The Art of Moving On (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Sarah Raymond

  This morning, Casey had a much-needed appointment scheduled with Dr. Roma. She dressed warmly in an oversized sweater, feeling the need to hide her belly that was not even forming yet. She stepped out into what felt like a blizzard, snowflakes swarming all around her. Christmas was just around the corner. With all of the commotion in her life, Casey had not even done the necessary preparations for the holiday. At this point, she had no desire to.

  There were no cabs, or cars, for that matter, anywhere in sight so Casey took the T-line to Dr. Roma’s office. When she entered into the waiting room, she was surprised to find the area nearly full of patients. Christmastime was obviously rough on a lot of people.

  Dr. Roma came out at exactly 10 a.m. and called her name. Casey walked sluggishly into the office, removing her scarf and taking a seat on the couch that almost felt like home after the last few months.

  “Casey, how are you today?” she asked gently. “We have not spoken since your last hypnosis revealed the truth about your past. Are you handling things okay?”

  Casey glanced down at her stomach. “Well, I have bigger issues now,” she said, not knowing exactly where to begin.

  “Well, let’s start with what happened after you left my office, and go from there,” she said. Casey liked Dr. Roma, not only because she was genuinely kind, but also because she actually seemed to care. She wondered if she was like that with all of her patients.

  “Well, I don’t remember getting home really. It was like I blacked out. Then I slept for days.” Just thinking about sleeping in those lost days made her yearn for her bed once more.

  “Sleeping for long periods of time is not unusual for those who suffer from depression. What we uncovered through hypnosis was pretty heavy,” she said in an understanding tone. “What happened after you woke up?”

  “I cleaned like a crazy person. It was like I thought scrubbing the hell out of my apartment would erase the darkness from my past. I dunno.” Casey waited for a reaction from Dr. Roma—any indication that she might be insane.

  “Cleaning is a good outlet. Did you feel better afterward?” Good. I’m not crazy.

  “Actually, it did kind of help. My roommate found me on my hands and knees scrubbing nothing. We talked about what had happened. I hadn’t really talked to her about the hypnosis, but I told her everything that morning.”

  Dr. Roma wrote something on her little notepad. “And what was her response?”

  “She was horrified. She said that she had no idea about any of it. She said I was a like a zombie at the funeral—I would not talk. I did not cry. Then I packed up everything and left without a word.” She reached backward in her mind, hoping that any inkling of memory would surface.

  “You do not remember any of that time, either? The funeral? Moving here to Boston? You blocked out all of those memories as well?”

  Casey felt that she must have an extreme case of memory suppression. She wondered if anyone had ever had it this bad? “I remember applying for the job at the magazine, and then I remember a little bit of packing and stuff. I remember getting off the plane and smelling the air. I came alive a little then. Most everything is foggy, though.”

  “Hmm. Interesting,” Dr. Roma said as she scribbled on her pad once more. “Now, you said that you have bigger issues. What is going on?”

  Casey gathered her strength to say the words out loud. Even after a few days, she was not sure that she could accept her situation. “I am pregnant.” She winced, hoping that Dr. Roma would not react to this in an excited, “Congratulations” type of way.

  “And how does that make you feel?”

  Casey was actual happy to get the standard psychiatrist response. Of course Dr. Roma would not react in any which way or another. She was unbiased. She was a professional.

  “Well, frankly I am terrified. I don’t want to have another child, but I don’t want to have an abortion. I have weighed out the pros and cons of adoption, but I just can’t stomach the idea. Every option leads to me losing Conor, which is something that I also can’t stomach. I have no idea what to do.” Casey felt an instant shooting pain in her belly, as if the baby inside was angry that she was speaking of such things.

  “Well, Casey, there is one other option,” Dr. Roma said, still with an unbiased tone in her voice. “You could gather your strength and tell Conor the news. Maybe his reaction to the whole thing will lead you in the right direction.”

  Casey considered this. She and Conor had never really discussed the prospect of children per say, but he had hinted that he wanted a family. She already knew what his reaction would be. He would want to keep the baby, she would say no, and he would hate her. He would not understand her lack of desire to bear children without a full disclosure, and even then…

  “No, I don’t think I can do that. I do not want children. He does.” Her answer was firm, but was it convincing?

  “Casey, can you pinpoint a specific reason that you do not want children again? From what you have told me of your first child, you seemed completely comfortable being a mother,” Dr. Roma asked.

  Casey thought for a moment. It was not that she did not like babies—they were precious little miracles. It was not that she did not like being a mother, because she had relished in it. She longed for the closeness, the bond between mother and child. She loved the way her heart had sank the first time she saw her baby boy. She loved shopping for the baby. She loved feeding the baby. Watching him as he slept had relaxed her to no end. Her heart had been full of joy, once. That was gone.

  When she did not answer, Dr. Roma said, “Are you ultimately afraid that history will repeat itself?” Truthfully, that was it. Casey knew it. Dr. Roma knew it. “Many parents who have lost a child have the same fears at first, but they find that when the new baby arrives, their lives are filled with what they have been missing. Having this baby could be a good thing for you. New life could help you move on from your old life,” Dr. Roma said, now sounding more biased than before.

