Incredible Beauty (So Many Reasons)

by Missy Johnson

  The haziness begins to spread and I can no longer distinguish between reality and fantasy. As my grip on reality slips, I wonder if they’ve given me something…

  Chapter Seventeen

  Simon

  Leaning against the wall outside of Em’s room, I watched helplessly as nursing staff and doctors poured in and out of the room, none of them having the time to stop and tell me what was happening. I tried to listen to their shouts at each other, but that was worse than not knowing anything. Half hearing things like ‘low fetal heart rate’ and ‘blood pressure dropping’ was far from comforting. I clasped my hands behind my head, my palms sweaty from the stress I was feeling.

  Come on Em, stay with me. Fight, dammit!

  A young doctor who looked barely old enough to drink appeared by my side. I tried unsuccessfully to read his blank expression. I glanced past him to inside of Em’s room where they were wheeling her out.

  “We need to get this baby out now,” he explained, “the baby is in severe distress. If we wait any longer, you could lose them both.”

  “Okay,” I nodded, springing into step next to him as we followed the team of staff to the operating room. “And Em? How is she?”

  “Her blood pressure is high, but she’s okay, she’s stable. Your baby is our concern right now,” he added gravely. As we reached the entrance to the operating room, the doctor put his hand out to stop me.

  “I can’t be in there?” I asked, incredulous.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, “I will have someone come out to update you as the surgery progresses.”

  Waiting outside the delivery room was hell. Not being allowed in there with her made me feel anxious because I got the feeling they were expecting things to go wrong, which of course made me feel worse.

  Sitting by myself in the waiting bay, I glanced at my watch over and over, willing the time to pass. Every second seemed to exaggerate, what felt like an hour was only ten minutes. This was worse than watching paint dry. Cass was going to kill me for not telling her about the scare just after I spoke to her, but I didn't give a shit. The last thing I needed right now were other people here, seeing me like this…seeing me if I lost Em.

  “Simon?” I glanced up. Claire stood before me, looking hesitant. “I came to see if I could do anything and the nurses told me she was in surgery.” She sat down beside me.

  She was here, she wasn't...I didn't care either way.

  “How is she?” Claire asked, her hand brushing over mine. I jumped slightly at her touch.

  “I don't know.” I replied through gritted teeth. I pulled my hand back roughly, running it through my hair. “They haven't told me a fucking thing.” Anger and frustration laced my words and Claire winced at their delivery.

  God help me if I lost her.

  We sat in silence. Claire didn’t attempt conversation, she knew better than to try and talk to me, when I was like this. This had been the Simon she’d lived with for the last part of our marriage, unresponsive, angry and frustrated. Was Claire worried about me? Did she think I was going to break again? Reaching for her hand, I squeezed it, the silent gesture was all I could manage to let her know I was okay.

  Standing up to stretch my legs, I glanced at my watch again.

  How the hell can it take longer than an hour to deliver a baby? Something had to have gone wrong. Surely I would’ve heard something by now.

  “Stop thinking the worst, Si,” Claire murmured. I threw her a look. How could I not?

  “I should’ve heard something by now,” I replied simply. The words barely left my mouth when the young doctor emerged through the operating doors. My heart in my throat, I searched his expression for any hint of the news to come, but he gave away nothing.

  “Mr. Anderson,” he began, “let me start by saying things went well. Both your fiancé and daughter are stable. Your daughter is being transferred to a neonatal intensive care. She has underdeveloped lungs, but her heartbeat and vitals are strong,” he explained. I breathed out deeply, unaware that I'd been holding my breath.

  “And Emma?” I asked, vaguely aware that Claire was by my side now.

  “Emma is stable. She is still in a coma, but once her body has had a chance to recover from the trauma of the birth we will operate to remove the clot on her brain.” He hesitated for a second, which was long enough for me anticipate bad news coming. “They’re was extensive bleeding and scarring during the operation. I’m sorry, but we had to perform a hysterectomy.”

