If Forever Comes

by A. L. Jackson

  Christian ~ Early June, Four Months Earlier

  Wracked, broken sobs beat into my chest where her face was buried. I stood at the side of the bed, bent over her as I cradled her head in the crook of my arm. My other arm was mashed between us, our hands clasped, clutching, searching for anything to ease this pain.

  My head spun with confusion. A disordered chaos rained down like a raging storm, a flood sent to ruin and destroy.

  Elizabeth clamped down on my hand as she wept. She pressed her face deeper into my shirt. Her mouth gaped open as she cried out, “No.”

  Dizziness swept through me. It amplified the shock that clung like a torpid haze to my muddled mind. A sharp stab of sickness twisted my gut, so strong it almost brought me to my knees.

  No.

  Elizabeth’s doctor’s voice broke through. “I know you don’t want to do this, Elizabeth, but I need you to. Just one little push, okay? All we need is one tiny push and it’ll all be over.” Dr. Montieth coaxed her, the woman’s tone sympathetic as she persuaded Elizabeth into succumbing to what she didn’t want to do.

  “I can’t,” Elizabeth wailed again. Her tears soaked through my shirt as she wept against my chest. She squeezed my hand so tightly it constricted the blood flow, her fingernails cutting into the skin at the back of my hand.

  I tightened my hold on her. I would give anything to stop this. Would give up my life, would give up my soul.

  No.

  Desperately I searched inside myself for a way to give her comfort. I wanted to tell her it would be all right. I tried to say it, but the lie only wedged in my throat.

  It wouldn’t be all right.

  Instead I begged, “Shh…baby…shh,” through a choked whisper at her ear, completely helpless. Utterly and completely helpless. Powerless to do a goddamned thing but stand here and watch our world fall apart.

  “Yes, you can, Elizabeth. I need you to do this for me,” Dr. Montieth prodded. Her voice was both soft and firm.

  Elizabeth screamed as her body gave in. She cried out into my shirt that was drenched with her tears. I clutched her by the back of her head, held her closer, let her sobs tear and rend and destroy as they sliced though me.

  Cold slipped through my veins as an anguished stillness seized the room.

  Breaths were held in the second my heart broke.

  God, I’d dreamed about this moment since the second Elizabeth and I had stood in her bathroom with that test, while joy had consumed us as we’d hoped for this future. Pages upon pages had been dog-eared in that fucking book I kept on my nightstand, the one I’d studied as if it were the Bible, so I’d be familiar with every detail. I wanted to be prepared to support Elizabeth, wanted to be prepared to welcome our little girl into this world.

  But I never could have been prepared for this.

  Absent were the cheers of encouragement. Absent was the rally of support. There was no urgent thrill and there was no joy radiating from these walls.

  Instead, stifled air bore down from above, smothering, suffocating, a silence so thick it echoed from the cold, sterile floor.

  It was penetrated only by the deep, agonized cries that ripped from Elizabeth.

  In it was chaos, mayhem in my mind. Because I could make no sense of this.

  Because it was senseless. Wrong. Unimaginable.

  Part of me didn’t want to see, the other couldn’t look away. My hold was fierce as I clutched Elizabeth, keeping her face hidden in my chest as if I could shield her from the cruelty that played out before my eyes.

  And there were no shrill cries that welcomed her into this world.

  There was just an unbearable stillness and the most excruciating pain I’d ever experienced in my life.

  On a disposable blue pad, Elizabeth’s doctor held our lifeless child in her hands.

  Blood stained her, covered her whole, this little girl that already held my heart. My vision blurred. She was so small. God, she was so small. So thin. The cord that was supposed to have sustained her life, but had instead snubbed it out, was still connected to her belly, still connected to Elizabeth.

  Vomit pooled, and I forced it down as I stumbled through the fog that tumbled and whirled. Somewhere within myself, I fought for coherency, screamed at myself to wake up, because this had to be nightmare. There was no possible way that this was real.

  Through the haze, I blinked down at my baby girl as they cut through her cord.

