The Life We Almost Had

by Amelia Henley

  ‘Well, if that was his best move…’ I wince. Wait for the contraction to pass before I pick another ice chip from the polystyrene cup on my bedside table. Place it on my tongue.

  ‘Oh, I warned him off making any moves.’

  ‘You did, did you?’

  ‘I loved you the instant I saw you, Star. Hey, that’s a good name for a girl!’

  ‘We’re not calling any potential daughter a name you’ve called me during sex!’

  ‘Good point. Josh thinks if it’s a boy we should name him Joshua.’

  ‘God no.’

  ‘I’ve told him he should think himself lucky we’re trusting him to be godfather.’

  ‘We are?’

  ‘You haven’t changed your mind? He’s said yes.’

  ‘As long as he doesn’t get drunk at the christening.’

  ‘I’ve told him it’s not like a wedding where you get dibs on the chief bridesmaid if you’re the best man. He doesn’t get to shag Nell because she’s the godmother.’

  ‘He didn’t get to shag Nell when she was chief bridesmaid!’

  ‘No, but they had their first snog—’

  ‘Their only snog. Fuck.’ Another contraction hits. The pain is getting worse.

  ‘Breathe through it.’ Adam takes slow, comical breaths but at a loss for anything else to try, I match my breathing pattern with his. The pain begins to ease.

  The door swings open and Helen bustles back into the room. ‘Let’s have a little look at you.’ She snaps on gloves and I let my knees flop apart; I lost my dignity hours ago.

  ‘You’re almost ready.’ She pats my thigh. ‘I’ll be back in another ten minutes or so.’

  ‘Shit. Ten minutes.’ The harried expression on Adam’s face makes me forget my own discomfort.

  ‘You’ll be an amazing dad, Adam.’

  ‘I don’t know…’

  ‘I do,’ I say firmly. ‘You are brave and selfless and—’

  ‘I can be a selfish git—’

  ‘Shut up.’ I sit up and reach forward, holding his face between my palms. ‘When it comes down to it, you always put others before you, even…’ My voice cracks. ‘Even if sometimes I wish you didn’t, you’re my absolute hero. I’m so proud of you.’

  ‘Anna.’ His finger lightly runs across my wedding ring. ‘My wife. I love you so much.’

  ‘I love you too and I’m sorry we had a rough—’

  ‘It’s not important. The here and now. It’s all we have.’

  I nod, too overcome to reply. If only he knew how true that was.

  ‘Right.’ Helen bustles back into the room. ‘Are you ready?’

  ‘Wait!’ Adam rummages around in his rucksack and pulls out a CD. ‘On the tour of the maternity unit we were told we could bring music?’

  ‘Yep. You could have had it on earlier.’

  ‘No. This is just for now.’ Adam smiles as Helen slips the disc into the player. I’m half expecting a mix of Eighties music, a selection of the terrible songs that played in the bar in Alircia the night that we met. Madonna singing ‘True Blue’ as Nell handed me a bright pink cocktail decorated with umbrellas and pineapple. Instead, Elvis croons ‘Love me Tender’, our wedding song.

  ‘Oh, I love this!’ Helen says.

  ‘You might not if Anna doesn’t push this baby out pretty damn quickly. The track’s on repeat for ninety minutes.’

  ‘That wife of yours might be tempted to throw the CD player at your head. Right.’ Helen has a quick check. ‘Ready? You will shortly become parents.’

  My body is splitting in two. I huff and puff. Panting when Helen instructs me to, Adam panting beside me. Pushing when she says it’s time, squeezing both of Adam’s hands in mine. This time he doesn’t complain. ‘Love me Tender’ is still playing so it has not yet been ninety minutes. It feels like ninety hours. Helen and I definitely have different definitions of how long the time span ‘shortly’ should cover.

  I’m tired now. Sweat slicks my skin, the sheet under me drenched. Sporadically, Adam smooths my tangled hair away from my face. Runs a damp flannel over my lips. The ice chips have long since melted.