  ‘Oh,” I said, not sure what else to say. I’d barely gotten past the news that Em was okay, I couldn’t deal with anything else now. “How long will that be? Until she is stable enough for another surgery?” I asked, my head aching from all this new information.

  “Hopefully we will know more tomorrow,” he assured me.

  “And if the clot bursts before you can operate?” I asked.

  He hesitated. My body tensed, I felt Claire’s hand on my arm. “We will do our best to get to the clot before it hemorrhages.” he finally said. I sat back down.

  “When can I see them?” I asked.

  “You can see your daughter now, Emma, in a few hours when she's out of recovery.”

  We had a daughter. Emma had wanted a little girl, though she kept saying so long as the baby was healthy she’d be happy. I didn’t doubt that she would, but for Em there was something special about having a little girl and seeing her interact with Maddie I knew she was going to be a great mom. The doctor called out to a nurse who was sitting at the desk just down the hall from us.

  “Can you take Mr. Anderson down to neonatal, Trish?” he nodded at me, then disappeared back through the wide blue doors that separated us from the operating rooms.

  “I’ll let you go, Si,” Claire whispered to me.

  “You don’t want to meet my little girl?” I asked, a smile spreading across my face for the first time in days. Claire looked uncertain.

  “You don’t want me there,” she replied slowly, shaking her head.

  “Come on,” I coaxed, pushing her down the hall with me, “come meet my daughter.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Simon

  Relief flowed through me as we stepped out of the elevator and onto the neonatal ward. They had at least gone to some effort to make this section of the hospital look warm and inviting. Bright paint covered the walls, along with paintings of animals, numbers and letters. It sounded silly, but the intensive care unit left me feeling empty, as if they wanted my expectations of a positive outcome to be low. Here, I felt as though there was hope, that my baby at least had a chance.

  A nurse led us to a covered crib which she explained was distributing oxygen to bean. At first glance, all I could see were the many wires and tubes, all leading to machines that were keeping my little girl alive. I took a breath as I felt Claire gasp next to me.

  Then I saw her.

  Her translucent skin, she looked so delicate, as if she could break at the slightest touch. She was bigger than I was expecting, yet her body was still no bigger than my hand. Tears pricked my eyes, I should be sharing this moment with Em, not Claire.

  The tiniest cry filled the room, it took me a second to realize it came from my daughter. The nurse appeared beside me. She reached into the crib and gently lifted her out, carefully, so as not to disturb any of the tubes.

  “Would you like to hold your daughter?” she asked. I had no words as she gently placed her into my embrace. “She can’t be out of the crib for long,” she added.

  “She's so tiny.” I whispered. “So pretty.” I added, pulling back the pink and white blanket to reveal her face. I'd never understood when people pick likenesses between babies and their parents, but at that moment, I swear I saw Emma in my little girl’s eyes.

  “God Simon, she is adorable,” Claire whispered, reaching out to stroke her tiny little hand.

  “She is,” I agreed. “She’s beautiful,” I smiled, it was one of those giddy smiles that you just can’t wipe off your face. Em
would be so proud of our little girl and how strong and brave she was.

  “This reminds me of when Maddie was born,” Claire murmured next to me. I grinned at the memory. Holding Maddie for the first time following the twenty-two hour labor had been surreal.

  “Fuck that felt like such a long time,” I laughed. Claire gave me a look.

  “You felt like it was a long time? Try being the one pushing out the nine pound baby,” she shot back, smiling. Her arms snaked around my waist as she hugged me. “Congratulations Si, you have two beautiful little girls.”

  “I do, don’t l?” I smiled.

  “Simon?”

  I looked up to see Emma’s parents walking into the room. Leslie began to cry at the sight of her daughter. In the short time she’d been in hospital, she’d lost a lot of weight and I don’t think her mom had been expecting her to look this bad.

