by Abby Brooks
“A couple hours?” Michelle widens her eyes. “How much food do you think we can eat?”
I point at her belly. “I’ve heard what that thing can do when it gets hungry.” I want to point out that she needs extra nutrients to feed the life growing in her belly, but we haven’t told Claire about the baby yet. We haven’t told anyone yet. We decided to wait until she’s out of her first trimester and that’s right around the corner. Maybe we’ll announce the pregnancy and the engagement at the same time. The thought makes me smile.
Michelle makes a face and slaps me on the arm. “My growling stomach is not that bad.”
Claire giggles. “It’s bad, Momma.”
I draw my girls in for a hug, kissing Michelle on the lips and wrapping my arm around Claire. “Maybe you two can get some sleep while I’m gone so we can stay up late.”
Michelle lets out a little humming sigh. “A nap sounds really nice.” She leans her head against my chest. “I think I’ll climb into bed as soon as you head out.”
“You lock this door. Deadbolt and everything.”
“Deadbolt and everything.” Michelle slides her hands into my back pockets and presses her body to mine, tilting her face up for a kiss.
I don’t know what I did to deserve her, but I swear, I’m going to do everything I can to make sure I never lose her.
MICHELLE
I can’t breathe. Claire’s screaming. I’m sweating. I cough and sit up. Disoriented. So much smoke. I cough again. Where’s David? My eyes sting and water.
“Momma!” Claire shrieks.
The snap and flicker of fire casts undulating shadows. Black smoke chokes me. Where’s David? I stand. An offhand thought:
I’m just gonna lie down for a little bit until David gets home, Bear. You good to play in your room?
Claire smiles. Like sunshine and happiness. She giggles like music.
“Momma!” Nails rake down a chalkboard. So much terror in a tiny voice. She coughs and it eats the rest of her words.
I stand and the world spins. “I’m coming.” Coughs rack my body. I stumble towards the door. Head fuzzy. Can’t breathe. Dear God, the whole outside wall is flames. Claire screams and my belly clenches. Need to get to Claire.
My daughter.
My daughter needs me and the house is on fire.
Need to breathe. Deep breath and deeper coughs. Bend over. Hands on knees. Head spinning. World fading. Fire glowing.
“Mommy! What do I do?” She races down the hallway into my room. “I fell asleep.” She coughs, bending down under the weight of it. “Fire is everywhere.” Tears stream down her soot-streaked face and she sways on her feet.
“Let’s … get out …” My lungs are ash. My voice is glass, shattered and sharp, raking along my decimated throat.
A pop. A bang. The roar of the fire burns my ears and sweat mats my hair to my forehead. Everything hurts. My heart is a herd of frightened horses, trying to break through the cage of my ribs.
Fire everywhere. My house is on fire and the world is spinning and up is down and down is up and I have to get us out of here.
Black circles my vision. Darkness encroaching like vultures circling prey. The wail of sirens—help is near but I have to get us out. I have to escape the burning ruins that used to be our house.
Claire succumbs to a coughing fit and then collapses, her eyes rolling back in her head. I catch her on the way down but fall, knocked to the floor as the world swims around me.
I draw her close. One hand on my belly. No. Use that hand to cover my face with my shirt. Breathe through that. A filter. The air burns my skin. My mascara melts, clumping my eyelashes together. Sweat mixes with smoke and stings my eyes.
I lift her limp body and stumble down the hallway. Her room is hell. Fire licking along the walls, up the curtains the landlord said to leave. I cough and Claire slips from my grasp. We slide to the floor. My little girl. Crumpled and small. My Claire Bear. My life. My strength is waning but I have to get her out. Have to save her. Have to.
I cradle her close. The air is better down here near the floor. Holding her tight to my body with one arm, I crawl towards the door on my free hand. My body shakes. Something wrenches in my gut and I scream but I’m close. So close to getting us out.
From my place on the floor, I yank on the front door. The handle spins but the door doesn’t budge. The deadbolt. Damn it. I promised David I would lock the deadbolt. I stand, hauling Claire up with me, drawing billowing black smoke into my chest. Another wrench in my belly. A knife, tearing through muscle. Claire’s limp body presses me towards the floor. My fingers are numb as I fumble against the lock.
Voices on the other side of the door. Help is here.
“I can’t open the door!” I scream and choke.
“Stand back.” The deep rumble of a strong voice carries over the fire. “We’re going to get you out of here but you need to stand back.”
The thump of an axe against the door. My knees go weak. I drop to the floor as the door splinters and disintegrates. Strong hands on my body, panicked voices in my ear, and then, nothing.
DAVID
It took longer than I expected at the store and I may have gone a little overboard with everything I bought. Did I need to buy a brand-new fire pit just for one night of s’mores for Claire? No. But I did anyway. Did I need to stop at three different stores to get everyone’s favorite dinner, snacks, and desserts? No. But I did anyway. Because I want this night to be special and nothing is too good for my girls.
But at this point, if I really want this night to be special, I need to get back to them before they fall asleep for good. Night fell while I was out and we’re quickly inching past Claire’s bedtime. After one last stop, I make the short trip back to her, my fingers drumming the steering wheel as I sing along to the radio.
