by J. Lea
“You got married?” Connor draws his eyebrows together, pain slashing across his face. “So you’re married to Bradley, is this what you’re trying to tell me?”
“No, I’m not married. At least not anymore. I’m a widow. We were only married for a year and a half.” My heart tugs painfully at the thought.
“Why didn’t you tell me that before? If anyone knows how hard it is to lose a partner it’s me.” He really looks hurt.
“I know, but it’s so much more than just that. Please, let me talk.”
He nods, encouraging me to continue.
“Soon after the wedding I got pregnant. Nine months later, we had Faith.” Saying her name out loud hurts more than anything, and I feel like my lungs are suddenly not getting enough oxygen, but Connor can’t see that. He blinks in shock, speechless.
“Faith?” he says after several beats of silence. “Is she …?” He swallows hard.
I nod, tear-eyed. “Faith was the sun in my life, my everything. She was my first thought in the morning and the last thing on my mind at night. She just started walking when it happened.” It hurts, it hurts so badly. Tears fall freely down my cheeks. Every time I think about her, it feels like someone is stabbing me. Connor wraps his arms around me, and I surrender to his loving embrace, needing his closeness, his warmth. Crying out, I close my eyes, my voice keeps breaking as I try to speak. “I can’t, Connor, I can’t. I’m sorry, it hurts too much.” Breaking free from his arms, I rise to my feet.
“Baby, I know it’s hard for you, but I need to hear it. It’s important. You need to rid yourself of this huge burden. It breaks my heart seeing you hurting so much. You keep things bottled up, that’s not healthy. I’m sad that you don’t really trust me, not enough because you’re keeping secrets. And that hurts.”
“That’s not true.” My lower lip trembles. “I trust you more than anyone.”
“No.” He shakes his head, running his hands over his face. “Don’t you get it? If you did trust me you wouldn’t keep things from me. I gave you so many chances to open up to me, to share your secrets. People who love each other don’t keep secrets. They have trust in one another. It’s not like I wouldn’t understand. I was in your shoes, remember? My wife died.”
“But—”
“No, listen to me. It almost killed me, too, when Anabel was suddenly torn from me, you know that. I loved her, we were planning on growing old together, and then she was gone. I told you everything, shared my feelings with you.” His nostrils flare. “Didn’t keep a fucking secret!” Raking his fingers through his hair, he lets out a harsh breath.
Flinching at his voice, I start shaking my head. “It’s not the same. I lost a child! You don’t know what that feels like,” I explode, raising my voice. The moment the words leave my mouth I regret them. Connor looks like I slapped him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Every loss is painful. What I said was uncalled for. But I was her mother. I was supposed to protect her, and I did anything but. I failed her!”
“It wasn’t your fault.” This time his voice is calmer.
“You don’t know what happened!” I protest, agitated.
Walking to me, he takes my hand. “Then tell me.” Desperation in his voice is killing me.
My shoulders shake violently as I keep trying to tamp down the loud sobs. “I should’ve died instead of her. She had her whole life ahead of her.” Words get stuck in my throat. “I should’ve died!” I repeat. This time, Connor hugs me, squeezing me tightly, giving me comfort.
“Don’t say that.”
“She was only ten months old, Connor.” I can’t seem to stop the tears from falling, blurring my vision.
“I’m sorry, Everly. I’m so, so sorry.”
“I’ll never see her again. Or Bradley. They’re dead. They’re only a memory now. And I’m scared, terrified actually, that one day, even that memory will get blurry and disappear.” Stepping away from him, I walk to the door.
“Where are you going?” A flicker of sadness goes through his eyes.
“I’ll just go grab something in my room. Be right back.” Walking to my dresser, I pull Faith’s bear from the top drawer, and, clutching it to my chest, bring it to Connor’s room. The toy is tattered, but I can’t force myself to throw it away. It’s the only thing connecting me to Faith. To my little girl. I never spoke about her and my husband to anyone, except to Amber and my therapist; not that I didn’t want to, but because if I said it out loud, it would really mean they’re gone. It was easier to keep them in my heart instead. That way I could at least pretend.
