by K. S. Adkins
Days of this wasn’t going to be enough. Maybe years wouldn’t be enough, either. My fear is it will never be enough. I’m angry I took Ben off life support. I’m angry because he didn’t even know it was me who ended his life. I was impatient. I should have waited until he gained consciousness and did it up close and personal so he saw me when he took his last breath. His death wasn’t enough for me. Sitting here in my son’s nursery, I still won’t touch anything. I just sit here in a rocking chair listening to Eminem. He’s right, every word is fucking right on. I am standing in the flames, and it is a beautiful kind of pain, and I need to find the light, but I’m too god damned afraid. I’m still pissed.
If I know anything, it’s loss. Even dealing with blow after blow in life, I’ve never had a loss like this. My husband needs me, we need each other, but how do I put this behind me? Is it selfish to move on and be happy? How do I rebuild after something like this? How do I fucking forgive myself?
This morning, I woke up determined to break the cycle. All day I try to get his attention, but he avoids me now. As depression sets in again. I realize this, too, is my fault. I pushed him away, I forced him to suffer alone. I have so many sins stacked against me it’s a struggle to breathe. So instead of bothering him, I go into my lab, close the door and start the process of transferring all of my research to flash drives and getting it in the right hands. It may not be closure, but it is a step, and for me, it’s a big one. My dreams of contributing to medical science are no longer. My dream caused chaos and destruction, and I didn’t want to be attached to it anymore. If I wasn’t so focused to listening to this song on repeat and copying my data I’d have known my husband was sitting outside of the room wondering where he went wrong, and if it was even possible to get me back. Had I known this I would have told him he holds no fault here, this is all on me, and that I just needed a little more time.
The loss, the pain and the distance is all on my shoulders. Had I known he was out there suffering, too, I’d have sat next to him and told him he was only wrong about one thing. If someone was ever too good for anyone, it’s that he was too good for me. My husband deserves better. He deserve a wife who could save their baby, who isn’t selfish, and who can admit when she is wrong. All along he’s said I wasn’t cut out for this, and he was right. I’m weak. And it was my weakness that has me sitting in here alone, oblivious to him missing me, his wife.
Each day she’s slipping further away from me. She’s obsessed with sitting in the nursery at night, listening to music. She isn’t sleeping, and because she ain’t in bed with me where she belongs, I ain’t sleeping either. When she gets in there, she’s so zoned out she doesn’t even notice me watching her. Sometimes she closes her eyes, but mostly she stares at the empty crib and twirls her wedding band around on her finger. For the last two nights, though, she sits there in that rocking chair and just fucking cries.
Last night I finally broke down and called my partner. Told him what was going on and how it was killing me. He asked if we’ve talked about it since we’ve been home and I told him the truth. At first, Macy was trying to talk about it, but since I couldn’t fix it and wasn’t handling it well myself, I shut her down. So that’s on me, my inability to deal caused her to sit in here alone and deal with it herself. Problem is, I don’t think she’s dealing. I think she’s torturing herself. I just don’t know why.
I’m sick out sitting outside doors. But she’s hurting, so until she does otherwise, this is where I sit. Rogan said I need to talk to her and tell her how I feel, but I’m a pussy. He told me we all deal with shit in our way, but we’re a couple and we need to deal with this shit together. I promise myself tonight I’ll go into the nursery and sit with her; I’ll do whatever it takes to make us better. Around ten o’clock Venessa texts me. She say when Macy goes into the nursery to text her. Lying in bed with Macy I do everything I can to keep her there. I snuggle with her, play with her hair, rub her back, and if anything, I make it worse. She can’t keep still, she gets agitated, and I know it’s because she isn’t going to rest until she goes back into the nursery. The second I stop touching her, she is out of bed, down the hall, in that rocking chair, and I am texting Venessa.
