“I have to do this, Marty.”
When a few seconds passed without a response, I looked at my cell, and the call had been disconnected. I had already set the deed in motion. There was no turning back.
When we reached New York three days later, Ari was full of questions. I tried answering them as honestly as I could.
“Mommy needs to work in New York for a little while, and it’s so close to Aunt Beth. We can see her every weekend if we want.”
“Why?”
“Daddy has to work in his office.”
“Why?”
“Yes, we’ll go home again,” I said, unsure of this one. I didn’t know if home would ever be the same.
Same response. “Why?”
He was inquisitive about the extra layers of clothing, and why a cloud formed when he spoke. He would try to grab it with his mittened fingers, to no avail. And when it snowed that first afternoon, I saw the marvel and delight in his innocent eyes. It made me wish for my own personal innocence to be returned to me, that I could feel that wondrous delight again. And I wished Marty could see Ari’s face too.
We settled into a hotel near Times Square. It was a little too touristy for my taste, but it was nearby a children’s museum and a stone’s throw from the new Toys R Us. Ari became fixated when he caught sight of the life-size ferris wheel. I could see MTV’s offices from my window, a reminder of Marty. If I turned in its direction, there was a mammoth billboard with Stella emblazoned across the front, a reminder of things gone wrong.
Marty would call to speak with Ari, and I’d give him updates, but he and I never talked for long, the conversation more an exchange of insults—short, empty words meant to hurt. His pricking insults stayed with me throughout the day, further affirmation that he’d given up on us.
The day before the procedure, I had been visiting with Michelle—she was completing the second week of chemo using one of the newer anti-cancer medications. She was tired, her joints ached, and all of her hair had fallen out. I brought her a baseball cap, the Yankees, her favorite. Her maturity on many levels astounded me. I didn’t remember ever being as brave, though I’d never faced the battle that she was caught in. “I’m not so brave,” she’d tell me, and the commonality between us grew more apparent. We had grown close to one another in such a short time. She knew what I was sacrificing for her. But I was as insistent as she was defiant and not nearly as optimistic.
“There’s a one-in-four possibility this baby will have the identical tissue type necessary for the transplant. The odds of matching an unrelated donor are one in a hundred,” I’d tell her, having studied the donor registry, memorizing the essential statistics.
She’d listen to the numbers, and I’d remember she was just a kid, a fragile bird with a lot more than a broken wing. Her loyalty to her parents was admirable, yet the friendship she offered me filled the twelve years we were apart. My daughter was a deeply intoxicating person. I wished for more years to share with her, to learn all I could.
“Tell me about Ari,” she’d ask. “Do we look alike at all?” And before I’d finish describing him, before the picture was out of my wallet, she was asking about her grandmother, wanting to know if she could meet them, if it would be okay. We left out the parts about the man I was married to. I didn’t bring him up and neither did she.
Jonas entered the room as I was walking out the door, explaining how he had to see his girl. I heard Michelle whisper, “Which one?” and I shot her a look before walking out. We were both pretty taken by our daughter. Neither of us could escape the remnants of that summer when the end result, this precious child, was the reminder of what we had once shared.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, when he stepped from her room and saw me there with my hand cupping my mouth. I always laughed when I saw Jonas in his fatigues with his Looney Tune stethoscope around his neck. Today he looked even more grown-up and more handsome in his getup. Whether it was cheerfulness or Michelle’s stable status, I wasn’t in the mood to be distant. “You look cute,” I said.
“Then why don’t you have dinner with me tonight?” he asked.
Beth and Paul had offered to take Ari to Washington, DC for a couple of days to test out their parenting skills, and Ari couldn’t have been more excited. I wanted to say no. Everything told me to resist, but I answered, “Okay.” The alternative would have been room service, which I was growing tired of. Besides, Jonas was going to be a part of my life. We were publicly stepping out, addressing the world with our association. There was no more hiding what we once felt for each other.
“Good,” he answered. “I just need a little time with her. Why don’t you meet me downstairs in the lobby in fifteen minutes?”
“Make it thirty,” I said. “I need to make a call.”
After settling downstairs, I found my cell phone in my bag and checked my watch for the time. It was two o’clock in LA. I needed to hear his voice. Maybe he would be calm. Maybe he would reason with me. Marla answered on the first ring. She never had a reason to be discreet with me before, and now she was dancing around something that sent warning bells off in my head.
“He’s out of the office for the next two days,” was all she said.
I knew better than to ask the poor woman for more. She was already uncomfortable enough. So I dialed his cell phone, but he didn’t pick up.
As further confirmation of what I’d already believed to be true, I got up from the chair, found the nearest bathroom, and prematurely threw up.
Jonas found me pale and upset in the lobby. I contributed it to nerves, and he believed me, but then he became worried. I wasn’t up for dinner, but he was adamant, dragging me to his car, taking me to the hotel, and insisting that I get cleaned up and changed while he waited downstairs.