“Besides a few photos, this is the only thing I have of Faith. Ava found it one day and brought it to me. I think I scared her when I pulled it out of her hands. I didn’t know how to react, couldn’t share it with anyone. I guess I wasn’t prepared. My mother bought it for Faith when she was one month old.” I smile at the memory, but it doesn’t stop the tears from falling.
“Do you want some water?” Connor asks.
I shake my head. “I’m not thirsty.”
“Wanna take a break or something?”
“Yeah, but I better not. I just want to get this over with.” I give him a small tearful smile.
“If you say so.” The way he says it breaks my heart. He wipes my tears with his thumb.
“So.” I nod. Best to get everything out in the open, once and for all. “It happened on New Year’s Eve, one of my favorite holidays at the time.”
“New Year’s Eve? They died on New Year’s Eve?”
“M-hm. Well, actually it was already after midnight, but close enough.” That’s why I hate this time of the year now. “I couldn’t wait for Faith to be old enough to help me put up the lights and Christmas tree. Anyway, the tree was decorated, thousands of lights hanging all over the place. Bradley and I were watching TV, it was getting late, about two in the morning. With the celebration behind us, I was tired and decided to call it a night. Bradley said he’d join me later.” I take a deep breath and continue. “I fell asleep. Next thing I know I’m awoken by Bradley’s screams. Oh, God, I can still hear them … At first, I thought I was just having a nightmare, but when I opened my eyes, his side of the bed was empty, and the room reeked of smoke. The smell was so strong, I’ll never forget it. I heard the snap and pop, so I ran to the door. As I opened it, I was thrown on my ass. Literally. Now, I didn’t just smell the fire, I was staring right at the flames consuming our house. Bradley kept yelling to call 911, but I sat frozen on the floor. I have no idea how long it took me to move, I couldn’t even get my brain to work. I just remember the sharp cries of my little baby girl cutting through the fog and the haze in my head.”
My eyes find Connor’s. There are tears in them. He looks broken.
“Connor, I’ve never heard cries like that. My heart was being ripped to shreds, and my head felt like it was going to explode. Bradley was trapped in Faith’s room, I could see them but I couldn’t get to them. I tried, God knows I tried. I was going crazy with worry. The fire spread all over the first floor, cutting me off from her nursery. I saw the panic and horror in Bradley’s eyes, as if he knew he wasn’t going to make it out alive, but there was also hope. Hope I could save him and our baby.” But I failed them. I was the one who let them down. Let them die. “I scrambled to my feet, searching for my phone but I left it in the living room. The hallway was filled with smoke, there was so much smoke, my lungs were burning, so I pressed the sleeve of my pajama top to my mouth and started crawling across the hall to the staircase. I could barely see, and I couldn’t stop coughing. I kept screaming for Bradley to talk to me, to tell me they’re okay, and it seemed like an eternity had passed before I managed to get to the living room. Just when I wanted to tell them I made it downstairs, the staircase became engulfed in flames, the black smoke billowing toward me, mocking me. The wood was crackling under the intense heat, I was so scared. Bradley called for me, asked if I was okay. My lungs were burning, and I wanted to throw up, but I managed to answer to
him. I remember standing in the living room, my phone in my hand, staring at the flames destroying my life. I could barely unlock my phone because my hands were shaking so badly. I didn’t have to call 911 though because I could hear sirens in the distance. I felt relief for a moment; one of the neighbors must have seen the fire and called them. I’ll never forget the last words I screamed to Bradley:
“Can you hear that? Help is almost here! Hold on just a little longer, and we’ll all be safe!”
And he yelled back, “Get out of the house, do you hear me? Get out of the house!”
“I won’t leave you,” I was determined to stay there until they’re saved. “Help is coming!” I ran to the window to check.
“Everly! Listen to me! Get outside and don’t look back!”
“No! I’m not leaving you! Is Faith okay?” I wanted to get upstairs to be with them, not caring in the slightest that I could get burned, I just needed to be with them.