Minutes later, they both show up. I let them in and fall to the couch with my head in my hands. Part of me is embarrassed because I need backup, but the other part knows I need the fucking backup. Breaking up my pity party, Venessa chimes in.
“When life gets tough I hide, too,” she says. “You’ve seen it for yourself, Rafe. Macy isn’t a quitter. I know she’s in there trying to figure out what she could have done differently. She’s blaming herself and she’s grieving. She’s used to handling her own shit, and by hiding out, she thinks she’s taking it off your shoulders, yeah? Give me some time with her.”
“Yeah,” I tell her, because what else is there to say?
When she walks off Rogan takes the chair in front of me. When he puts his big arms on his knees I knew we’re about to have us a talk.
“When she comes out, I’d like to have a shot at her, too, if that’s cool with you,” he says.
“Yeah.”
“Partner, sometimes we fuck shit up,” he says. “We think we know what we’re doing, but we never fucking do. We got ourselves tough women, but they still need their men, too. Thing is, we gotta learn when to let them do their thing and when to step in and show them how it’s gonna be. She loves you, you love her. You gotta fill that gap, man. Ain’t gonna be easy, but if anyone can do it, it’s you two.”
“Jesus,” I say, shaking my head. “It freaks me out when you start speaking in full sentences. When did you get it all figured out?”
“Never claimed to have it all figured out,” he tells me. “I watch her, learn from her, and when she’s doin’ shit, she shouldn’t or needs me, I’m there. It’s my job to bring her back, so I do. Every fucking time.”
“I need my wife back, partner,” I tell him. “I want to fix her.”
“She ain’t broke, partner,” he tells me. “Stop trying to fix her and work on your own shit. You ain’t dealing with this at all. It ain’t just about her. It’s about you, too. Stop focusing on Macy. She’s in there trying to deal because she knows you ain’t dealing. It ain’t fair that she’s in there trying to figure out how to make it better for both of you. She needs your help.”
“Shit,” I whisper to myself. “I ain’t ever gonna get this right.”
“The fact that you’re thinking you won’t tells me you will.”
“What does that even mean?”
“What I just fucking said. You listening to me at all?”
Just as I’m about to snap his neck, Venessa walks out with red eyes and taps Rogan on the shoulder. He gets up, kisses her on the mouth, and heads back to my wife. Venessa sits down, pulls her legs up, and tells me like she always tells me, straight.
“She’s worried about you,” she says. “You’re avoiding her.”
“I don’t know what to do,” I tell her honestly. “I’m not avoiding her on purpose. She just looks so fucking sad and lost and then she touches her stomach and I —”
“Remember I said if she was going to let anyone help her, it’d be you? I wasn’t joking. She needs you Rafe, and you need her, too. You both have to deal with this, or you’ll never move forward. It’s easy to pretend; it’s even easier to hide. Thing is, you’re both hiding from each other. We’re leaving in a few. When we do, you need to go get your wife and bring her back.”
“He said the same thing.”
“Yeah, well, he’s wicked fucking smart.”
Nodding my head, I turn the band on my finger, wanting them both to leave so I can be near her. I’m not sure what I’m going to say or how I’ll make her leave that room, but it wasn’t too long ago, Macy told me she couldn’t be near me and not be near me anymore. Jesus, how did I let this go this far?
Lost in thought, Rogan comes out, grabs Venessa, and without a word they both leave. Standing up, I can’t get to th
at room fast enough.
Something has got to give. Today feels different, like I’m on the cusp of something. While the music plays, I rock in the chair and close my eyes. I feel one of my ear buds being removed, and when I open my eyes, it’s Venessa.
“This is powerful shit, yeah?” she says, putting one in her ear
“I’m addicted to it,” I tell her.
“Yeah, I can see that,” she says. “How long you plan on hiding in here, Macy?”
“Until the pain stops long enough to breathe,” I tell her. “Until I can figure out how to stop blaming myself, until I can figure out how to get through to Jonas.”
“How’s that working out?”