I see it before I understand it. The glow of something down the street, at first barely visible through the houses and the trees that surround them and then, unmistakable. The flicker and twitch of shadows dancing with flames. The whirl of lights atop emergency vehicles. People standing in the street, watching the firefighters battle the flames while they record everything on their phones.
I stomp on the brake pedal and get out of the truck without closing the door. Run the rest of the way to the house. I’ll fight my way through the fire if I have to. I will not be too late this time, not like I was with Maggie. A policeman stops me, his hand on my chest while another man grabs my arm.
“You can’t go up there.”
I push past him, struggling out of his grasp. “My family is in there.”
More officers converge on me. “Sir, you can’t go any further.” More hands on my arms and chest, trying to stop me but I won’t let them, damn it. My girls need me and I will not let them down.
I whirl. The world smells of burning things. My nose tickles and runs and I wipe it with the back of my hand. “My family is in there.”
My heart stutters and my body goes cold. Michelle. Claire with her blond hair like Maggie’s. The baby. The family I didn’t think I could love, the people who now own my heart.
I can’t go through this again.
I can’t lose them.
Not like this.
Not again.
“Sir?”
An officer leans forward to catch my attention. He’s talking to me but I can’t hear him. Fire licks through the walls and windows of the house. The beams and supports are black and charred, visible through disintegrating siding like bones through rotting flesh. Water douses flames, and steam hisses and boils. People shout and the smell chokes me from here.
“My family is in there.” I push against the officers again. “You have to let me get to them.” I am a feral animal, running out of patience and ready to attack.
“We pulled a woman and girl out of the house. Is anyone else inside?”
“Where are they?” I strain to find them in the crowd. Fuck, my heart is pounding too fast. I can’t breathe. “Are they okay?
”
“Is there anyone else in the house?”
“No, goddammit! Now please take me to see my girls.” My fists clench and my heart expands against my lungs and smoke stings my eyes. I swipe at them with the back of my hand and fight the need to plant my fist in this guy’s face.
“They’re en route to Grayson Memorial.”
My knees soften and the only thing keeping me upright is the sheer force of my will. The man keeps talking but I have no idea what he says. I turn on my heel and run back to my truck.
The demon voice of anxiety perches on my shoulders and whispers horrible things in my ears. Maggie in the tub, her hair streaming around her. White roses around her grave. The casket, so small as they lower it beneath the earth. Claire’s blond ponytail bouncing as she runs beside Pogo. The singed remains of the house, smoking and ruined. And Michelle, with our baby in her stomach. I imagine her crying. Screaming for help. Screaming for me as flames lick her body. And I wasn’t there.
The Maggie-sized hole in my heart tears even further, making space for Claire and Michelle and a baby not yet strong enough to see this world. Scar tissue ruptures and bleeds.
I can’t do this again.
My heart shatters and reforms, old wounds becoming new again and I stitch them back up and lock it all away. I can’t go through this again. I can’t.
I can’t.
The drive to Grayson Memorial ends before I realize it began. An hour passes in the blink of an eye. I push through the front doors and sprint to the desk. The woman in charge moves so slowly, so carelessly, I want to climb over the counter and find Michelle’s name on the screen myself.
“David?”
I turn towards the voice. Michelle’s friend Bailey races towards me, looking small and worried in her oversized scrubs. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come on, I’ll take you to her.”
“Are they okay?” I run my hand over my face. “No one will tell me anything.”
Bailey’s face closes down and she leads me through a set of double doors to an empty hallway. “I can lose my job for telling you anything because you’re not her husband.” She whispers to me as her gaze darts down the hallway.
“That’s bullshit.” I fist my hands in my hair. If people don’t start giving me answers, then I’m going to lose my mind.
Bailey lets out a breath. “In this case, I agree. Follow me. I’ll take you to her and explain everything I can when we get there.” She takes off down the hallway.
“What about Claire? Is she with Michelle?”
Bailey glances behind us and then whispers her answer. “Claire is unconscious. She’s intubated—”
Fuck this medical lingo. “What’s that mean?”
Bailey doesn’t flinch. “They’ve put a tube down her throat to keep it from swelling shut and to make sure she’s getting enough oxygen. The doctor ordered chest x-rays to determine the extent of the damage…”
Maggie’s blond hair streaming around her in the tub. Blue lips and fingers. Her eyes open and unseeing. Not enough oxygen. Stolen from me. Hole in my heart. And now Claire in danger of suffocating, too.
“What about Michelle?” The voice doesn’t sound like my own. Too dead. Too nothing. Too empty. The voice of a ghost echoing through familiar patterns.
Bailey slows to a stop. “She has second degree burns on her hands.” She pauses, biting her lip. “She’s bleeding.”
“What do you mean?”
Bailey meets my eyes. “Did you know she was pregnant?”
The world crashes down around me.
Something’s wrong.
Run.
A Maggie-sized hole.
I grip Bailey’s shoulders, suddenly too weak to stand. “Is she…”
I can’t finish the question.
“Take me to her,” I say instead.
Bailey nods. Takes my hand and leads me through the hospital.
Did you know she was pregnant?
