding. I don’t know if it’s because of my socially awkward behavior, or her busy married life. Unfortunately, the thought has not consumed me much. I have been focused on one thing and one thing only, my revenge. I spend nearly every day at the shooting range and have become a pro. I have upgraded from that .38 special to a beautiful .357 Magnum. I decided to stick with this one because I feel most comfortable with it. Hank has become a close friend. Even though I only see him at the shooting range. He jokes that because I am there so much, I single-handedly am paying his salary. He is probably right. Luckily, I can use my credit card to pay for my addiction.

  Finally, in the last few months, I have been able to start paying my bills again but barely. I have been selling some of my photographs. Mostly I have been doing candid photos. I have kept my camera with me at all times and if I see a moment that I feel needs to be captured, I do it. I have had a few shots of mourners in the cemetery. My parents have made me aware that they think this is morbid, but not me. And not the people I have taken the photos of. The first photo I took in the cemetery that wasn’t of Evan’s headstone, was of an old woman. She was kneeling at a grave with a rosary in her praying hands. I couldn’t hear her, but I could see her mouth moving as she wept.

  I took as many shots as I could, without her knowing. After printing them I kept them close when I visited Evan. One day she was there again, and I showed her what I had taken. She began crying as she flipped through them. I was scared that I had offended her but then she looked up at me with the slightest grin. She pulled me into a surprising embrace. After speaking with her about it, she told me that it captured another intimate moment with what turned out to be her husband. She told me it made her feel closer to him.

  From that day I decided to catch people in a moment. I have snapped shots of couples walking down the street, in love and unaware anyone was watching. People playing with their children in the park and weddings from afar. I always approach my subjects after and give them my card. From then on, I have had a little business. I haven’t sold much right now, but it is something that I like doing. I feel like it captures a special time for people, that they would not otherwise get to hold onto. I am most proud of the moments with a parent and their child.

  I have also put together my most prized possession which is an album of all the photos I have ever taken of Evan. Whenever I am missing him, I crawl into his crib and flip through it. Sadly, the smell of him is gone, but his room remains the same. My parents have offered many times to help me change it, but I refuse. His room is the last that remains of my son and I am not ready to give it up. I don’t think I ever will.

  Right now, I am on my way to my other consuming role in my life lately and that is of the support group. I have spoken minimally at the meetings, but it is helpful to know that someone has listened. I have not brought myself to look at anyone in my group. I don’t want to connect their faces with their sadness. I know them only by their shoes and their stories.

  When I arrive I take to my normal seat. Slutty Heels, which I now feel bad calling her, is seated directly in front of me today. I listened to her story finally and found that she had twin boys and lost one of them to SIDS. He was 2 months old. Her depression from losing one child had spiraled so out of control, that her husband was forced to leave her and take primary custody of their other son. She sees him only every other week, he is now seven. She is still without a romantic relationship and in a deep depression. Hearing the pain in her voice makes me want to try someday to be happy again. I don’t want to be this lost soul five years from now.

  Adidas man I have not heard yet. I tune him out for some reason. White Orthopedic and Wingback, I have discovered, are an old married couple and lost a child when they were in their twenties and unfortunately lost a grandchild as well. They began the meetings shortly after their grandchild passed because it brought up so many feelings of their own loss. The woman is the one who usually speaks but occasionally the man does. It makes me so sad when he speaks. He cries every time. It is very apparent that Orthopedic Shoes is the strong one.

  The mood here today seems even more depressing than normal. I suppose the fact that Evan’s anniversary is a few days away is the reason. I decide since this is my last meeting before then I should probably open up a bit. A break in the silence is that of the director. I don’t remember his name and I don’t care. “We only have a few minutes left if anyone else would like to speak today?”

  I stand without giving anyone else a chance. I saunter up to the podium my eyes glued to my own feet. White Nike tennis shoes with navy blue and pink trim. I smile to myself. I wonder what my own nickname would be in here. When I am safely standing in front of the group, I take a deep breath and begin. “Hello everyone. My name is Nettie.”