  ‘I. Am. Never. Having. Another. Baby.’ I don’t even have the energy left to cry. ‘I can’t do this. I can’t.’ My hands cling to Adam’s T-shirt. I give him a feeble shake. ‘Make it stop now.’

  ‘Anna—’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind!’ I am shouting now. Trying to swing my legs down. Wanting to walk away from it all. ‘I can’t do it.’ My chest is heaving with dry sobs. I feel a complete and utter failure.

  It’s too hard.

  Too painful.

  Too everything.

  ‘One last push, Anna,’ Helen shouts.

  ‘You hear that, Anna? One more and it will all be over. We’ll meet—’

  ‘If you say Gregg, I’ll fucking kill you.’

  ‘Get ready,’ Helen barks. ‘Deep breath and… push!’

  I screw my eyes, grit my teeth, use the last ounce of my strength to push. Just when I feel my head will explode with the exertion, there’s a give.

  ‘Take a break, head’s out.’

  ‘Did you hear that, Anna?’ Adam’s excitement is palpable. ‘It has a head! Can you tell if it’s a boy or girl yet, Helen?’

  ‘If I could tell that from the head, you’d make medical history,’ she says. ‘Ready, Anna, you’re doing really well. Deep breath and… push.’

  I clench my hands into fists, the room swimming from lack of air until Helen tells me to take a break again.

  ‘One more push should do it,’ she says.

  I prepare myself and when she tells me to push, I do until she tells me to stop.

  ‘Good girl. It’s all over. You’ve done brilliantly. Two seconds and…’

  A sharp cry fills the air.

  A baby.

  My baby.

  ‘Well done, Anna. You were amazing.’ Adam presses his lips hard against mine. He’s crying. I’m crying. His face is shining with joy. His eyes bright. Again, he is the boy I first met. The boy from the bar. The intervening years where we bickered and took each other for granted melt away. I am twenty-four once more. Falling deeply into a love that is absolute.

  ‘I love you,’ I sob.

  ‘I love you too.’ He wipes my eyes, his eyes. ‘I was doubting it would ever happen.’ He slapped both hands on top of his head. ‘I’m a dad!’

  And I am a mother. So many emotions battle for prominence inside of me and while I am trying to unpick them, Oliver’s voice penetrates my blur of exhaustion and exhilaration and pain – he’s begun to count down.

  Ten

  No!

  Nine

  ‘Quick.’ I beckon for Helen to bring my baby over.

  Eight

  Hurry!

  Seven

  I have to see my child.

  Six

  Hold them.

  Five

  ‘Is it a boy or a girl?’

  Four

  ‘Congratulations, Anna.’ Helen takes a pause.

  Three

  ‘You have a perfectly healthy…’

  Two

  ‘…baby—’

  One

  I am back.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Oliver

  ‘No!’ Anna shouts as Sofia tries to help her off the patient table. She wrestles to snatch the goggles back, her nose streaming with blood. ‘I have to know. Send me back. Send me back right now!’

  ‘Anna.’ Oliver hurries forward. Sofia steps back, rubbing her wrist while Anna glares at Oliver with pure hatred.

  ‘I understand that—’ he begins.

  ‘You don’t understand anything. I was just about to find out. One more second. Why couldn’t you have waited? One. More. Second.’

  Oliver passes her a tissue. She presses it against her nostrils. Instantly, it turns crimson.

  ‘Anna, let’s go and talk.’

  She shakes her head and winces at the movement.

  ‘Please com
e with me.’ He offers his hand to help her down. She brushes it away and Oliver is ashamed as he watches her struggle from the table, her face pinched with pain. He had lost sight of the unquestionable truth that love is something science can’t predict. Can’t control. How could he have been so stupid as to think this would be a nice experience for Anna, visiting Adam the way you would visit a friend? Happy to see them, okay to leave them. He thinks he has, perhaps, made a dreadful mistake.

  ‘Let’s get some air,’ he tells her.

  They sit on a bench outside the Institute, facing the sea, watching the gulls soar and swoop. Listening to their call.

  ‘Seagulls mate for life,’ Oliver says. ‘They return to the same nesting space year after year. Every species wants to make a connection. To find their home.’

