His Wounded Light

by Christine Brae

  I continue on to the bathroom, sink to the floor, and cry.

  Two hours later, I walk into our dark home and make my way up the stairs. After that episode in the bathroom, I force myself to stay for a few more pleasantries before begging off and asking to be driven home ahead of the others. Alex is sitting in the dark on the landing right above the stairs. It appears that he’s been waiting for me to come home. I know he’s been drinking. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes.

  “Hi,” I greet him cheerfully. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll come around tonight.

  “Where’ve you been? Trolling around for men? Your outfit certainly fits that purpose.”

  What? Did I just hear him say that? How much more can my heart take? His words will be the death of me. I stop right before the landing to face him. “Alex, take that back. You know who I was with. I told you. You’re picking another fight with me.”

  He keeps both hands on the wheels of his chair. I’ve learned that he does this when he wants to keep them in check and control his feelings. “Are you going to sign those divorce papers?” He’s not going to let this go. He really wants to start an argument.

  “No. I told you we’re going to work this out.” My response is direct and adamant.

  “I don’t want to work it out. I want a divorce. I want to be free of this.”

  His words have been gutting me for months and yet, I’m dying to reach out to touch him. “Free of what? What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?”

  “I hate what we had because we can’t have it anymore. Get over it, Isa. We have to move on.”

  “Move on with what? We’re going to have a baby. And I love you so much, Alex.”

  “I don’t love you. In fact, I think I’m finding Amanda to be very sexy these days.”

  “Ha!” I force out a laugh. “I don’t believe you.” My mood changes, and I’m desperate to make him see how wrong he is. “Baby, please, we can work this out. You’ll get better and this will all just be a bad dream. Please, please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. I love you.”

  “Begging doesn’t become you, Isa. What more do you want me to say to you? I WANT OUT.” With this, he motions his wheelchair backwards as if getting ready to move away from me.

  “No, you don’t.” I’m standing on the step right below him. I boldly move forward and place myself between his legs on his chair. I hold his face and kiss him. For a minute I can feel it, I have my old Alex back. He closes his eyes as I brush my lips against his. His reaction prompts me to go further. I use my tongue to lick his top lip but right after he lets out a moan, he snaps back to the stranger he’s turned into.

  “No, Isa. It’s over.” He takes my hands from his face and pushes them away.

  This final act causes me to stare at him in confusion, wondering whether he really did stop loving me after such a short time. My astonishment at being rejected once again is so pronounced that I abruptly stand up, humiliated at the loss of my pride. The heel of my shoe doesn’t make it on the edge of the step and I lose my footing. I stumble backwards and topple down the flight of stairs, watching him reach out his arms to me in an effort to stop me from this fall.

  Why, Alex? Why are you hurting me like this?

  Right before my head grazes the edge of the bottom step and I slip into oblivion, I hear his voice bellowing just as the blackness hits.

  I hear him call out my name.

  ***

  “Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes around in another form.”

  —Rumi

  I open my eyes under extremely bright lights, the kind of florescent lighting that they only have on operating tables. In hospitals. What am I doing here? I try to blink my eyes open but I keep slipping in and out of awareness. I hear voices—women, men, people, orders. I don’t know where I am. All of a sudden, I feel a slicing pain in my abdomen.

  “Help me, I feel like someone’s cutting me open!” I scream.

  “30 more milligrams, now!” I hear a man’s voice as the mask on my face is adjusted and everything goes dark.

  For a while, I float in and out of pointless dreams. Subliminally, I’m begging for the dream about my mother. I know she’ll have the answers that might help me understand what had happened to my life. I emerge out of the mist when I open my eyes and recognize that I’m still alive. Through my half-open eyelids, I scan the room and find Evie and Ali standing in the corner.

  “What happened?” I ask, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.

  “Oh, Isa! We’re so glad you’re okay. Try to get some rest. Don’t talk, just close your eyes and sleep.”

  “What happened to me?” I inquire again. I hold my hands up against my face and I see that they’re bloodied. It wasn’t a dream? Did I really dig my fingers into my stomach as they were doing something to me?

  Evie presses the call button and the nurse’s voice comes through the intercom. “Please call Dr. Murray, my sister is awake.”

  I see Alex wheeling himself towards my bed. He’s trying to get to me as fast as he can, frantic and upset. “Isa!” he calls out. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

  Dr. Murray arrives immediately and pushes her way past him to take her place by my bedside. The warmth of her fingers on my forehead is comforting. “Isabel, how are you feeling? You spent quite a while in recovery, dear.” I’m close to Dr. Murray and so very thankful to see a familiar face. We have become friends ever since I came to her when I was pregnant with Eddie.

  “What happened to me, Barbara?”

  “When you took a fall down the stairs, you immediately went into labor.” She pauses and her face conveys my biggest fear. “We had no choice but to deliver the baby via C-section.”

  I lose my voice for some reason. I know there’s no way the baby could’ve survived, I was barely five months along. I want to say something, but I can’t produce a sound. Finally, in one silent breath, I ask, “Was it a boy or a girl?”

  “A girl, Isabel. She was a girl.”

