by A. E. Murphy
He steps inside and holds up a large bouquet of flowers and an even larger cooler bag.
“Mum made lunch and I bought a ton of junk food and my extremely ancient portable DVD player.”
I look back out of the window.
“I’ll just set these up. Do you want to watch action or horror? I have a few selections of both.”
“Whatever.”
Another nurse walks in, a different one to yesterday. I let her check me over, take more blood and hand me pills.
They keep sedating me with something to keep me numb. I can’t remember if I gave them permission or not, but I’m grateful for them all the same.
“Shall I rub your shoulders? Tickle your back?” Dillan asks quietly as he finishes setting up the bed for a comfortable night of movies and chocolate. “They said you could be discharged tomorrow. You can go home.”
“Go home to what?” I mutter.
“To your parents, your brother…” He tilts my head back with his fingers just beneath my chin. “To me.”
I look away again, unable to meet his eyes. It’s too painful. He said she looked like Ashlyn. Did she have his eyes?
Ashlyn has his eyes.
“She died without a name.”
His hand squeezes my shoulder. “We’ll choose a name.”
“I don’t deserve to choose her name.” I push his hand away. “Neither do you.”
“She deserves a name. It’s not about who chooses it.”
“Choosing a name should be…” I trail off and rest my head against the wall.
“I like Cayla.”
My head whips around, rattling my brain. “Cayla?”
“After my father.”
“A bit morbid naming a dead child after a dead man.”
He frowns at my insult but doesn’t bite. “He’ll take care of her.”
“If you believe in that sort of thing.” I’m being cruel. I can’t stop myself.
“I do.”
“Cayla,” I say again, this time testing the name without disdain. It’s a beautiful name and the fact that Dillan chose his father’s name should make me feel so proud. “Would you not rather call your future daughter or son by his name? Maybe children that will survive?”
“I love her. I’ve never…” With his elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands. “I’ve never felt something so powerful before.” Red rimmed eyes find mine and hold them, a deep-set fire of determination and anguish lit within. “I have done nothing but cry and ache for her since she was pulled from you.”
“Why couldn’t she breathe?” I ask solemnly. “Babies younger than her have survived!”
“She suffocated when the placenta…” He moves to me and crouches before me. “I wish I could trade places with you. I can see you’re hurting.”
“Hurting?” I scoff. “Hurting doesn’t cover it. I’m dying. I am fucking dying. I’m numb, trapped inside of my mind yet my body burns. As if I’m paralysed with full feeling of my body. I can think of nothing but the emptiness. In my stomach. In my heart. I feel empty. I feel nothing and yet… I feel everything.” I look at him, my eyes no doubt as blank as my soul. “How did…” Gulp. “How did she die?”
Biting his lower lip, he laces his hands on his knees. “Placental abruption, no other reason. It’s just one of those things.”
I blow a breath through my nose. “One of those things? She wasn’t just a statistic for normal pregnancies…”
He remains quiet and it’s probably for the best.
“Sit with me,” he asks after a few more minutes of silence, patting my cold, uncomfortable hospital bed. “Please.”
“I don’t want to.” Shaking my head, I look back through the glass to the greying sky. “I just want to be alone.”
“I’m not leaving you. You need me.”
“No,” I snap. “I needed you months ago. Now I need my daughter, who I alone grew and nourished. You need to leave.”
“Go on, Dillan.” My dad steps into the room. I don’t look back at him. I remain where I am, ignorant of their existence.
“I’ll come back,” Dillan states, his tone one of sincerity and determination, meaning I don’t have a choice other than to accept his presence.
When he leaves, my dad stands just behind my shoulder. “Dismal scenery isn’t it?”
“If you’re going to lecture and chastise me, get it over with. I’m well aware of the shame you’re feeling. Maybe one day when I’m not feeling so empty I’ll apologise and mean it.”