  “Hello Nettie.” They say in unison. Just like AA or something.

  I continue with a shaky voice. I am nervous today. “I know I have spoken just a little bit about my son, but I felt like sharing a little more today. His birthday was recently and that was a hard day for me, but even worse is the anniversary of his death is just a few days away,” tears threaten, and I have a choking sensation in my throat. I take a moment to swallow it down and begin speaking again.

  “Evan was not a planned pregnancy by any means, and it took me time to be happy about having a baby. I thought if it happened, it was meant to be. He became my world. My reason for living. Everything revolved around him. When he was taken from me, I questioned everything. I questioned God. I questioned my own judgment to have him. My whole existence was turned upside down. I guess I just want to know…” tears are streaming down my cheeks before I even realize. “Will it ever get any better?” I am full out sobbing now and I can’t speak anymore. I can hear my own sobs as well as sniffling from some other group members.

  “Yes, it will. The pain doesn’t go away...ever. But it does get better.” This voice is the most comforting voice I have ever heard. It is Adidas and I don’t know if it is what he said or the sound of his smooth voice, but I want to match a face with the feet. Slowly my eyes move up his body to his face. When I look up, he looks familiar to me though my eyes are clouded with tears. I wipe them away with my hands and as I focus, I see the most beautiful chocolate brown eyes I have ever seen, again.

  “Lincoln?” I whisper. Oh my God, it is Evan’s pediatrician. All this time he has been a few feet from me. Why then didn’t he ever approach me? I don’t understand. And what is his story? I have never heard him. Suddenly, Director Comb Over interrupts my pure shock.

  “Nettie, we are out of time I am sorry. If you need anything this week feel free to call.” What an asshole. I wipe away my tears feeling like an idiot. See, this is why I don’t talk much.

  The group breaks up and begins to leave, but not Lincoln. He remains in his seat with a kind smile on his face. I walk over to him and take a seat directly in the row in front of him. I turn around so that we are face to face. God, he is the most beautiful man I have ever seen. His hair is a bit disheveled, but in a good way. We both sit for a beat, not saying a word. I can feel warmth spread down my cheeks and I am crying again. Finally, he speaks.

  “Hi.” That’s all, just hi?

  “Hi.” Is my reply. Good comeback idiot! “Why haven’t you ever spoken to me before?” I finally ask.

  “What do you mean? I was wondering why you haven’t spoken to ME. I thought maybe you just didn’t want to be bothered. Or that I must have made a terrible impression on you.” I giggle at him. Just the opposite I think to myself.

  “No, I um, well to be honest. I haven’t even looked at anyone in this group. I felt like I needed to be disconnected a little, I guess,” I shrug my shoulders.

  “Oh, well I guess that makes sense, it’s strange, but makes sense,” he hesitates. “I don’t mean to be forward but can we
maybe go get some dinner. I mean finally after almost year you have acknowledged that I exist and, well you seem like you need more time than you got here,” he looks around the room and I see what he means. Everyone has picked up and gone already and it’s just the two of us.

  “Sure, I’d like that.” Wow, what a change in my day. A normal depressing fucked up day in the life of Nettie Madison is ending with dinner. And not just dinner, but dinner with gorgeous, sexy and apparently sensitive Dr. Lincoln Connors.

  He holds his hand out to me and I take it without hesitation. Why do I feel so comfortable with this man? He smiles when our skin touches and so do I. I feel a connection with him. I wonder if he feels the same. He has been in the same room with me every week for nearly a year and I had no idea. From the way he spoke, he wanted me to talk to him.

  We walk instead of drive to a nearby sandwich shop. I order a bowl of soup and he gets a sandwich. We both opt for coffee since it is cold tonight. We both eat in silence for a while and what’s strange about the situation is that I feel completely comfortable with the silence. I occasionally glance up at him and each time he is looking directly at me. He has the gentlest eyes I have ever seen. I suddenly realize that I have rudely not listened to his story in group. I finally speak first.