  ‘Adam’s my home.’ Anna raises a bottle of water to her lips and drinks.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Oliver says, taking her hand. She holds it. For a time they both stare into the distance. Oliver knows that Anna isn’t taking in the towering cliffs, the sunflower sun hanging high in the sky – all there is for her is Adam. He clears his throat. ‘There’s a percentage of the population who oppose scientific development, whether for religious or moral reasons. Those who believe that humans shouldn’t interfere with the natural order of things. It has always seemed so black and white to me. If there’s a disease we can find a cure for, why not create the necessary treatment? If a person needs blood, where’s the harm in transfusing someone else’s blood? I think… I think what’s right and wrong is subjective. I believed it was a good thing, creating the means so that those who couldn’t communicate, whether it be because of locked-in syndrome or a coma or something else entirely, would be able to share their thoughts and feelings. Express what they need. To take comfort in, to bring reassurance to their loved ones that they still… exist. It can be the cruellest thing when the body of someone you love is in front of you but their mind… their mind…’

  ‘Do you wish you hadn’t developed the technology?’ Anna still can’t look at him.

  ‘I don’t know.’ Oliver doesn’t know how he feels. What he should have done. What he should do now, moving forward.

  ‘Today…’ Anna slowly exhales. ‘Today, I had a baby.’ She turns to Oliver with tears in her eyes. ‘I might never fall pregnant again. I might never again experience how it feels to give birth. I might never feel that immense… intense love that was instant the second my child came into the world. I felt that today because of you. Thanks to you.’

  ‘No wonder you were so distressed when I brought you back.’

  ‘The midwife was just about to tell me whether it was a girl or a boy. Oliver, will I ever find out?’

  ‘I just don’t know.’ He expects her to push for a proper answer but instead she says, ‘I’m going to see Adam.’

  Oliver watches her leave. There’s a stoop to her posture. A weariness. He stays on the bench. After a while Eva joins him.

  ‘In twenty-five years as a clinical psychologist I’ve assessed, diagnosed and treated so many emotional, behavioural and mental disorders. I’ve enabled patients to deal with chronic conditions. To cope under extreme pressure. This… this is something else entirely. I don’t feel equipped for it, Oliver.’

  ‘Me neither.’ It is the sad truth.

  ‘I’m afraid Anna will break if we carry on. I’m afraid Anna will break if we stop.’

  ‘Me too.’ What are they going to do? ‘She gave birth to a baby today—’

  ‘She thinks she gave birth to a baby. Oliver, I can’t be involved with this anymore. I’m sorry.’

  They were all sorry.

  ‘Could you possibly do one last thing for me?’ he asks. ‘Could you take Anna for her post-trial evaluation and keep her with you for an hour? I’m going to try the equipment for myself.’

  ‘Has she given her permission?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is that ethical?’

  ‘Is any of this? At least… at least we would know one way or the other if any of this has been real.’

  Eva stands. ‘An hour. No more.’

  Sofia expresses her disapproval. ‘This isn’t right without Anna’s consent.’

  ‘I’m not proud of what I’m about to do.’ Oliver isn’t proud of any of it. His life’s work. His biggest dream. Every time he measures his previous expectations with the reality, it leaves a sour coating in his mouth. He hasn’t changed the world, and he knows if he doesn’t let Anna connect to Adam again he will have made her world unbearable. Science should enhance, progress, improve. He forgot it also had the power to destroy. He has to know if the equipment works. If he can utilize it in a different way. Without hurting people. Without hurting Anna.

  He slips on the goggles. The headphones. It’s warm inside of the scanner. Claustrophobic. He waits, forcing his breathing to slow as he listens to Sofia count.

  Ten

  Please work.

  Nine

  His life’s dream.

  Eight

  I’m sorry, Anna.

  Seven

  This is for Clem.

  Six

  For Adam.

  Five

  For everyone who has ever sat with an unresponsive patient.

  Four

  For anyone who has ever wondered if there is anything else.

  Three

  Clem.

  Two

  Clem.

  One

  Nothing.

  There’s nothing.

  Fifteen minutes, nothing.

  Thirty minutes, nothing.

