Elijah: The Cooper Brothers

by Ashton, Nikki

  I nodded. I did know it, but when he joked about not believing me, it pissed me off. We’d talked about it many times over the years and all three of them had supported me, Lucas had even been to see Amy’s parents, begging them to get her to talk to me, but they wouldn’t listen, only caring about how heartbroken their daughter was.

  “Can we change the subject?” I asked. “I just want to have a good night, some beers, a curry and the boxing – okay?”

  They all nodded or grunted as we settled back for the evening.

  * * *

  By the time the boxing finished at two in the morning, Alex and Lucas were passed out and it was just me and Sam still drinking beer and picking at left over poppadum.

  “You leaving them there?” Sam asked, pointing at the two men lying prone on either end of my sofa.

  “Yeah, I’ll get a blanket from upstairs.”

  “I’m surprised there’s not some nice, girly throw in here already.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Oh it will brother, believe me. She’ll have all her nice little knick-knacks in here before you even have time to scratch your arse. Thought they might be in here already. Didn’t you say she’d asked you to unpack a couple of boxes?”

  “Yeah she did.” I flicked the TV over trying to find something to distract us, finally settling on another repeat of The Office.

  “And why haven’t you?” Sam asked, once I’d put the remote down.

  I snapped my head in his direction, totally irritated by him. “What?”

  “Why haven’t you unpacked the boxes that Mia asked you to unpack?”

  “Does it matter?” I grumbled.

  Sam thought about it for a second. “No, not really, just seems strange you’ve had two weeks and still not unpacked them.”

  “What fucking point are you trying to make here, doctor fucking psychobabble?”

  “Didn’t say I was.” Sam grinned at me.

  “Don’t fucking mess with me, Sam. What the hell point are you trying to make?”

  “Seems to me you haven’t unpacked them, because you don’t actually want to unpack them, because you don’t actually want her here and you need to man-the-fuck-up, Eli. You need to tell that girl not to come back here.”

  My blood thundered in my ears as I looked at my brother, wanting to fucking punch him in the throat. With the tempo of my heart speeding up, I moved to the edge of my seat and pointed at him.

  “Where the fuck do you get off telling me how I feel, or what I should or shouldn’t say to my own girlfriend?”

  “Because I’m your bloody brother, man. I love you and I want what’s best for you, and pretending that you love Mia when you still love Amy, is not what’s best for you.

  You can’t deny that she moved in here on the wrong end of a conversation. There was no way you’d have asked her if she hadn’t misinterpreted what was said. The relief you’re feeling that she’s not here is fucking obvious, Eli. You’re more relaxed, your shoulders aren’t hunched under your fucking ears, and I haven’t once seen you pinch between your eyes.”

  I looked at him incredulously. Yes, that was a habit of mine when I was stressed, but I didn’t do it when Mia was around, I was sure I didn’t.

  “I don’t do that around Mia,” I protested.

  “Yeah you do, bro,” Sam sighed. “You don’t realise it, but you do. I’m not saying you don’t like her, you do – you may even think that you love her, and maybe you do, but is it really that gut-clenching, all consuming, heart squeezing love that you felt for Amy?”

  I breathed in and out deeply, my nostrils flaring as I watched my brother.

  “Eli, just fucking be honest with yourself, bro. If you feel all those things, well great, but if you don’t, please don’t waste your life on a relationship that doesn’t fulfil you. One that’s safe, just because you’re too fucking scared.”

  “Scared,” I hissed, glancing at Lucas as he stirred on the sofa. “What the fuck do I have to be scared of?”

  “You’re scared that your damn soulmate might just break your heart again, and that’s stopping you going out there,” he said as he pointed toward the window, “and making her listen to you when you tell her you never have and never would cheat on her, because you fucking love that women with everything you have Eli. You have since you were seventeen years old, and you have to make her believe that.”