  The nurse took her away while Dr. Montieth continued to work on Elizabeth, to birth the aftermath of our destruction.

  And Elizabeth. She just cried. She just cried and cried and wouldn’t stop, and I had no idea how to stop the pain.

  I kissed her on the crown of her head. “I love you, Elizabeth,” I whispered into her hair.

  She clung to me a little tighter.

  I glanced at the clock. It was just after two a.m.

  It’d felt like seconds, like ages since this morning when it’d started with the promise of our future.

  How had it ended this way?

  Just like that.

  Over.

  Elizabeth had called me a little before noon. I’d answered with a smile, laughing with Matthew as we picked up our tuxes. But Elizabeth…the fear in her voice had struck me silent. She’d whispered that she was sure something was wrong. Hoping to assuage her fear, I told her not to worry and to call Dr. Montieth. Still, something inside me had quaked.

  I knew I should have been gentler with her this morning, knew I’d been rough and demanding.

  Knew if I’d hurt her I’d never forgive myself.

  Dr. Montieth had told her to drink some orange juice, to lie down for a while and then to call her back if she still didn’t feel Lillie move after half an hour.

  That half hour had passed, and Elizabeth had called me, frantic, begging me to come home. I was already on my way.

  We went into the emergency room where they sent us up to the maternity floor. Dr. Montieth had met us. She’d come into the room with the normal smile on her face. She had laughed a little, teasing Elizabeth that she was always worrying, her casual demeanor something that always set us both at ease.

  Until I saw her face.

  I saw it, the grim set of her mouth as she held that little probe at Elizabeth’s belly, as she searched and searched and searched for a heartbeat that she told us later had probably stopped beating during the night before.

  She thought it was a cord accident, although she said we couldn’t be one hundred percent certain.

  But in the end, it didn’t matter because it didn’t change the fact that our little girl was gone.

  Dr. Montieth had given us our options. Elizabeth could be induced or she could go home and wait for her body to naturally go into labor. But the one option we wanted wasn’t viable, the one that would give us the chance for this baby to live.

  Neither Elizabeth nor I could bear the idea of going home and knowing that our child was gone.

  And eight hours later, we were here.

  Broken.

  Elizabeth continued to cry, and I tried to breathe—tried to breathe for her as I hovered over her, hugging her to me, but it felt impossible, because there wasn’t enough air for the both of us. Not enough for any of us.

  My head pounded, throbbed and splintered, blinding, so severe I couldn’t see.

  Finally, Dr. Montieth finished the torture, but the torment had only begun.

  Thirty minutes later, one of the nurses came back in. I edged back and stood at the head of the bed to give her room, so she could come to Elizabeth’s side. Sympathy was written in every line on the woman’s face, her voice subdued as she bent her knees and got to eye level with Elizabeth. “Would you like to hold her now?”

  Through her tears, Elizabeth frantically nodded. “Yes.”

  She’d already decided this. Elizabeth wanted to see, to be given the chance to hold our baby girl.

  “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

  A few moments later, she returned. Lil
lie was completely wrapped in a blanket, her face covered. The nurse gently laid her in Elizabeth’s arms.

  An unrecognizable sound squeezed from Elizabeth, a pain so intense, it ricocheted around the room, reverberated off the walls, slammed into me. She cradled her on her shoulder, rocked her as she cried out toward the ceiling, as she cried out toward the heavens. It transformed into a desperate whine as Elizabeth slowly began to unwrap her, as she kissed her face and her fingers and her toes. Elizabeth felt her, touched her, a frenzy taking over Elizabeth as she tried to memorize every inch of the little girl we would never really know.

  I moved to sit in a chair beside Elizabeth’s bed. I rested my elbows on my thighs with my hands dangling between my knees. I just gave Elizabeth time, because that was the only thing I had to give.

  Elizabeth’s mother came and went, touched my cheek as she passed.

  Hours passed, and the sun slowly rose on what was supposed to be our wedding day.