“Oh no, my dear, sweet girl.” He moves and sits on the low windowsill, facing me. His eyes are as sorrowful as Dillan’s were. “I think what you’ve been through is punishment enough. What we’ve all been through.”
My teeth chatter as though I’m cold.
“We’ll have no bad ties associated to this already devastating tragedy.” He leans forward and kisses my forehead. “I love you; we all love you and I can only imagine the extent of the pain you’re feeling; you and Dillan.”
I allow my breath to leave me, though it’s staggered. A huge part of me was hoping that he’d shout so I could shout back and vent my gathering rage.
“Shall I run you a bath?”
I shake my head.
“You should be allowed home tomorrow.”
I nod.
“That is, unless you’d rather go elsewhere? Your mother would be happy to take you away. I could follow in a few days.” He places his hands on my knees. “Maybe somewhere warmer? Spain perhaps? Nathan has informed me he has a villa in Spain that he’d gladly loan to us for your healing.”
“I’ll think about it.” I say. “Daddy?” I look at him, my teeth still chattering. “Will you please ask them for my baby? Nobody will let me see her.”
“My love… My sweet, sweet girl.”
“I just need to see her. Please. Please.” When he doesn’t reply I push his hands away and stand abruptly. “This is torture.”
“It’ll be even more so if you see her now. She was too small. Too tiny. Her body was too frail to cope with the environment outside of you.” He reaches for me but his hand lingers in the space between us after I step away. “We have pictures, wonderful pictures ready for when you want to see her.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I know. I know it’s not.” This time I let him hold me, hoping it’ll ease the pain. It doesn’t.
We don’t have a huge funeral where everyone can know and pretend to share with us their false grief. We have a small gathering, just Dillan, myself, Mum, Dad, his parents and Emily.
Dillan carries the coffin on one shoulder. It’s tiny and so beautiful. He says the box is so weightless it feels empty. I wish it were. I didn’t want to carry it. I couldn’t bear the solemnity of it. I’m barely holding onto myself, let alone a coffin too.
Nathan and my father both offered but Dillan insisted. I suppose it’s only fitting as she’s his child.
I sit between my mother and Gwen, who both hold a hand each as though it’ll give me strength.
Strength is something I lack. I can’t even remember what it is. How can one find strength when a child they never got to meet is about to be cremated? I feel as though just touching any part of anything she was is a huge betrayal. I wasn’t there for her. I should have stayed awake.
“Such a beautiful urn,” Gwen says quietly. “Then keep it,” I reply. “I don’t want it.”
I stand, step over my mother’s legs and leave the room. I can’t take this anymore. I need to go to anywhere but here.
“Tyler,” mum calls after me.
I hear Gwen hold her back with the soft-spoken words, “Let her go. She needs a moment.”
Just a moment? I need more than just a moment. I need a thousand of them.
Tyler: Are you home?
Leroy: Yep. What’s up?
Tyler: I need something stronger.
It takes a thousand moments for him to respond.
Leroy: Tell me where you are. I’ll co
me get you. It’s PAR-T time! ;)
“So what, dare I ask, brings you to me on this fine evening?” Leroy asks, his smirk in place as he hands me a drink.
I’ve become accustomed to his home being occupied by his friends or family. I’ve never been alone with him here. “I need something stronger than vodka.”
“You want what you so blatantly told me to keep away from you?” He laughs nervously. “Is this some kind of test?”
“No. I’m… dea… I’m serious.” I walk a slow circle around his living room before stopping at a picture of him and his mum together that sits on the fireplace.
“But… why?” I can’t meet his eyes after hearing the concern in his voice. I’m scared I’ll cry again. “Not that I’m judging, but you’re so straight edge.”
I down my drink, wishing it were pure vodka and not watered down with lemonade.
“Woah,” he chuckles, taking it from my hand. “Steady on. Have you eaten?”
I shake my head. “I don’t care.”
“I’ll order pizza.”