  “Sophie.” I whisper back. I want to cry but I have no more tears left.

  Alex is close enough to hear me utter her name. His breath hitches and his face contorts in remorse, tears spilling down his cheeks.

  We were going to name her Sophie.

  “I need to be alone, please.” Out of nowhere, I finally find the strength to say these words.

  Alex tries to stand from his chair as he reaches out to touch me. It takes every bit of energy I have to withstand the excruciating pain it causes me to face away from him and push myself to the opposite side of the bed. My stitches feel raw, my body is bruised.

  But nothing compares to the pain of his touch.

  Dr. Murray knows that it’s her cue to leave, so she pats my arm before gently squeezing it and walking away.

  “Alex, please leave.”

  “Isabel, I—”

  “It’s over. I’m letting you go. Right now, today. I’m signing those divorce papers.”

  Please God, let the tears come. I need the tears to wash all my sorrow away. I pull the covers over my head and silently pray for the two people I’ve lost today. Alex and Sophie.

  ***

  “And I, will walk on water

  And you will catch me if I fall

  And I will get lost into your eyes

  And know everything will be alright.”

  “Storm” by Lifehouse

  “You got it, sweetie?”

  I bend down to help Maddy drop the flowers on the marble slab underneath the intricately sculpted headstone. Eddie is standing next to me with his arm around my shoulder. He steps forward in response to my question.

  “Yes, Mom. We love you, Sophie,” Eddie says before stepping back to take his sister from my arms.

  As I genuflect in prayer, I gently bow down to place a pretty pink rosary right next to her offering. Maddy has a matching one in her bedroom. It still hurts to move too much, so I slowly regain my balance before lifting Maddy up and taking Eddie’s hand to walk back to the car. It’
s a sunny morning in September, not your typical day during these monsoon months. Off in the distance, Emmy and the driver are waiting to take us back to the apartment. Two weeks have passed since the birth of my daughter. We had a memorial service for her as soon as I was released from the hospital. I use the word birth because that’s all I am willing to remember. My recurring dream should have been about two people, not just one.

  All this physical activity has delayed the healing of my stitches, both from the fall and from my delivery. I’ve moved out of our home and have taken the children with me. Alex withdrew the divorce papers but my lawyers were clever enough to back date my agreement so that my acceptance would supersede his withdrawal. He’s been trying to see me ever since. I don’t want to see him when he picks up the children and so I ask Ali to arrange for him to take them to and from her place. My children are fine. They have seen enough love between their father and I that somehow they know that whatever is happening is for the best at the moment. I have good days and bad days. On the good days, I work for twelve hours and succumb to the exhaustion that overtakes me when my head hits my pillow. On the bad days, I fight every urge to call him and beg him and tell him that I forgive him. On the good days, I cry. And on the bad days, I don’t.

  “Where are we going now, Mom?” In the past few weeks, Eddie has started calling me Mom instead of Mommy. I know it’s his way of telling me that he’s now the man of my family.

  “Well, we can have lunch somewhere and then I’m going to drop you off at Aunt Ali’s. I have an appointment with Dad’s doctor in the afternoon. This is your weekend with him, remember?”

  Maddy’s “choice” simply means that we go to her favorite place, McDonalds. They’re giving away My Little Pony dolls with their Happy Meals and so we buy three of them so she gets one in every color that’s offered. Eddie chows down on his Big Mac while I have a coffee. We eat inside for a few minutes, take Maddy to the play area, and then head on to Ali’s to drop them both off.

  By the time I arrive at my apartment, I have a few minutes left before my appointment with the doctor. I purchased a three bedroom, three bathroom place on the outskirts of the city, a few miles away from the exclusive neighborhood where Alex and I once lived. I wanted to keep some distance between my new life and the old one. I figured that this would be a temporary solution while I decide what to do with my life. This place has just too many memories but taking the children to another country away from him will only serve as a detriment towards the normalcy of their lives.

  I straighten up the pillows on the sofa and brew some coffee in the kitchen. Our new home is artistically done—it reminds me of the place that we had in Hong Kong—sparse, but modern and chic. And empty. I left all my antique vases and paintings from Paris at the old house. When I walked away from that life, I walked away from everything in it. Next to a picture of Eddie and Maddy is a collage of ultrasound pictures of Sophie. Barbara knew me well enough to take tasteful pictures of my daughter before we laid her to rest. She looks like she’s sleeping and her rosebud lips are curved up in a smile. I look at those pictures several times a day to remind me that life was good once, before he stopped loving me. My mind plays tricks on me at times and I need to be slapped back into the harsh truth that is his blatant rejection of me.

  The doorbell rings at exactly 2:00 pm. I open the door to find the beautiful and statuesque Amanda, but she has also brought Dale with her. I kiss them both on the cheek and urge them to come inside. “Please have a seat while I get you some coffee and pastries.”

  I busy myself around the kitchen, opening up the tray of sweets that we bought on the way home from the cemetery. “You have a beautiful place here, Isabel,” Amanda observes.

  “Thank you. I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, so it doesn’t feel like home yet.” I catch myself when I say that. I don’t want their sympathy. I don’t need their compassion.