  And still I reeled, my thoughts unable to catch up to this savage reality.

  All off it… I dropped my head toward the ground and buried my face in my hands. I could bear none of it.

  There was a soft knock at the door. It opened so slowly, and I looked up just as my mother emerged. Tears stained her cheeks, her vivid blue eyes dimmed with the same agony that held my heart. She stood there, biting at her bottom lip as another round of tears streamed down her face. Her attention locked onto Elizabeth, who rocked the child, unwilling to let her go.

  She approached, almost cautious, and eased down to sit on the edge of the bed. With her palm, she touched Elizabeth’s face and drew it up to meet her own.

  God, I had to look away. What was held in Elizabeth’s expression tore me apart. She was shattered. Swollen, dark bags hung beneath her eyes. Those eyes were red, glassy, dazed, as if she couldn’t make sense of this any more than I could. In all of it was agony.

  Mom brushed her hair back and kissed her forehead. “You brave, wonderful girl,” she said as she held Elizabeth by the chin, sitting back as her head drifted to the side. She never broke connection with the grief flowing from Elizabeth’s gaze.

  Finally she turned her attention to Lillie and, with her palm, cupped her tiny head. “Look at her…she’s beautiful.” Sorrow clotted her words, and she ran her thumb along the span of her forehead. “I know you don’t need me to tell you this, but don’t let anyone try to convince you this child is anything less than your daughter.”

  Mom unfolded an old blanket that she pulled from a bag and draped it across our child. “This belongs to her.”

  Elizabeth choked over a sob.

  I averted my gaze to the ceiling. God, this was excruciating. Brutal.

  Then she rose, touched her little hand, then placed another kiss to Elizabeth’s head, let it linger like an embrace.

  She turned and kissed me in almost the same way as she’d done Elizabeth, with actions that were full of understanding, with sympathy that I wasn’t sure I could bear.

  Then she quietly slipped out of the room.

  Elizabeth’s sister, Sarah, came in with the same result. Just more fucking sorrow heaped into this room that was becoming harder and harder to bear.

  I yanked at my hair, feeling like I was seconds from losing my mind. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t. I didn’t want to. I wanted my daughter. I wanted Elizabeth to become my wife. I wanted to make this right.

  And Elizabeth just held her, rocked her and kissed her and fucking talked to her.

  Finally I couldn’t take it any longer. “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  I stumbled down the hall and found my way into the men’s restroom that was just as fucking unbearably cold as the rest of the rooms of this godforsaken place. In its reprieve, I grabbed for the counter to hold myself up as I looked in the mirror. I was haggard. Black hair stuck up in every direction and dark circles sat prominent beneath my dismal eyes.

  Anger shook me, and I clung to the edge of the counter as I bent at the waist.

  How could this have happened? How? Today, Elizabeth was supposed to become my wife, and instead, we were here.

  My head pounded with the pain, with the constant flashes of the life we were supposed to lead.

  I turned as if I’d find escape, but just faced a wall. I dropped my forearms to it and rested my forehead against it, holding myself up as it all came crashing down.

  “Fuck,” I cried. My fist slammed into the hard, cold tile just beside my head. Pain splintered my bones, but it didn’t come close to touching the pain that ravaged me in places I didn’t know existed.

  Ruined.

  Destroyed.

  Never had I believed anything could hurt this bad.

  Hopelessness came barreling into my consciousness where it firmly took root.

  I gasped for air.

  But there was none to be found.

  I forced myself to the sink and splashed cold water on my face. I couldn’t do this. I knew Elizabeth needed me. I staggered back out into the hall.

  Matthew leaned up against the wall outside of Elizabeth’s room. His steady gaze met mine as I approached him. I dropped my eyes. Too many emotions tumbled through me, welling up and threatening to burst free.

  He straightened as I approached, then pulled me in for a hug, just a clap on the back before something seemed to hit him, and his arms constricted around my shoulders. He hugged me hard.