  I reared back in my chair, staring at my brother whose eyes were wild with emotion. His biceps were tensed and his body taut as he inclined toward me, vehemently urging me to talk to Amy. I’d never seen him so agitated or emotional, not even when our grandad died.

  “Sam, what the hell-.”

  “I don’t want you to lose her, Eli. You’ve been without her for five years and it’s changed you from the happy, joyful brother I used to have.”

  “I haven’t changed,” I protested.

  “Yes you have, Eli. Yes you fucking have, and being with Mia isn’t going to bring my brother back, but being with Amy will.”

  “And what if that’s not what she wants?” I asked.

  Sam shook his head. “Of course she does. She never stopped loving you, it’s just Lauren Proctor did a fucking number on both of you. Amy was already in a bad headspace, she was emotional and fucking heartbroken already – Lauren just made sure it was well and truly annihilated.”

  I swallowed and took a deep breath as the cruel hand of memories reached inside of me, grabbed my heart, and twisted it. Those last few months of our marriage were full of some of the worst times in my life. Hideous memories that I tried hard to never let filter through.

  “Think about what she’d gone through a few months before. Both of you were only just starting to mend, finally you were getting there, but the pain was still evident in your face, Elijah. So if you were still feeling it, think what Amy must have been going through. That baby had been growing inside her, she was the one that went through it all. I know you held her hand every step of the way, and I know it was your baby too, but she was the one carrying it and she was the one who was supposed to be protecting it.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but Sam held his hand up to stop me.

  “I’m not saying she didn’t, or that it was her fault, it wasn’t, it was fucking nature in all its horrible glory, but that’s how Amy would have seen it. That’s why, when she saw what she saw that night, all logic went out of the window. Lauren screwed her over, but a sensible Amy, one who wasn’t in pain or full of guilt, would have stopped, screamed, and realised you were too fucking drunk to get it up, never mind have sex with the woman who’d made it her life’s mission to take you from her. It was the final straw for her already fragile heart, Eli.

  Yes, she should have listened to you, but she didn’t. No, she shouldn’t have run away to fucking London, but she did. And now she’s back. She’s calmer and healed, and even more important, I know she still loves you.”

  “Sam,” I groaned, rubbing a hand over my face. “I don’t know whether that’s true and I can’t risk telling her and have her tell me to fuck off, again.”

  “Grow a fucking pair,” a groggy voice croaked from the sofa.

  Sam and I looked at Lucas, who was pulling himself into a sitting position.

  “Sam’s right, Eli,” he said, rubbing his eyes. “She loves you and you love her, so go and fucking tell her.”

  I looked between my brother and friend, deciding I must be in a parallel universe where Sam and Lucas were relationship counsellors. Yes, they normally took the piss out of me and had digs about Mia, but this was on another level.

  “One thing you’re forgetting,” I said. “I have a girlfriend and for all I know Amy has a boyfriend.”

  “Well, you won’t know if you don’t ask, will you?” Sam said.

  Lucas looked at me expectantly and I knew they were right. I’d never know, if I didn’t ask.

  Elijah

  aged 22

  As I led Amy into the apartment, the heat in the place w
as stifling. There was a chill in the air, but it wasn’t so cold that the heating needed to be on so high. Sam probably thought he was doing the right thing. There was no sign of him, so I guessed he’d made himself scarce.

  “Do you want to lie down on the bed, or get on the sofa?” I asked, pushing some of Amy’s hair away from her sticky, tear-stained face.

  “I don’t mind,” she replied with a shrug. “Sofa, I suppose.”

  “Okay, ba-.”

  I stopped myself from saying the word that I thought might break the thin thread that Amy was hanging on by, since we’d found out our baby had died.

  We were three days away from our twelve week scan when Amy began to have terrible stomach cramps and bleeding, and within hours, our world fell apart. The nurse on the phone told us to get to A&E as soon as possible, but to try not to worry. We didn’t speak on the ten minute journey over there, or while we sat in the waiting room for almost an hour because three car crash victims had come in. Finally, a nurse called us through and only ten minutes later we knew, our baby was gone; there was no heartbeat.