  I take the tray into the living room and sit on the armchair adjacent to Dale and Amanda. “Thank you for reaching out to me. I am wondering what it is you would like to speak to me about.”

  Dale begins the conversation. “As his wife, we thought we should give you an update on his condition.”

  “I’m no longer his wife. We’re divorced.”

  “Isa,” Dale cuts in, “whatever it is that the two of you are ironing out right now, I know you care about him and you’d like to know how he is.”

  “I do,” I acquiesce.

  “Physically, he’s doing phenomenally well. His physical therapy was delayed for six weeks, as you know. But he started out doing them twice a day two weeks ago and he’s determined to get better. Yesterday, he regained a little bit more feeling in his right leg.”

  “That’s wonderful,” I say. I had to give up my daughter for him to work on himself. This is just great. I really don’t want to hear any more of this.

  “Psychologically and emotionally, he’s not doing as well,” Amanda pipes in. “All he wants to do is to see you. He keeps on talking about how he thought that driving you away would give you a better chance at happiness.”

  “I told him numerous times that that wasn’t true, and I’m done defending it. I’m done begging him. I lost my daughter to his selfishness.” The word “lost” hits me with a punch. I get up and excuse myself and stay in my bedroom for five minutes to regain my composure. I return to find them sitting motionless, right where I left them, and calmly sit down. “I’m sorry. Everything is just so difficult for me to digest right now. But I’m so glad to hear that he’s making progress. Please wish him the best for me.”

  Dale smiles warmly. “He has spoken to us about the night you both tried to have sex. He was very embarrassed about that incident. He says that he made his decision to divorce you shortly after that. Isa, you know that sex is a big deal to Alex. You have to understand how devastating it is for him to have to accept the possibility of never being able to consummate with you.”

  So Dale and Amanda now know about our most intimate moments. Phenomenal.

  “Isa,” Amanda continues, “what Alex did to you was unacceptable. I’m not here to justify it, nor condone it. I’m simply telling you what his current situation is, what his thought process has been like. I will continue to see him weekly so that he’s able to sift through these feelings. I want you to know that he has asked for my help in figuring out his issues with the end goal of proving his love to you.”

  I can’t help myself. “How exactly do you console him during these weekly visits? Are you still in love with him, Amanda?”

  Her flinty eyes glare at me and her tone is cold and angry. “That was totally out of line and I refuse to dignify it with an answer.”

  “Isa, please.” Dale moves over to me to take my hand.

  “You’re right, Amanda. I’m very sorry for what I said.” I stand up as a sign that I want them to leave. “Please accept my apologies. Thank you both for taking care of him so well. He needs you all now more than ever.”

  Dale’s eyes are sad. “As a friend, Isabel, I’m asking you to please seek help and speak to someone. Nothing good will come out of your keeping your feelings bottled up inside. The trauma of losing a child can lead to serious psychological repercussions. You need to get better for Eddie and Maddy.”

  “I’ll be fine. The children are fine. I’m taking care of them. I just need some time.”

  “Please don’t give up on him. Alex loves you.” He leans over to give me a hug.

  Amanda and I kiss each other on both cheeks. I don’t react to their last statement.

  And then, they’re gone.

  ***

  “There are two mistakes one can make along the road to truth…not going all the way and not starting.”

  —Buddha

  We’re sitting by the water watching Maddy splash around, both Eddie and I. It’s another ordinary Saturday afternoon and we just got back from spending the morning with Sophie. We visit her often, at least once every two weeks. I’m sure that makes
my mom very happy, because that means we see her too. The weather is slowly getting cooler, but the warm rays of the sun still allow us these days by the pool. Eddie and Maddy are spending the night with Alex’s parents. They have been so kind and loving towards me; I really can’t complain. I haven’t seen him for almost two months, but there are stark reminders of him everywhere I look. My bank account keeps getting funded even if I have repeatedly rejected the deposits to my account. The children’s tuition and activity fees are paid in full for the year. He sends them home with clothes and shoes and everything they need. He texts me every so often knowing that I won’t answer. Eddie updates me with stories about his physical therapy sessions and how he can do wheelies on the wheelchair. I miss him, but I miss him the same way that I miss Sophie and my mother. I miss him as if he’s nothing but a memory of a past life long since over. The road to acceptance is long and arduous. There are twists and turns along the way, wearing me down and causing me to lose hope. No one emerges from a wreckage unscathed; they are my scars from an otherwise blessed life.

  Anthony arrives at six o’clock on the nose. We stand in the living room as Emmy is getting all their bags together, shifting our feet uncomfortably, waiting for the other one to speak first.

  “How’ve you been, Isa?” Tony asks, stretching out his arm to affectionately touch my shoulder.

  “Really good, Tony. And you? Thank you for coming for the children, by the way.”

  “Mom wants to know if you want to have dinner at the house next weekend. She’s really missing you.”

  “Please tell her I would love to see her again. I’ll call to confirm sometime during the week.”

  Maddy is pulling at my skirt. She’s ready to go. I bend down to pick her up and I hold her close to me while she plants little kisses all over my face. Eddie gives me a half hug and kisses me on my head. Twelve years old and so much taller than me.