“She’s with me, don’t worry, just get out!” he yelled, and I remember his voice hitching. He was crying, knowing full well they weren’t going to make it out of the house alive. But I didn’t hear Faith’s cry. Not a sound from her.
“I can’t, Bradley. Please …”
“We love you.”
“No, Bradley, don’t say that! Help’s here. They’re going to save you both!”
“Oh, God, no!” was the last thing I heard before something heavy fell on top of me, collapsing me to the floor.
Connor looks completely shaken up, he’s having difficulties processing my words.
“I woke up in the hospital two days later. I had a concussion and smoke inhalation poisoning. The doctors said I was lucky to still be alive. Ha, lucky.” A sarcastic laugh escapes me. “A large part of me died with them that night. Everything I loved disappeared in flames, gone forever. Puff, just like that. I wanted to die. God, I wished it was me who died, not them. And it was all my damn fault. If I didn’t go overboard with all those Christmas lights …”
“Don’t say that. It was an accident.”
I forgot to turn off the Christmas lights that night. Baking cookies, entertaining guests and celebrating took its toll on me and sleep was the only thing on my mind, especially since Faith refused to take a nap throughout the day and was fitful and whiny the whole time.
“No. It was my fault. It’s my fault they’re dead. I couldn’t handle the pain in the days that followed. Bradley’s last scream kept replaying in my head over and over again, terrorizing my waking hours and haunting my dreams. It still does sometimes. The absolute terror in his voice was the most horrific sound I’ve ever heard.”
“Enough,” Connor pleads. “Please, stop,” he begs me softly. “I understand now. I understand the panic, and the nightmares, and why you didn’t want to talk about yourself and your past. I thought you were exaggerating. I laughed at you. But now I know how very wrong I was. I’m sorry.” This time, I console him. He leans his head on my shoulder for support, his body shaking.
“Connor, that’s not all. This is just a part of the story.”
He carefully looks at me, blinking. “I’m afraid to hear the rest,” he admits. I palm his cheek, the way he usually does it to me.
“Please, let me tell you everything. I’m afraid if I don’t continue, I won’t gather enough courage the next time.”
He nods, kissing my forehead.
“The days following my release from the hospital were a mental haze of crying fits and refusing food, locking myself in my room. It was an endless circle of pain and sadness. I wanted them back; my whole body and heart were aching with the need to hold them in my arms one last time.” I sniff, looking at Connor. He looks crushed. “The doctor prescribed me some sleeping pills to help me sleep, and one day I took too many.” The constant, throbbing pain tugging at my insides was driving me insane, and all I wanted was to turn it off and sleep.”
I hear Connor’s sharp intake of breath, his eyes finding mine, studying them.
“I didn’t know it was going to land me in a hospital. I really didn’t realize how many I took. I was out like a light, and when I woke up, they were talking about substance abuse, assuming I was trying to kill myself,” I say quietly, ashamed. When I think back to that moment, I get sick. “I swear that wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to get rid of the pain. It hurt so bad. I felt so helpless.” Subconsciously, my thumb runs over the scars on my wrist. Connor’s eyes follow my movement. They bulge out when he sees the ugly little white lines.
“Is that what I think it is?” He grabs my hand so he can see better, frowning. “I can’t believe I never noticed them. Is that why you always wear these wide bracelets? To hide these scars?”
I nod slowly. “Yes. I did cut myself but not in the way you think. I never intended to take my life. It only got worse when I came home from the hospital this time. The nightmares wouldn’t stop, and I had to relive their death every single night. It was unbearable. I just wanted to make it stop.” My voice is full of regret. “The first time I cut myself, I felt relief. I was feeling some other kind of pain other than the one in my heart. After that, I didn’t feel any pain at all when I cut myself. Only relief. But it never lasted more than a few minutes.” I shake my head.
“How many times did …” He points his finger at my wrist, not even capable of saying it out loud.
“How many times did I cut myself?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“After the tenth cut, I stopped counting.”