  It doesn’t work.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Anna

  Eva was different during our session today. Uncomfortable. She frequently looked at the floor to avoid making eye contact.

  Oliver is much the same as he leans against the wall in front of Adam’s room, studying his shoes as though they’re some sort of miraculous scientific discovery.

  ‘I need to go and rest,’ I say. Something is clearly wrong but I can’t face another conversation about the trial right now.

  Oliver has other ideas. ‘I’m so sorry, Anna. I’ve decided to put an end to the trial. To go back to development stage.’

  ‘But outside… we sat on the bench… I told you about the baby. I need to know the sex of my child. I thought you understood.’

  ‘There is no baby,’ Oliver says sadly.

  ‘There is. There…’ He can’t look at me. Something has happened. ‘What makes you so sure there isn’t a baby? Before you didn’t know whether the equipment was working or not.’

  ‘I… I’ve concluded—’

  Immediately I know. ‘Oh my God.’ I step backwards. ‘You tried it. You tried it when I was with Eva.’ He doesn’t have to answer. The expression on his face tells me I am right. ‘How could you, Oliver? I trusted you. I thought that we were friends.’

  ‘We are friends. It’s because I care about—’

  ‘You don’t care about me.’ The thought I might never hear Adam talk again, hear his laugh, feel his hands on my skin is torturous. ‘You don’t care about anything except yourself and your dead wife. What would Clem think of you now, Oliver? Going behind my back. Lying to me.’ I squeezed my hands into fists. ‘I don’t care what your experience was in the scanner. It works for me. Don’t stop it.’

  ‘I have to. It’s my final decision and the right one, despite how it seems. That’s what testing is for. We try and try again until we get it right.’

  ‘And how long will that take? Until you’re convinced you’ve got it right? In time for me? Adam?’

  Oliver opens his mouth and closes it again without speaking.

  ‘I thought not.’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Anna.’

  ‘Fuck you.’ I push past him and run into my bedroom, throw myself onto my bed and cry as though my heart is breaking.

  As though my heart is breaking again.

  I’ve been holding Adam’s hand for hours; my finger
s tingle with pins and needles but I don’t let go of him for a second. I’m in despair that Oliver has given up on us. It’s only a matter of time before he sends us home. A few days ago I’d been searching for a way to fly us back to the UK but now the thought of being in a crowded NHS hospital, with overworked nurses who have the best intentions but not enough time for their patients, is horribly depressing. I know Oliver will initially send us to a private hospital but he can’t fund that forever, can he?

  Two years. Twelve years. Twenty years.

  Here, with this large private room, with Luis and the team, Adam is in the best hands. Will he even survive a flight?

  I have never felt more alone.

  Oliver cracks open the door.

  ‘Anna, do you want to talk?’ he asks, but I don’t reply. Anything I say would come out in a rush of anger or a rush of tears and neither would be helpful. When he said his decision was final, I knew that he meant it. There is nothing to say that we haven’t already said. If I’d thought things looked bleak before, now they are desolate.

  ‘Anna?’ Oliver says again, but I do not answer because he has taken all the words. He has taken all of my hope.

  ‘Night then.’ He slips away. Luis is dozing on a chair in the corner and I am alone once more with too much time and too many thoughts.

  It is quiet. At home Adam would always be streaming Spotify. Oasis would be ‘Supersonic’, the Arctic Monkeys asking ‘Do I Wanna Know’.

  Oliver has connected to Adam and seen nothing. Has all of this been only in my mind? My desire manifesting a happy marriage, a baby. Conversations flowing with kindness and respect. The trial had made me fall in love with my husband all over again but have I fallen in love with him or an ideal my mind has created? The version of a life I so desperately wanted. I close my eyes and try to recall the details of giving birth, but it doesn’t seem real.

  What if it wasn’t?

  But I can hear the cry of my child that I never got to hold. Never got to find out if it was a boy or a girl.

  Now Oliver has said we can’t try again, I will never know.

  The room, which had fallen into shadows, slips into darkness. The only glow a soft yellow lamp angled towards Adam’s bed. Luis sneezes.