“I don’t want food. I want something to blow my fucking mind off earth,” I state, looking him square in the eyes. “Now are you going to help me, or are you going to be a pussy and force me to find the means elsewhere.” I add, to play on his feelings for me, “Somewhere where I could be taken advantage of in my vulnerable state.”
“Shit.” He scrapes his perfect teeth over his lower lip, teasing the lip ring for a moment. “What happened to you, Ty?”
“I don’t want to talk. I want to forget.”
Sighing, he places my glass on the coffee table and takes my hand in his. I allow him to lead me to his room, somewhere that I’ve never been, and allow him to lock the door behind me.
“Cute,” I say and sit on his bed as he pushes the wooden side of the fireplace. It slides across the ground a few inches revealing a tall, dark hole.
“Nobody knows where my stash is hidden.” He gives me a wry smile. “Except you.”
“I’m honoured. Now give me something to make me feel like another person.”
“The best kind.” He smiles sadly, showing me a glimpse of his own demons in his eyes. “I have just the thing.”
Moments later he places a tiny white pill into my hand, which has on it the image of angel wings. I almost snort. How apt.
“This will make you fly.”
I wait not a second longer and place it on my tongue.
“Let it dissolve,” he says after placing his own under his.
It tastes foul. I rub it against my palate to try and get it to vanish faster. “How long will it take?”
“Relax.” We both lie down side by side and stare at the ceiling. “I’ll look after you.”
My lips stretch into a smile, one I’m not sure I’m worthy of.
“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety…”
“What are you doing?”
“I count down from a hundred aloud until I start slurring my words.”
“Oh.” I watch the ceiling morph into twisting white waves. “I feel as weightless as the coffin.”
“Huh?”
“Nothing.” I smile again and a tear escapes my eye. Everything I thought I felt, I no longer do. I’m happy again. Truly happy. I want to dance. I want to sing. “Let’s go running.”
“I’d rather not.” He curses under his breath. “I forgot to order pizza first. Shall we raid the fridge? Is that your phone ringing? It sounds like your phone. Let’s go eat. The cupboards are full. Your phone is ringing.”
I roll off the bed and crawl over to my bag which I dropped by the door.
It’s Dillan and two missed calls from my dad. I switch it off and drop it back into my bag before rolling onto my back on the rug and smiling at the ceiling.
They will never be as happy as I am right now.
None of them. They’ll be jealous and when they get jealous they’ll try to take away my happiness. Won’t they?
“Who will take your happiness? Dillan? Sometimes I fucking hate Dillan. He has it all and he got you.” Leroy snarls. “What did he do this time? Huh? Did he hurt you?”
“I’m not hurt; I’m happy.” I sit up and grin at the room. It’s dancing. I want to dance.
“I’m hungry.”
“Go get food then.”
“Are you hungry?”
I nod. “I think so. I could eat. You?”
He nods. “Yeah. Could you?”
“Yeah.” I giggle, holding out my hands for him to grab. He pulls me up and we stagger to the door, arm in arm. “Why have I never done this before?”
“You’re too vanilla, too pure,” he explains. “Too uptight.”
“Now I’m flying. I’m so happy!” I spin with my arms out to the sides, twisting my body as I go.
“Careful,” he chuckles, yanking me away from the stairs. “I don’t want to be responsible for any injuries you might sustain under my father’s roof.”
“Food.”
“Right.” His smile becomes a look of focus. “Food. Pizza. Chocolate. Beer.”
“Perfect.”
“Where the hell have you been?” My mum yells, her eyes bloodshot, her hair a mess.
“I needed space.” I ascend the stairs to my room, needing sleep that escaped me last night.
“You should have called! We’ve been worried sick!” She answers her phone and I know it’s my dad when she says, “She’s home; she looks okay. Tired but okay.”
“Well I’m not okay,” I snap and enter my bedroom, locking the door behind me.