“Not well,” I tell her, taking her hand and putting it on my belly. “I feel empty, V. Hollow.”
Taking her hand back, she moves it and places it over my heart. “From where I’m sitting, you look pretty full, Macy. You’ve got love in here. I love you, Rogue loves you, and that husband of yours is pretty lost without you right now. That emptiness isn’t forever, you know. I mean, I don’t know what it feels like, but I know emptiness can be filled.”
“He won’t talk about it.”
“Did you ever think it’s because he doesn’t know how? That maybe he needs you to walk him through it? I’m thinking he needs you to lead the way, Macy. The loss is different for him. Tell him how it is for you and see where it goes.”
“I’m so angry, V,” I whisper. “This is my fault, all of it. He’s suffering because of me and my choices. I mean, you’re all suffering because of me. It’s a lot to take in, owning up to my mistakes and knowing because of what I did, I no longer have our baby. It’s because of me that I’m lost and drowning in guilt.”
“It’s your fault that by doing good you caught the eye of an evil fucker? He’s responsible for this, not you. Rafe told me how you protected your baby and those women. Evil did this to you, Macy. Don’t fucking forget that. This isn’t the first time you’ve been dealt a shitty hand. Odds are it won’t be the last, either. Sometimes I think it’s the strongest people that get dealt the harshest hands. You’re here, he isn’t. You can move on, you know, it’s okay.”
“I miss my husband, V.”
“Not any more than he misses his wife, Macy.” She takes the ear bud out, putting it back in my ear, then leans in and whispers, “Love you, Macy. We need you to come back.”
Then she stands up, walks out, and closes the door. Closing my eyes I hear the door open and see Rogan walk in. Taking my Skulls out he sits down and takes my hand.
“What happened to you ain’t fair,” he grumbles. “The shit you have to deal with from it ain’t fair, either. You gotta know my partner is out there missing his wife, wants to make it better for her, but don’t know how. There ain’t no wrong way to do this, Macy, but the days of you sittin’ in here punishing yourself are over. You need to get a handle on your shit, I get that, but this ain’t the way to do it. Talk to your husband, tell him how you feel. Work it out and move on. You wanna do that, right?”
Nodding my head I let the tears fall. “It’s my fault,” I tell him.
“Ain’t none of this your fault. Ain’t his, either,” he says. “The world is full of fucked-up people, you know that. You see it just like we do. Don’t let them win. Fight back, Macy. You ain’t never quit nothin’. Don’t fucking start now when you got something worth fightin’ for sittin’ in the other room.”
I nod again, squeezing his hand hard. Looking up at him, he smiles, which is rare, and he really does have a beautiful smile. I can see how Venessa go nuts for it. “Thanks, Rogan, for —”
“You ain’t gotta thank me,” he says. “The four of us got something special. We fight for what’s good, and we won’t ever quit fucking fighting. We’re here to fight with you. Don’t you fucking forget that. I gotta go now, but remember I’ve seen you fight, Macy. You’re unstoppable when you got a cause. I know this for a fucking fact.”
Kissing my cheek he walks out, closing the door behind him.
The second I heard the door click I made a decision. Standing up I walk over to my son’s empty crib, pick up his stuffed bear, and make him a promise. “I will love you my whole life,” I say. “If we ever have more kids they won’t replace you, but we’ll make sure they know how much we love you. You brought us something good for a short time and then you were taken from us, and I still feel you here,” I say, rubbing my belly. “I wonder if I’ll always feel you there. You lost your life, little one, and maybe one day I’ll forgive myself for not protecting you better, so I want to tell you that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t do better.”
Closing my eyes, I fight back a few tears while pulling the bear close to me. Then I feel his arms around me and before I can open my eyes he says what’s on his heart. “We’ll both love you our whole lives,” he whispers. “I should have protected your mother better, and maybe one day I’ll forgive myself for failing you both.” Squeezing me to him, he continues. ”I loved you from the second your mother said she was pregnant, and I’ll feel the loss for the rest of my life. But I need to help your mom move on, son. We won’t forget you, but we have to find a reason to smile again. I need to make her smile. Her smile is everything to me.”