  “I’m sorry, Christian.” He stepped back and looked to the far wall, rushed the back of his hand beneath one eye as he sniffled. “Fuck…I can’t believe this happened. I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”

  My chest tightened. I wondered if it’d always been this hard to breathe. “You don’t need to say anything.”

  He turned to me with a nod, as if he perfectly grasped my meaning. Then he fixed his attention on me. “Elizabeth’s Mom went back to our house to be with Lizzie, so Natalie could come over here. We were able to keep Lizzie satisfied last night, but she knows something’s up. I can tell she’s scared. She’s starting to ask a bunch of questions and is whining. She’s just not acting like herself. Do you want me or Natalie to talk to her?”

  I shook my head as I stared at the gleaming white floor. “No. They’re supposed to release Elizabeth a little later. Let me get her home and then I’ll come and get Lizzie, okay? I want to be the one to tell her.”

  “Okay…I’ll just let her know you’ll be there to get her in a little while.”

  “I appreciate you looking out for her.”

  “Of course, Christian. Whatever you guys need…anything…just let us know.” He ran a shaky hand over his head and down his neck. “I’m going to get back to the house, relieve Elizabeth’s mom for a little while so she can come back over here.”

  “Thank you,” I said sincerely.

  “Please…Christian…please…don’t let them take her.” She was frantic, flailing.

  I pinned her arms down, spoke close to her face. “Baby, it’s time…you have to let her go.”

  “No!” She struggled against me, her cries like fucking torment beating against my ears.

  My spirit thrashed, clashed with hers as she begged.

  “You have to let her go,” I said again, the words cracking as I forced them from my mouth.

  Elizabeth wept, lifting her back off the bed as she bucked against me, her anguished face lifted toward the ceiling. Tears streaked from the creases of her eyes and slipped down to disappear in her hair. “No…please, Christian, don’t let them take her.”

  “You have to, Elizabeth.”

  “Please,” she whimpered. But this time, it was in surrender. Her body went limp and she slumped back onto the bed, but the tears from her eyes fell unending, her hands balled up in fists as my hands shackled her wrists.

  I swallowed down the misery and slowly released the hold I had on her wrists. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. It sounded like my own concession.

  Elizabeth withdrew, turned her face from me, he
r eyes pinched shut. I tried to wrap her in my arms, but she rolled to her side with her back to me.

  I stood there, staring down at her as she drew ragged breaths into her lungs.

  I’d promised her anything. Had promised her everything.

  But I was left with nothing to give.

  Six hours later, I drove around the slumbering neighborhood. Night had fallen, the dull street lamps flooding muted light along the road. An hour before, Lizzie had fallen asleep in her booster in the backseat of my car. When I’d stood in the doorway to Matthew and Natalie’s, looking down at my little black-haired girl, it was as if she’d already known. She looked up at me, stricken, grief swimming in the depths of her young eyes. I’d gathered her in my arms and took her to the park where I told her everything in as little detail as I could, though the images had raged, vivid violence playing out in my mind.

  Now I drove, listening to my daughter’s uneasy breaths emanating from the backseat. I went in circles. Aimless.

  I guess I didn’t go home because I knew things would never be the same.

  Dr. Montieth had taken me aside and promised me there was nothing I could have done, there was nothing I could have changed that would have led to a different outcome other than the one we’d been given.

  But I couldn’t stop my mind from going there, from wandering, from wondering, from blaming. There had to have been something that could have changed this course. If I’d have just been gentler, more cautious, made her rest.

  The rational side of me knew it wasn’t my fault, but my heart just wanted to protect her.

  Exhaustion began to set in. The fog that had blurred my thoughts was now blurring my eyes. I wound back around, inching by the front of the little house we shared before I pulled into the driveway. One dull light glowed from within, the house quiet, sadness radiating from the walls.

  Carefully I gathered Lizzie from the backseat and cradled her in my arms. I trudged up the walkway. At the door, I shifted Lizzie to the side, fiddled with the knob and unlatched it. The door creaked as it slowly swung open.