  “Lincoln…”

  “Linc, please,” he interrupts me.

  “Linc. Your daughter. You spoke about her the first time we met. She died of SIDS as well?”

  He looks confused. “I have spoken about it in meetings, numerous times. Yes, she did. When she was nearly a year old.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry I should explain. I don’t usually listen in group. I simply started going for the comfort of knowing I wasn’t alone, but I didn’t want the added depression of everyone else’s story,” I blush in pure embarrassment. “I apologize. I know that sounds very selfish.”

  “No, it’s not selfish at all. I didn’t speak for a while when I first started going. You have to get comfortable with everyone, I guess. And you don’t go for them you go for you,” he pauses then sighs. “So, you don’t know anything about me?”

  I shake my head no. “Sorry.”

  “Stop with the sorrys,” he lets out a small giggle. “Well, do you want to know the whole story? I mean I don’t want to depress you on top of your own story.”

  My “story”. That sounds so cold. “No, I feel like I need to. I mean if you don’t mind, of course?”

  “No, not at all,” he takes a deep breath and starts. “Well, my wife and I had our only child a little over three years ago.” Oh, wife. Damn! “We named her Madelynn, after my wife’s mother.” He adds. “She was perfect, amazing actually. I know everyone thinks that of their own children, but she really was. She slept through the night almost immediately. She only cried when she was hungry. A perfect baby,” he sounds so happy when he speaks about her. I want to ask what she looked like, but I don’t want to interrupt him.

  “When she was eleven months old, I was watching her while my wife went for lunch with a few friends. She was taking a nap in her crib and I decided to lay down myself. I must have zonked out because the next thing I know, my wife was screaming bloody murder.” I visibly see him shudder at the thought. I am reminded of my own screams the morning I found Evan. “It was too late by the time my wife found her. There was nothing that could have been done. As a doctor, the rational part of me knew it wasn’t my fault, but as a father, I thought the exact opposite. Now after group, I can say it wasn’t my fault.” I can tell he is trying to convince himself of this fact. He stops talking and looks down into his coffee cup.

  “I am so sorry, Linc.” I want to reach across the table and squeeze his hand, but I feel like that would be inappropriate given the fact that we are really strangers.

  He clears his throat and continues. “It doesn’t get much easier telling the story. Like I told you in there though…” he points in the direction of the hospital, “it does get easier. It is still painful for me every day,” a tear finally lets go and falls down his cheek. “But I can function now. I can go to work. I can see my friends. I can do happy things without feeling guilty about it.”

  “What about your wife. How has she coped with it?” He looks surprised by my question.

  “Well, she didn’t cope well. She blamed me. I blamed me. She left shortly after Maddy passed away. She couldn’t stand to look at me anymore. She had my eyes; the baby,” he wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. God, he has beautiful hands. “She hated me, and we divorced only three months later.” He looks so broken. This time I do reach out and grab his hand giving it a gentle squeeze. I see him blush as I do.

  “That must have made it twice as hard on you. Not having her to lean on,” I whisper.

  “Yeah, it was the worst year of my life. But about six months after that I started coming to the meetings and it really did help. To talk about it. To talk about Maddy and Lynn.”

  “Lynn?” I ask.

  “Oh, my wife.” Of course. “But you know not everything in the group is depressing. I mean, we talk about the good things that have happened since tragedy and it really does give hope for a future. You should really listen next time,” he gives me a small wink.

  I smile for the first time in a hell of a long time. A real smile. I feel shy all of a sudden and feel the need to speak.

  “So, tell me. What are some happy things that have happened to you since then?” He looks at me and I can tell he is thinking.

  “Well, I have a job that I absolutely love. I have a wonderful and supportive family. And I have been making some really great friends lately.” I hope I can be added to that list. I think we can be friends. More than friends, I hope. Then it occurs to me that he doesn’t know my whole story. Or does he? He was at the hospital when the baby was born. I wonder if anyone told him. I decide not to ask now. If he doesn’t know, I am in no way in the mood to explain.