“Miracles don’t happen that fast,” I told him.
“Get going. I’ll take a ride around the block if I have to. With this traffic, you’ll have plenty of time.” He was probably right. I felt too depressed to care.
I went upstairs and tried Marty again. No answer. I called Beth and Ari in Washington and found them in good spirits, which peaked my mood, somewhat.
I headed downstairs, unaware of what the night would bring. How could Marty do this to us? Even though I’d always known what he was capable of, jealousy and distrust never interfered with the life we built together. When we found each other, two halves became whole, and it was always enough. Had I pushed him to it? Losing Joshua had cost us a lot. I guess some people grieved in one way, others grieved in another.
Jonas was waiting for me downstairs, as promised, a grin stretched across his face. I wanted to accept the smile and send him one back, but the suspicion I was holding onto prevented me from having any control over my facial muscles. Instead, he helped me with my coat, and we took off in his car through the streets of the city.
CHAPTER 38
Dinner was at a quaint restaurant in Chelsea. The food was delicious, and I even allowed myself the luxury of a glass of wine to loosen my stiffened body. We discussed Michelle at length, and then turned our attention toward the supremely “out of the ordinary” mission we would be embarking on the next day.
Jonas began. “I know I said I wanted to raise the baby, but I don’t think I can do that to you. Listening to the way you talk about your son, watching my patients with their mothers, a bond between a mother and a child is sacred.”
“What about you? Dads are just as important.”
“We’ll figure out visitation, weekends, summers, whatever it is.”
“Should I be hiring an attorney?” I laughed. “We sound like a couple that’s getting separated.”
“Only there’s no requisite sadness.”
“We had that first…”
“It won’t get contentious,” he said. “I promise.”
“It can’t,” I said. “This baby represents too much hopefulness.”
“And she’ll be loved by both of us, no matter where we are.”
; “She?” I asked.
“I’m a sucker for my girls. You know that.”
Sitting there at that table, we were sorting out the leftover questions thrown at us—Would we tell her what she did for her sister? Why her parents are not together?
“Who needs to know?” he asked.
I said, “She will, people, the press.”
The important questions had already been asked through the handful of articles we pored over—skeptics challenging us like we were harvesting corn and not a live human being. Condemning our decision only united us further in the pursuit to save our child. If there was any doubt on either of our behalfs, we hid it well. Understanding the ramifications of our actions, we were prepared to defend our cause publicly—if it got to that point. The broad spectrum of issues spread out before us. The moral and social implications raised all kinds of red flags. “Selective breeding,” said one article, “is debatable, even for married couples. Divorced couples producing a child to save the child from their previous marriage exceeds the definition of unethical.” Jonas and I didn’t fall into this category either. Imagine what they would think of us then. And yet, other articles supported what we were doing. “What better reason to bring a child into the world than to save a life? People have children to save bad marriages or by accident. Aren’t those reasons for conceiving just as questionable?”
There was also the issue of prenatal testing. The Center for Bioethics and Human Dignity had the strongest argument. When I pulled up what they had to say on their Web site, it opened up the whole debate between viable and non-viable: “Prenatal genetic diagnosis involves the intentional destruction of nascent human life and is therefore contrary to the principle of the sanctity of human life. It cannot be disputed that the embryo is human and is a human. To destroy an embryo is to cut short a human life that has already begun.”
A number of psychologists in the fertility office outlined the long-term effects, one being the burden the children carry with them when they are told of their conception and the role in their sibling’s life. Others expressed concern over the possibility of Michelle’s relapse and how the new child would be further burdened with the responsibility of partaking in another medical procedure to save their sick sibling a second or even third time.
And still we moved forward with the testing.
The response I found the most interesting was a baseless remark by a hospital staffer who said that we were treating this child as a pawn, acting selfishly and “Orwellian.” Jonas looked at this woman and said, “Reproduction between me and my future wife has absolutely nothing to do with you.” Then he put his arm around me and we walked away.
That’s when it became impossible for me to continue living in denial about the harder questions, the ones I wouldn’t discuss with anyone. Was this child the beginning of something more between Jonas and me?
After dinner, we decided to go for a walk. Jonas said, “You’ll have to have that serious mother/daughter conversation with her to explain sex and relationships and why protection is a must.”
“You’ll have to explain to her why sometimes loving someone isn’t enough.”
“Maybe she’ll never have to go through that,” he said, before adding, “You’re very brave to do this.”
“So are you.”
“I don’t have a husband and another child at home,” he said. “You’re making a tremendous sacrifice.”
If it were on my tongue all those years, I hadn’t been aware of it, but it slipped out simply and without reservation. “I would have done anything for you.”
“This is for Michelle,” he said, a casual arm thrown over my shoulder.
He was right in reminding me. I was doing this to save our daughter. Jonas, the man I had once loved with every fiber of my being, just happened to be her father.