  “I can’t just have a new baby to replace the old one. How horrible would I be if I did that?” Casey said, now astounded at the idea.

  “That is not what I am saying, Casey. What I mean is, you need to fill the void within your heart. A new, not replacement, family may help you heal. You seem to be already halfway there with Conor in your life. I do not feel that it would be healthy to end the relationship now. Look to your future. Where do you see yourself without Conor in your life?”

  Casey knew exactly where she saw herself sans Conor—in hell. She knew as well as anyone that without him, her life would hold no purpose. The days would be dull, food would be bland, and her heart would grow cobwebs and turn to stone. She would be nothing.

  “I have to go,” Casey said as she stood and started for the door.

  Dr. Roma walked her to the waiting room and handed her the brochure she had seen before about having a second child after the death of the first. “Do not make hasty decisions you cannot take back,” the doc said as Casey left.

  Outside once again in the blizzard, Casey thought about how unhelpful the meeting with the doctor had been. She wanted a hasty solution to a problem that nobody could fix but herself. Her mind swam as she traveled back to her apartment. Once she got there, however, she decided to shelf the pregnancy, Conor, and all other thoughts and focus on her column. She had been out of commission for days, but she luckily still had a job. It took some clever lying about the sudden death of a family member to get her out of hot water with her boss, but she had pulled it off. Her extension on her columns ended tonight at midnight, so she had to get busy.

  Casey worked until about midnight, only stopping to drink a few cups of coffee and periodically check her phone to make sure Conor had not texted. Thankfully, she caught up on her work just in time to save her job.

  After, she decided to do some personal writing to try and sort through her feelings. Why am I so scared? she wrote, trying to understand her fear.

  Before she could get another line do
wn, her phone went off. It was a text from Conor that read, I’ll be home tomorrow night around 6. Meet me for dinner at 8? Though she had not yet worked out what to do about the baby, she missed Conor. If she was going to lose him in the immediate future, she wanted one more night with him at least. She responded, looked once more at the single line on her computer, turned it off, and went to bed.

  That night, she slept restlessly. Jumbled dreams of Conor pleading with her to keep the baby and infants crying so loud it pierced her brain tortured her all night long. She woke about 4 a.m. and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. When she got back into bed, Casey felt guilty for accepting the date with Conor when she had yet to make up her mind. You could gather your strength and tell Conor the news. Maybe his reaction to the whole thing will lead you in the right direction, Dr. Roma had said. Maybe the shrink was right.

  Casey decided to follow her advice. She would tell Conor, and make sure to let him know that she did not want to have the child. Maybe he would agree with her. After all, they had not been together too incredibly long. Or maybe, just maybe, he would respect her decision without question or complaint. After all, it was mostly up to the woman, wasn’t it? What a horrible thought. Casey lay back down in her bed, feeling a small relief in her decision. She fell back asleep a short time later, the nightmares absent for the remainder of the evening.

  Chapter 33

  Casey stared at the clock, her heart beating wildly in her chest. It was 7 p.m., and she was set to meet Conor at 8. She gazed into the mirror in her bathroom, studying her reflection. She looked modestly beautiful, her hair curled into loose ringlets, her makeup accenting her high cheekbones. There was a glow about her skin that was not usually present, which she figured was due to the pregnancy. She wore a pair of black tights with knee-high boots, and a maroon sweater dress. When she gazed into the mirror, she found her outfit both classy and practical for the raging winter outside.

  Conor had texted her earlier to say that he would pick her up at about 7:30 so that they would not miss their 8 o’clock reservation. He would not tell her where they were going, so she figured he had some elaborate surprise laid out. He enjoyed surprising her, and she usually reveled in it, but tonight she just felt guilty. There was a secret looming over her and Conor that only she knew. This would more than likely be their last evening together, which sat like an elephant on Casey’s shoulders.

  She thought about how she would never again run her hands along the creases of his gorgeous, masculine physique. How she would miss his brut Irish accent that could be both demanding and romantic simultaneously. She thought about how comfortable she felt lying in his arms, and how he could soothe her with one simple embrace. Casey knew that without Conor, she would be lonely for the rest of her life. No one could fill the void that she would feel without him. She was certain that whatever hole had resided in her soul after Jace’s death, the gaping wound that would soon lie exposed would be substantially more painful. Would she ever recover? She shook her head, the curls shivering atop her head.

  By 7:15, Casey was growing more nervous by the moment. She went into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of red wine, and poured herself a glass. An inkling of guilt hit her as she raised the glass to her lips, inhaling the rich aromas. I am not going to have the baby anyway, she reminded herself as she took a long sip. She finished a small glass, and decided that was all she needed—just a little liquid courage to tell Conor the truth about the baby, and accept it when he left her sitting at the dinner table alone.