  “Oh god, my poor baby,” she sobbed, clutching the side of the bed, her hand fumbling for Emma’s. Garry hung back, half-heartedly trying to comfort his wife, but looking unsure on how to react to his daughter’s condition.

  “What’s happened? The nurse said she’d had the baby?”

  I nodded, “A little girl, she’s in the neonatal intensive care,” I explained. I felt for her mother, but at the same time I found it hard to sympathize with her. She didn’t really know Em, neither of them did.

  “Maria is coming over to see Emma,” I added. Her head snapped up.

  “Maria? You told Maria?” she asked, bewildered. “Why would you do that?” My eyes widened at the sound of her voice. Was she angry that I’d let Maria know?

  “She is her mother,” I pointed out, my tone condescending, even though it wasn’t intended to be, at least not consciously.

  “She’s not her mother, I’m her mother,” Leslie replied angrily, her face red and tear stained. “I’m the one who raised her-.”

  “No, you’re the one who let her down,” I corrected angrily, “You were less of a mother to her than Maria was and Maria had no choice because of you.”

  Leslie sobbed, collapsing down to her knees, her head resting in her hands.

  “I only ever tried to do what was best for her. After she was raped I didn’t know how to help her. I couldn’t fix it. She was all I ever wanted, a daughter and I let her down,” she sobbed.

  “Then make it right. Be there for her now. Support her relationship with Maria, better yet, fix your relationship with Maria,” I sighed, angry at myself for letting my emotions get the better of me in front of Em.

  “I might go and get a coffee, give you two some time alone with her.” I didn’t wait for an answer, instead I left the room, afraid of what I’d say if I hung around any longer.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Emma

  Sobbing. I can hear sobbing.

  “What if she never wakes up, Garry?” My mother. Or rather, my adoptive mother. I found it hard to know how to address her as mom now. Finding out my aunt was really my mother and my mother was my aunt had been shocking, but it had explained so much. So many questions had been answered, yet it had opened up another barrel of questions that were just waiting for answers.

  “Don't talk like that. What if she can hear you?”

  My dad. Wow, things must be bad for him to be here. Okay, that was a low blow. In his defense, he had been making an effort to reconnect with me since the abduction.

  “She's in a damn coma Garry, she can't hear!” mom wails softly.

  “That's it, get her out of here.” I could recognize that voice anywhere. Gran was here too? “For god’s sake, pull your shit together and be strong for her. If you can't do that, then you shouldn't be here.” gran hisses. If I was able to, I would laugh. I hear shuffling, which I think is the sound of mom and dad leaving the room.

  “Right girlie, now they are gone you and I can talk.” Her hand slips into mine, her skin soft and thin, like tissue paper. “So I have a lot to tell you Emma. First though, thank you for giving me the most beautiful granddaughter I could have ever hoped for.”

  Wait, what? The dull ache in my abdomen suddenly becomes incredibly intense. My baby was born. I am a mother. Simon and I have a little girl. I want to cry, but I can’t, I want to release the multitude of emotions that have built up inside and it kills me that I can’t. All I want to do drag myself out of whatever this was and see my baby.

  “She's beautiful,” gran continues, “Simon is with her right now. She is a little fighter, just like her mommy.” All I want is for my little girl to be safe and to be there to protect her, but if not, knowing she was healthy and with Simon was the next best thing.

  “What else? Well, I've met someone. You'd like him, Emma. His name is Herb, and he is eighty four, with a very healthy appetite for sex. He's even happy to experiment with different things. You'd be surprised how hard that is to find in an older man,” she adds, as if for some reasons she thinks that is important for me to know.

  This is what I need. Gran and her crazy stories. Gran certainly wasn't shy about her sex life and it was watch out to anyone who was embarrassed by that, namely mom. It was entertaining to say the least to hear gran talk about her conquests in front of mom.

  Gran stays for a while longer, until mom and dad finally came back into the room. They all left shortly after, not before mom bursts into tears again (and gran tells her off again).

  I close my eyes and drift off.