“Fuck!” Connor rubs his jaw and starts pacing up and down the room. “You’re killing me here.”
“I lost my two greatest loves in that fire, and my home, clothes, everything with it. I even lost myself. My parents took me in. I usually cut myself in the bathroom before a shower. One time, I forgot to lock the door and in walked my Mom, who thought the bathroom was empty. That was the final straw. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw all that blood. She yelled at me, asking me what the hell I was doing to myself. She told Dad, and they called the doctor obviously. I was admitted to a psychiatric hospital. Mom swore it was for the best, that they will help me get better. For a while, I was in the closed ward, seething with resentment at my parents and the world. I told my Mom I never want to see her again, refusing to see them when they came to visit, eventually they stopped coming. But they called every day. Or so I was told, I never took their call. That’s how much I resented them for putting me in a mental hospital instead of being there for me. That helped me feel something other than pain – anger and resentment. God, I hated being locked up in a looney bin, even though I didn’t realize it at the time, that psychiatric hospital was the best thing for me. The hell I was in helped me gain back the feeling of self-worth, and they taught me to live with the pain, to accept and channel it. The road to recovery was long, it was filled with psychotherapy and antidepressants. Nights were still terrible but the nightmares subsided. I slept, read, listened to music. The therapist suggested I find a hobby as a distraction technique for when I felt the need to self-harm. That’s when I was introduced to yoga and meditation. They became my daily routine, my escape route.”
They still are.
“It took me a whole year before I was ready to enter the real world again. I was happy to leave but also scared out of my mind. I never called my parents to tell them I was out – even though they probably knew since they were in contact with the hospital every day. I pushed them away for what they did. And when I got better I couldn’t muster the courage to contact them. I was afraid my ugly words and horrible behavior made them hate me. I can’t express with words how sorry I am for acting the way I did, and I’ll always regret that. They were only trying to help me, trying to save me somehow. I know that now, but back then, I felt like the whole world was against me, I resented them for getting rid of me so easily. It’s been years since the last time I saw them.
“You should do something about that. They’re your parents. I’m sure they suffered throughout the whole
ordeal just like you did. They, too, lost two people they loved, their son-in-law and their granddaughter. And then they almost lost you, too. They’ve been through a lot, I bet they’d want to hear from you.”
“I will call them. Someday,” I promise.
“You keep fidgeting with the necklace. You always do this when you’re nervous.” Connor notes.
“Do I?” I haven’t even noticed. “It was a Christmas present from Bradley, right before everything went to hell.”
“Can I see it?” Connor moves closer to me.
Taking it off carefully, I place it in his palm.
“Do you have any pictures of them? I’d like to see what they looked like.”
I close my eyes, nodding. “In my wallet.” I show him our last photograph together. On it, Bradley is hugging his arm across my shoulders, and I’m holding Faith in my lap, all of us grinning. I remember the day it was taken. It was late fall, we went for a walk around the lake near our house. It was so hard to make Faith look at the camera and smile; it took us about fifteen tries before we got a perfect shot.
“Faith was beautiful. She looked like her father.”
“Yes, she was his spitting image. Even their characters were the same; both calm and patient.”
“You look different.”
I smile. “Yeah.” I had a different hair color and hairstyle back then. I colored my hair brown and wore it in a short bob cut because Faith loved yanking my hair when it was longer, stuffing it in her mouth in the process. “I look tired, though.” I remember the sleepless nights I spent with Faith who was teething and constantly cried from the pain. I’d give anything to be able to return to that time, walking around like a zombie all day long, just so I could spend one more moment with her. One single moment.
“No, you look happy.”
His comment brings a smile to my lips. “That’s because I was happy. I miss them. God, I miss them so much. My biggest regret was not telling them how much I loved them before they died. Bradley kept saying how much he loved me, and I told him to wait so he can say it to me later, in person. I was so sure help will arrive in time. I missed the opportunity to say goodbye. They died, and I didn’t tell them I loved them.” Tears rush down my face as I sob uncontrollably.