Was pregnant?
Was?
I am a raw nerve. Ready to strike. Ready to fight. Ready to lash out with fists and teeth and words and rage until my world rights itself again. My hands shake. My feet move forward because I tell them to. I need darkness and solitude. I need blankets pulled up over my face. I need to sleep until I don’t wake up again. The voice of old demons whispering poison in my ear.
No. Fuck that. I need to see Michelle.
“Is the baby okay?” I ask the question but don’t want the answer.
Bailey stops in the middle of the hallway and waits as a doctor strolls past. “All we can do is wait. Doctor Weaver ordered tests to see if the pregnancy is still progressing. We’ll know more soon, but for now it’s important that she stays calm and we keep her resting.”
Ice slices through my veins. Anxiety paralyzes me. I want to go to her, to climb into that damn bed and hold her until she knows she’s safe, no matter what. I want to tell her I love her and that everything is going to be okay, but how can I walk in there, knowing that I might be losing another child? My baby is bleeding out of her because I wasn’t there when she needed me just like Maggie drowned in the tub because I wasn’t there, either.
“David?” Bailey looks up at me, her brow crinkled in worry. “Michelle needs you right now.”
I take a breath. Close my eyes. Draw oxygen deep into my lungs. Let it out slowly. I will not run away. Not this time. My insides might be bleeding, cut to shreds by the ragged pieces of my heart, but I will stand next to Michelle and carry her through whatever happens next.
I will not disintegrate. Not when she needs me. Not when there’s still hope. Not if it takes all that I have to give.
I give Bailey a nod and push through the door. Michelle’s face is pale and drawn. Circles stand out under her closed eyes, so deep her cheekbones look like razors, her eyes sunken in pits. Thick bandages wrap her hands like oversized mittens. Her lips are blue. Her hair hangs limp beside her, thick with sweat and heavy with ash. A tube snakes its way down her throat. An IV pumps fluid through her veins.
“Michelle?”
Her eyes blink open and she stares numbly through me.
Bailey appears beside me. “She won’t be able to speak.” She moves to Michelle. “You doing okay? Better now that David’s here?”
Michelle’s eyebrows draw together. She nods and then frowns, shaking her head. She looks so weak, so broken, so scared, it lights a fire in my belly. Infuses steel in my spine. I will not run from her. I cannot run from her. She needs me and I’m here and that truth is bigger than the both of us.
Her gaze focuses and tears well in her eyes. Her hands go to her stomach and questions dance across her face.
I put a hand on her arm. “Our baby is currently fine.”
Her face crumbles, her strength devoured by smoke and exhaustion.
I put a finger to her lips. “In this moment, right here, right now, my baby, our baby is still inside your belly and that’s all we know.”
A sob chokes her and she closes her eyes.
“Look, darlin’. The future is never certain. All that matters is right now. And right now?” I raise my eyebrows and cup her cheek. “You’re still carrying our baby.”
She opens her eyes. Her focus grows stronger, her gaze locked on mine.
“That’s right.” Bailey touches her shoulder. “And if that baby is half as strong as you are, then there’s no doubt everything is going to be okay.”
Michelle tries to make a sound and chokes as the tube gags her. Panic surges across her face and I know what she wants to ask. The fear in her expression is too familiar. I felt the same way the day I found Maggie.
“Bailey told me that Claire’s still unconscious. They put a tube down her throat just like you and are doing x-rays. We’ll know more soon, but right now you have to listen to me. Right now, she’s still got that little heart thumping and oxygen coming into her lungs. Until we know anything different, that’s the only truth that matters. Claire is alive.”
Michelle sinks
into the pillows, small and exhausted. I sit with her until she falls into a fitful sleep. The treacherous voice of anxiety won’t stop its insidious whispering, but as long as Michelle needs me, I’m not fucking listening.
MICHELLE
I dream. Black things with smoke filtering from their eyes. Stomping monsters that chase me down, shove me in small places and yell until I cry. Everywhere I turn there’s not enough. No water to put out the fire. No light to chase the darkness. No food to feed my children and they wither away, calling my name, crying out for me to help them and I can’t.
When I wake, I can’t think through the pain. My hands scream obscenities, my heart shouts accusations. Because I’m pregnant, they’re withholding any pain medication strong enough to dull the throbbing agony that is now my life. The dreams are bad, but waking is worse. And so I sleep.
“Mish?” My mom’s voice. A gentle touch on my forehead, a whisper of contact that means love, love, love. I shy away from it. Close my eyes and pretend to sleep until I cross the line back into unconsciousness.
Conversations happen around me. I catch enough to know Claire is okay. I hear her voice and open my eyes.
“Hey, Bear.” My words are sandpaper but thank God they took the tube out of my throat.
“Momma.” She looks small in her wheelchair, pale and tired. “Are you okay?”
I shrug. I don’t have an answer. “Are you?”
“I cough a lot, but I feel better and it doesn’t hurt so bad.”
“Mish?” Lexi’s voice.
I turn away. Rest a hand on my belly and close my eyes. “Is David here?” I ask.
Bailey comes around the bed and crouches in front of me. Her eyes meet mine. “We haven’t seen him today.”