  Fear and overwhelming despair boiled inside of her, so much so that she felt she might have a heart attack. If she would not have gotten pregnant, things between her and Conor could have been perfect. She would recover from the past enough to share her story with him. He would accept it without pity in his eyes. They could be happy. Now, the ideal future that she dreamed of with the absolute most perfect man she had ever met was shattered, all due to faulty birth control.

  Casey’s thought process was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” she yelled, quickly heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she finished, she walked out to find Conor looking especially dashing.

  “Wow, you look amazing,” she said, her heart breaking as she spoke the words.

  “Ya look lovely also,” he said as he crossed the room to embrace her. His touch was gentle as he guided her lips to his. Just before they connected, he said, “Ya have no idea how badly I’ve missed ya, love. These past few days have been like hell on earth.”

  He then kissed her hungrily, his lips desperate to get closer to hers with every press. Casey let herself go, dazed in this connection with him. He had a way of making her weak in the knees with just one kiss. I am going to miss this.

  When they parted, he locked his emerald eyes on her face, which he held gently in his palms. “Ya really do look ravishin’. You’re just so…” It was clear that he could not find the words, but Casey knew exactly what he was trying to say.

  “Oh, it is just this new makeup I am trying,” Casey said to spare them both the lingering moment.

  “Well it looks grand, love. Shall we go? We have a reservation.”

  They grabbed their coats and left the apartment. Casey took a deep breath as she tried to gather a mass of strength for what she was about to do. She feared that she was not ready, but her window to solve the problem was closing. There was no room for weakness or hesitation. She had to tell Conor tonight, and long before she fell under his lustful spell.

  When they arrived in front of the Prudential Tower, the snow was falling in thick sheets, and the air was tainted with a foreboding chill. Casey looked up, squinting to make out the lights on the top floor of the building. She gave up when a large snowflake landed in her eye, temporarily blinding her. Conor put his hand on the small of her back, lightly guiding her toward the door. Once they were sheltered from the snowfall, he motioned her toward the elevator.

  “Have ya ever been to Top of The Hub before?” he asked.

  “No, I have heard it is great, though.” Casey had read in Style that the restaurant at the top of the building was renowned for its amazing food and spectacular view. It was one of the top romantic spots in the city. As they got on the elevator, Casey was aware that this would be her first, and probably last, visit to the restaurant ever.

  When they reached their floor, Casey stepped off the elevator to find a cozy little restaurant doused in candlelight that was surrounded by wide windows. Each clothed table was situated with a view of the city. Boston had never seemed so beautiful as it did in this moment.

  “Welcome to Top of the Hub, Mr. M’Cullagh,” a perky young girl said before they could reach the hostess stand. They know him by name? Casey thought.

  As Conor stepped forward to speak with the hostess, another came to stand beside Casey.

  “May I take your coat, ma’am?” she said as she helped Casey out of her warm winter coat.

  “Your table is right this way,” the perky hostess said, motioning them to follow her.

  As they walked toward their table, Casey glanced around the restaurant. Though each table was set, there were no customers. She craned her neck to see every nook and cranny, only to find that they were alone in the restaurant. Did Conor buy out the entire place for our date? Though it seemed a little excessive, it did not come as a shock to Casey. After all, he had reserved a private deck on their first date…how is that any less expensive than an entire restaurant?

  They were escorted to a table that was tucked away in a private little nook. When they sat down, Conor took the liberty of ordering them some champagne as Casey gazed out the window. Even through the heavy snowfall, the city was stunning. She wondered if Boston would ever seem beautiful to her again after this night.

  “So? What do ya think?” Conor asked, interrupting her despair.

  “The restaurant is gorgeous, and the view is spectacular,” she said distantly.

  “I thought ya might like it, bein�
� such a fan of the city and all.”

  When the waiter returned with a chilly bottle of champagne, Conor poured them both a glass and held his high.

  “Cheers, love,” he said as their glasses met.

  Casey brought hers to her lips, gulping the champagne down nervously.

  “Um, okay?” Conor said, bewildered at Casey’s apparent thirst.

  When she finished and set the glass down she asked, “Would you excuse me for one second?” Without waiting for an answer, she went in search of the bathroom.

  Once inside, she stared at herself in the mirror, fighting back the tears. “You have to do this now. It can’t wait until after dinner,” she said out loud to her reflection. “Just go out there, tell him you have to talk to him. Just say, ‘Conor, I am pregnant. I do not want to keep the baby.’ Just get it out there, and deal with his reaction, whether it is good or bad. Don’t make a scene in this gorgeous, romantic restaurant that you love so much already.” Casey was frustrated. She really wanted to just enjoy the night and act like this was not happening. “No! You can’t. Just get back out there and get it over with.”

  When she had finished her pep talk, she took one more deep breath and walked back to the table. Conor was sipping on his glass of champagne and gazing out the window when she returned.

  She sat down and said, “Conor, we have to talk,” just as she noticed a small square box on the plate in front of her. She gasped, fear and panic combusting deep inside her. She froze in her seat, her muscles stiff as glaciers. Conor turned back to her and began his speech.