Mum’s fist hits the other side. “We thought the worst. We thought you’d done something stupid to hurt yourself! Dillan is a state. We’ve all been looking for you.”
I already know. Dillan called Leroy nonstop last night, even came to the house, but we hid in his room and switched all of the lights off.
“I’ll call next time.”
“There had better not be a next time!” With that she moves away and I hear her steps get quieter until they vanish completely.
After staring at my phone for a long time, I throw it on my desk, still switched off, and climb fully clothed into my bed. I feel no sense of rest, even when I pull the blanket over my head.
“Honey,” Mum reappears outside my room, “open the door please.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Babe…”
“Just leave me alone!”
“I’m only trying to help you, sweetie. I’m not your enemy.”
“Well don’t,” I snap back, throwing an old book at the door that was sitting on my bedside table.
She gets the hint and leaves, leaving me alone to my own morbid thoughts. As I lie on my side, my hand drifts to my empty stomach. I should still be pregnant. I should still be worrying that everyone might find out.
She should still be safe in my stomach. Then, when she’s ready, she’ll leave my body and I’ll get to hold her in my arms. She’ll drink from me, find heat from me, feel safe with me. She’d want for nothing because I’d give her everything I could. She’d own my heart and soul.
Instead, she’s crumbling ash in a pretty vase.
My tiny little bundle of joy is no longer with me. I failed her. I failed myself.
It’s night before I rise, shower and sneak downstairs for sustenance. I don’t feel hungry but I know I should eat, especially if I’m to meet Leroy again as planned. We’re both skipping classes tomorrow so we can have a late one tonight.
It’s the last night this week that his parents aren’t home. He’s not stupid enough to risk doing that stuff around his father. His father is cop; he’d know immediately. I’m surprised he hasn’t been caught already, but I’m also grateful. I’d be stuck without him. I need to forget, even now, so soon after already taking one I just want to take another. I’m not sure I’d care if it killed me, though he has told me it’s a low risk high as long as it’s taken sparsely.
Taking a second within twenty-four hours can hardly be con
sidered sparse but, again, I don’t care. I just want to stop feeling like this. I want to stop thinking about it. Last night is the first reprieve I’ve had.
It loops in my head over and repeatedly, every time hitting me with a fresh wave of pain more substantial than the wave before. I find no peace, no comfort. Not until that tiny little white pill last night that helped me forget all about everything and made me happy about it too.
I never saw the appeal of drugs until now.
After eating a banana and drinking a mug of too hot coffee, I sneak out of the house, leaving my parents a note saying I’ll be home tomorrow and not to worry. I know they will worry; I just can’t push my pain far enough to the side to make room for regret or room for good decisions. I can’t care about anyone when I can’t even care about myself.
“Someone looks beautiful tonight,” Leroy comments, leaning against the bonnet of his car swinging his keys around his finger. “You eaten?”
“I had a banana.”
“Let’s go and get some real food.”
“I’d rather skip that and get straight to it.”
He opens the door for me before rounding it and folding his body into the driver’s seat. “Well I need some real food.” When he places his hand on my thigh, I don’t push him away. I’m too worried he’ll tell me to get out of his car. “And some munchies for later.”
“Good plan.” I remember my major cravings for sugary stuff last night. “Do you want any dollar towards our events? I brought my purse. I owe you.”
“No, it’s on me.” He squeezes my thigh and reverses out of my driveway. I see Mum look through the curtains of the living room and wince when she turns, probably to come after me. I see the front door open right before we leave and turn my phone off before she can start calling me every two minutes. “Are you staying over again tonight?”
I pat my bag and nod. “I brought my essentials.”
“This time I’ll be sure we actually make it to a bed instead of just passing out on my rug.”
I try to smile, certain that would have been funny under normal circumstances.
“What’s wrong?” He asks, his thumb tickling my thigh in slow circles. “You seem sad, maybe more so than yesterday. Trouble with Dillan?”