“Jonas,” I whisper, putting my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“Princess,” he says, “we both feel guilty for something neither of us did. We’ve suffered enough, haven’t we? I know this ain’t gonna be easy, but we gotta try. I promise to listen, to talk it out. If I do that, will you still try for me?”
“Yes.”
“We gotta long way to go,” he says, “but we’ll get there, I promise.”
“You make the best promises, Captain.”
“I fucking missed hearing that,” he says, pulling me into a hug.
“I haven’t been a good wife,” I confess.
“Bullshit,” he says. “You’re the strong one. I keep telling you that. It ain’t fair of me to put all this on you. I’m gonna try harder, all right? For now, let’s go grab something to eat. Whaddya say? How does late-night heartburn sound?”
“Amazing,” I tell him, kissing his cheek.
“Well then, that’s a start,” he says, leading from the room, and when we get to the door he takes the bear, walks over to the crib, and sets it safely back in the corner.
Walking back to me he holds me again, leading me out into the hall. Closing the door, he takes my hand and whispers, “I miss carrying you, Princess. I’m looking real forward to that.”
Taking a deep breath I realize I was too, so I tell him as much. Patiently walking me out to the truck, he lifts me up and takes me out to Coney. I’d like to say we’re talkative and that we bounced right back, but the truth is, we don’t. But this is a good first step. Looking around the diner, no one knows us or of our loss. They have their own lives, their own problems, and to them, we are just two people out to eat.
We started small. We started with dinner. We connected through people-watching while holding hands. I decided I could hold her hands forever. She tightened her grip when a young couple came in with a baby in one of those carrier things, but I squeezed her back and she worked her way through it. For a while we watched them with their young. Smiling at it, talking to it, and trying to eat while keeping an eye on it. Those are things I still hope to do someday.
Shit if my biggest problem in life is watching my kid so my wife can eat, I’ll fucking take it. When the kid started to cry both of them kicked in and calmed it down. Glancing at my wife, it was good to see her smiling. We all got different kinds of luck. Right now, even with all the bullshit that’s gone down, loose ends to tie up, and a job I have to get back to, I still feel lucky. She tells me over a plate of chili fries that she’d like to go back to work soon, too. She hasn’t set a date yet, but caring for people is who she is, I get that. Until then, we’ll continue to work things out.
My job of changing her bandages is one I take seriously. Every time I t
ake them off I kiss her belly and throw up a thank-you for her being here with me. When I’m done patching her up she covers herself in lotion, pulls her hair up, puts her glasses on, grabs one of my shirts, and crawls into bed to rest.
Having her next to me, hearing her breathing even out and knowing she’ll be here with me when I wake up is the only reason I’m able to fall asleep. Problem is, I can’t stay asleep. Nightmares grab hold of me every fucking night now. To keep from waking her I creep to the couch, waiting to crash again. The night I found her in the basement will haunt me for the rest of my life. The look on her face when she saw me, then him, then when she keeled over, it’s just too much for me. She’s been trapped and beaten in a basement twice in the months I’ve known her. The thought of her ever walking into a basement again gives me a panic attack.
My biggest fear is her being taken away from me again. That’s it, I’m putting it out there. That’s what keeps me up at night. She suffered while she was gone, no doubt, but knowing my wife was suffering and I couldn’t get to her is a demon that’s going to ride me the rest of my life. Every time she walks out that door she’s at risk. I’m struggling with that, too. Fuck, I’m struggling with all of it.
But I’m also determined to do what needs to be done to give my wife her life back. This ain’t about me. It’s about her. Keeping her safe, no matter the cost. If I gotta spend my nights on the couch so she can rest, I’ll do it.