  I held Amy’s hand the whole time, gripping it so tightly that she winced a little, but when I moved mine away, she quickly pulled it back. As the doctor talked to us, everything seemed a blur, and I knew what people meant when they described something as dreamlike. That was how if felt; voices were distorted, faces were blurred, and I was desperate to wake up. Then, as the nurse passed us both a tissue, Amy doubled over. At first I thought it was with grief, but when she cried out and nearly fell from the bed, the doctor explained that it was probably the final stages.

  Two hours later, Amy had another scan and it was all over. According to the doctor, it had been a complete miscarriage; there was no pregnancy tissue left, so no need for any further procedure, we were simply sent home with instructions on what might happen and for Amy to make an appointment to see her doctor.

  I’d called Sam and our parents and told them, repeating like a robot what the doctor had said. When my mum broke down, I almost lost it, so when Amy’s mum did too, I slid down the wall crying like a child, unable to get any further words out. They’d all wanted to come to the hospital or to the apartment, but I’d urged them not to, telling them we needed to be alone.

  As I settled Amy on the sofa, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and looked down at it.

  Sam: Hey Eli. I’m staying at mum and dads tonight. I turned the heating up and got you some Chinese food in case either of you feel like eating. It’s in the fridge. I’m so sorry bro. I know how much you both wanted this. Mum says call if you need anything. Love you both.

  I put the phone back without responding and got onto the sofa with Amy. As soon as I was settled, I took her hand and pulled it gently.

  “Come here,” I whispered.

  She nodded as she chewed her lip, looking up at me with thick tears brimming at her eyelashes. She crawled between my legs and wrapping an arm around my waist, she laid her cheek on my chest. Despite the warmth of the flat, I grabbed a throw off the back of the sofa and put it over us, cocooning us together.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice quiet and broken.

  “Hey,” I replied, lifting her chin so our eyes met. “Don’t say that. You have nothing to be sorry for. It happened and not because of anything you or I did or didn’t do, you understand that?”

  “But she was inside me, Elijah. I was the one who was supposed to take care of her.”

  I winced at her calling the baby a she. We had no idea really, but Amy was positive that we were having a little girl and the last week or so had started to call her Pinky Boo, telling me it was a lovely name to call our first child. Obviously we weren’t going to, but Amy loved to make me squirm.

  “And you did that job perfectly,” I said, taking in a shaky breath. “There was something wrong that neither of us could know about.”

  “What if it was because I forgot to take my folic acid? I didn’t take it twice last week.”

  “It won’t be that. The doctor said, these things happen for no particular reason before twelve weeks.”

  “We were so close,” she whispered, wrapping her arm tighter around me.

  I kissed the top of her head and fought back the words, ‘we can try again’, because I wouldn’t want to hear them, so why on earth would Amy.

  “I know, and I wish things could have been different.”

  Amy shifted as she looked up at me. “How are you feeling?” she asked, running a finger down my nose. “You’ve been taking care of me, but what about you?”

  I swallowed and closed my eyes. I couldn’t lie to her, that wasn’t what we were about. Amy and I were honest with each other, no matter what.

  “I’m fucking heartbroken. I want to wake up and it all be a fucking horrible nightmare. I want to scream and shout and ask why us, why our baby. I want to wrap you up and keep you safe and I just want for everyone to stay away until we’ve had time to grieve.” I looked down at her, tears dripping from the end of my nose. “I want our baby back.”

  Amy let out a sob and crashed her lips to mine, whispering her love and sorrow as our tears mingled together. We lay on the sofa together all night, barely sleeping until finally at around dawn, we both drifted into our own nightmares and dreams, but still clinging to each other for comfort.