  I rouse from whatever state or place I’m in. Simon is holding my hand, telling me about our little girl.

  “She is a beauty, Em. She will be breaking boys,’ hearts before we know it,” he jokes. “Her little fingers are so tiny and she's just...amazing.” he finishes. His voice is coated with happiness, sadness and I think I can hear anger. “You need to come back to me. I need you, our baby needs you,” he growls, gripping my hand.

  And I need you. God how I need you.

  Chapter Twenty

  Simon

  Moving my empty coffee cup to the side of the table, I wiped my hand on my jeans to remove the sticky chocolaty froth that covered my fingers. I stare at the stain it forms, which is barely noticeable against the darkness of the fabric. I notice it though, I can see the ugly mark it leaves in its wake as it seeps through to my skin.

  God I was a mess. Literally. I hadn’t showered in days and I was in a need of a good shave. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to ease the dull ache that had been in my head for most of the day.

  I’d texted Cass and Tom to come in and now all that was left was to call mom.

  “Mom, hey, how are you?”

  “Simon? I’m good, how are you, how’s Emma?” mom sounded pleased to hear from me and as always, she asked about Em right away.

  “Mom, she’s not too good. They had to deliver the baby early and Em is in a coma. They’re not sure if she’ll make it,” I swallowed the massive lump blocking my throat as it suddenly became really difficult to breathe. I grabbed hold of my collar to try and loosen it.

  “Oh god Simon, I’m so sorry. The baby…”

  “She’s fine, mom,” I cut in.

  “A girl? I have a granddaughter? Oh Simon, I’m so…” her voice trailed off as she fought whether to grieve for Em or celebrate our daughter, “I wish I could get down there for you honey,” mom wept.

  “I know, its okay. I will call you as soon as there’s any news. Love you mom,” I added.

  Her tiny hand twitched as she slept. There was no feeling, more amazing than just sitting here and watching her sleep. When I wasn’t with Em, I was with our baby. For three days straight I had been at the hospital, wearing the same clothes I’d been wearing that day.

  “She’s going really well.”

  I looked up and smiled at the nurse as she checked the fluid bag connected to bean’s lung tube. There was less in there today again.

  “If she keeps this up she might be home in a few weeks,” she added.

  A few weeks? I thought of all the things I still needed to do to be ready for her a
t home, which was everything. I couldn’t take her home, not without Em.

  “Really?” I asked, feeling sick. “Surely she’s better off in here until Em gets better…” my words faded as I caught the expression on her face.

  No. I refused to give up hope

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Simon

  I checked in on Em before I left. Yes, I was actually going home to have a real meal, a shower and get some sleep. I was no good to anyone like this.

  Em was the same, no change which was good I suppose. The few moments before I entered her room every single time, I hoped I’d find her sitting up, smiling and talking, miraculously recovered. It broke my heart when that never happened.

  The cab driver was the same one that had taken me to the hospital two days earlier. When we reached home, he handed me his card before I got out, telling me to call him anytime I needed a lift.

  Inside, the house was so quiet. I turned on the TV and the stereo just to drown out the silence. My head was a mess, a combination of severe lack of sleep and stress. After ordering a pizza (my idea of a ‘proper’ meal), I ran the shower, disposing of my dirty clothes on the floor.

  Standing with one hand propped up against the white wall tiles, I let the near scalding water run down my body.

  Fuck it felt good.

  I couldn’t drag myself out from under the shower, only the ringing of the doorbell enough to spur me into action. Wrapping a towel around my waist, I ran to the door, calling out that I was on my way. I opened the door, shoved a twenty into the hand of the surprised delivery guy, grabbed my pizza and slammed the door.

  I grabbed a can of soda from the fridge, undeterred by the towel falling to the floor as I juggled the pizza box and can into the living room. Sinking into the couch, the smell of the pizza was making my stomach grumble. I lifted the box and grabbed a slice, regardless of the soggy bottom and the cheap sparse ingredients, it was the best damn thing I’d ever eaten.