“You know,” I said, “I didn’t plan to have sex with you that night. I didn’t think it through. I never thought it would actually happen.”
“Neither did I. And I didn’t need it to feel close to you either. I felt close to you long before that night.”
If I spoke right then, everything I’d been trying to hold in would have leaked out.
He said, “It happened because I wanted it to happen, and because I loved you.”
Something about the way he said it made everything complete. The uncertainty that plagued me for years dissipated and flew off into the air.
I said, “I remember when I found out I was pregnant. I didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or miserable. I thought about the life we could have had together. I didn’t think it was possible to love someone the way I loved you. It was this feeling that was just there—no matter how hard I tried to fight it, no matter how much I knew it was wrong. You were this part of me that took up all this space inside.”
He stopped walking and turned to face me. “I’m glad you didn’t give her up,” he said. “I’m glad there’s life in this world because of us. I’m glad there’s a part of you and me that is still together, even if we can’t be.”
His eyes bore into mine, the way I used to love staring into them, pulling me closer. I didn’t know if it was the wine or if I was finally allowing Jonas back in. I wanted him to hold me. I wanted him to touch me. There were words for what I was feeling, even though they weren’t readily accessible to me. I could feel them in the tightening of my chest. “That’s why it means so much to do this for her,” I said. “The thought of losing her, the thought of her dying, it’s unacceptable. If she dies, who will attest to all those feelings we had? How will anybody know how important we once were?”
I hadn’t really expected an answer. Jonas was never really good at giving them, and I was a woman who needed understanding and solutions. When loving me wasn’t enough, he walked away, and everything he’d been meaning to say was hidden inside him.
“She’s not going to die, Jess. We’re going to see this thing through. I promise you, and I know I haven’t made you many promises in the past, none more significant than this one, but I’ll do whatever it takes to save her.” He took my hand into his when he said this, and I didn’t pull away. Instead, I allowed his fingers to clasp around mine, just like I had when we were young and I was in love. “Michelle exists, but she didn’t have to for me to know what you meant to me. What we shared was better than anything I’d ever had. However short a time, however limited, it was something I keep close to my heart. It existed, Jess. Nothing will ever change that.”
I’d been waiting to hear those words for too many years.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you wanted,” he said. “I’m sorrier for myself because I know now what I lost. You were all I wanted and I blew it. I spent so much time worrying about failing Emily, I didn’t see how I’d failed myself and you.”
“You were the first boy I ever loved. I don’t know what went wrong with us. Maybe it was just bad timing,” I said, looking him in the eyes, no longer intimidated. “I don’t know that I’ll ever get over that; parts of you have stayed with me even when I wish them gone.”
I didn’t let go of his hand. I hadn’t wanted to. I wanted to be close to him, close to someone, to feel safe and loved, like I hadn’t in too many months.
“I lost a child before.”
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. When a parent loses a child, there are no words.
“I was almost nine months pregnant.”
“You don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” I looked at him, “but I want to. You were there with me that day.” Before the words were even out of my mouth, I realized what I was doing. I stopped the rest from coming out.
“You were always starting a thought and never finishing,” he said.
“I could say the same about you. You started a lot of things you didn’t finish.”
“Finish the thought,” he said.
“I don’t know, Jonas. I’d been living with this thing inside of me, this premonition of doom. When I was leaving a mus
ic convention that I really had no business being at, and you know me with the music dial, there it was, that song, playing, just when I’d least expected it, just when I thought there’d be no possible way it could affect me.”
We reached an empty park and stepped inside. He was close to me and edging closer, waiting for me to go on, knowing what I was about to say. “I’d long since forgotten, really, I had. My life was different, better. Years had even passed without me thinking of you. When I heard the song on the radio, everything came back. Even in my better life, you were never really gone. I only learned to hide you better. That’s the last thing I remember.”
He was watching me, and it occurred to me that he might kiss me.
I wasn’t sure I’d turn away.
“It was a little boy, a beautiful baby boy. I didn’t see him, but that’s what they told me.”
Having his lips on mine might have eased the burden of my mistake. If only I hadn’t been there in the first place. If only I hadn’t turned the radio dial. If only I hadn’t happened across that song that set my mind in motion. If only I had been anywhere other than on the road and in a heavy machine that was cradling my unborn child and me. If only…a whole host of details that could have been different, and Joshua would be alive today.
“This baby’s not going to bring your son back.”
“I know. My husband already reminded me. Somehow it feels better hearing it from you.”
“Jess…”
I knew what he was about to say. I knew what he wanted from me. I saw it all over his face. I felt it in his grasp. He was twenty-two and beautiful, and he was loving me and filling up every hole in my body. He was considering this was his last chance to give me the life I had once wanted, with him, and it was hard to walk away from that when the memory of what we shared, what we had once meant to each another, made me shiver. If I thought the pull toward him would diminish over time, I was wrong. No time had passed since that night.
What We Leave Behind Page 31