  It was the worst time in my life and the only comfort was my beautiful wife in my arms, the place where during the early hours, she’d promised to always stay, no matter what.

  Amy

  aged 28

  The warm spring weather had broken and the rain had pelted down for two days, thankfully though, it had finally abated with the sun shining through the clouds. It seemed pretty fitting, seeing as I was walking through the park on my way to the old chestnut tree right on the far perimeter, to lay some flowers there.

  When we lost the baby, Elijah and I walked here every day for over a week, just to be able to have some time alone, away from our family and friends who were trying hard to be supportive, but not really knowing what to do or say. We eventually agreed that we would go back one last time and place some flowers there. On that last day I took a bunch of daisies with me and we agreed we wouldn’t go back until the baby’s due date, and would return every year. It was with a lot of guilt and sadness that I’d missed them while I’d been in London, but I’d always bought a small bunch of flowers and laid them in a park near to wherever I was.

  As my feet padded across the damp grass, I drew in a deep breath, scared at how I was going to feel being back there. Elijah and I had been grieving for our lost child when we were last at the tree, but we’d also been stronger than ever as a couple, or so I thought. We’d clung to each other, not wanting to be apart and holding each other all night, every night.

  We were aware that miscarriages happened to a lot of people, and one stupid bitch of a woman who knew my mum, who saw us in the supermarket one day, even said at eleven weeks it wasn’t even a baby yet. Elijah had had to hold me back from slapping her. I was so angry and screamed that she was a heartless bitch. Could she not see our devastation? Did she not understand it didn’t matter how far along I was, or how young we were, or how we had plenty of time to try again – we’d lost a piece of our future. Our baby was gone, with all our hopes and dreams for the family we were going to be.

  Elijah held me up during those first dark weeks, we held each other up and guided each other through the myriad of emotions that hit us like a train on a daily basis. He was my rock and yet I forgot it all the night I walked in on him and Lauren; the night that a few drinks brought my world crashing down even heavier than before.

  Trying not to give it anymore of my time, I walked the final steps to the tree. As I laid a palm against its rough trunk and looked up through the branches and leaves to the weak sun peeking through the clouds, I felt a small sense of peace. Neither Elijah nor I had any other affiliation to it, other than it seemed to be our beacon on every walk we took in the first few weeks a
fter our lives were shattered. Now though, being there, I knew it was where I would always feel close to my baby. I’d always joked it was a girl and called her Pinky Boo, which Elijah hated, but we never knew. When we talked into the early hours, we decided that we couldn’t just keeping calling it the baby, but the more we talked, the more it became a little boy whom we called Dylan. A little boy who we decided would have had my amber coloured eyes, but Elijah’s dark hair and his nose, without the little bump. He would have grown up to be a gardener like his daddy, but would have been an amazing lead guitarist in a band and the girls would have loved him.

  I told my dad once, about how we talked about Dylan and his life, he thought it was maudlin and not healthy, but it really helped us both and somehow eased some of the pain; for the duration of our conversations at least.

  With a sigh, I bent to place the pretty primroses I’d bought from the local florist on the grass and then kissed my fingers and placed them on the trunk.

  “Sleep tight,” I whispered, closing my eyes and taking in the silence.

  “Hey,” a quiet voice said behind me.

  Startled, I turned quickly.

  “Eli.”

  “You brought primroses.” He nodded toward the flowers and then held up his own. “Great minds.”

  I smiled at the bunch of matching flowers in his hand, but I could tell instantly his were not shop bought.

  “Your dad’s garden?” I asked.

  Elijah looked down at the flowers and grinned. “Yeah. It was these or daffodils, which were probably more fitting for a name like Dylan, being Welsh.”

  “I guess so,” I said around a quiet laugh. “So, you come every year?”

  Elijah nodded. “I always come alone, it gives me time to think.”

  “I never forgot,” I replied, feeling the need to explain. “I just went to a different park, but it was never the same.”