  I look up at the clock and it is getting late. Not that I have anywhere to be tomorrow. I just don’t want the subject to turn to me.

  “Well, I appreciate you sitting with me and telling me about all you’ve been through. Even with Evan’s anniversary coming up, I feel like maybe there is some hope for me in the future. Thank you.” He gives me that gorgeous, warm smile again.

  “Anytime Nettie, really.” I love to hear him say my name. His voice is comforting as he does. He has a strong but soothing voice. “Give me your cell phone.” He catches me off guard, but I hand it over to him. He punches something in, and I hear a beeping sound. “There.” He hands it back to me. “I put my number in. Anytime you need someone to talk to, day or night you can call me okay?”

  “Yeah, thank you again. I will.” I hope I do. I want to see him again. And not just at the meetings. Just then he stands, and I follow suit. Oh, I guess we are leaving. Suddenly I don’t want to go. He leans toward me and for a moment I have no idea what he is doing, and I reach my arms around him and give him an awkward hug. He giggles and as he does, I realize he was reaching for my coat. How fucking humiliating! I feel my face turn bright red. “Oh, my God. I am so sorry that was wildly inappropriate. I just thought you were…I don’t know what I thought. I am so embarrassed!” I throw my hands over my face. I want to crawl into a hole! I hear him laughing and he grabs my hands.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not inappropriate I was just going to help you get your coat on first.” He places it back on the chair and this time slips both of his arms around my waist and pulls me into a gentle comforting hug. I embrace him back, wrapping my arms around his strong shoulders. For some reason, this doesn’t feel strange at all. It feels wonderful. His wavy hair tickles my nose before we let go. As we pull back from one another our eyes lock. I feel that butterfly feeling that I felt the first time we met. He has such kind eyes. I want to see him again.

  “Well, I hope we can see each other again,” I say before I chicken out.

  “Me too. And not just at group,” he grins that sexy grin again. He read
my mind.

  He helps me to put my coat on and we both walk out together. We exchange a quick goodbye. We begin walking in opposite directions to our cars. I want to turn and look at him so badly but fight the urge. When I near my car the need has overwhelmed me, and I finally risk a quick glance. Just then he turns to look at me as well. He smiles a wide smile this time and I realize he has a dimple on his left cheek. I hadn’t noticed that before. I smile back and he waves before getting into his own car. I give a small embarrassed wave and get in mine.

  The entire way home I cannot stop thinking of him. I haven’t been this giddy in a long time. I haven’t been this, dare I say it, almost happy since before I lost Evan. This is what he meant by it gets better. I wish we had stayed longer. I want to hear his voice again. I start to feel almost anxious about it. I enjoy everything about him. His looks, his voice, the way he loved his daughter, and the way I felt when we hugged. I felt so safe and so comforted. We have such a natural connection but not only that we know what the other has been through. No one can possibly know the pain of losing a child unless they have lost one themselves. It is a feeling that is completely indescribable. I wonder when I will see him again.

  Once I arrive home, I am still going over our conversation. What a bitch his wife was for leaving him when he was is so much pain too. I am going to have to tell him about my situation eventually. I am surprised he didn’t ask me tonight. Then again that makes me wonder yet again if he already knows. But if he did, he must be crazy for approaching me. If he knows how totally damaged I am, you would think he would try and steer clear.

  As I lay in bed, his face is still burning into my brain. That beautiful dimple and the smile he gave me right before we left. Something sweet to dream about, I think. This is silly! What if he just intends on being friends? Although, he did say I could call anytime. I shake my head. He only said that to be supportive. Like if I was having a bad day or something. Well, every day is a bad day, right? So, I guess I could call him tomorrow. I roll onto my side with a grin on my face. “Sleep Nettie, just sleep.”