Bring Me Back

by Micalea Smeltzer

  We don’t bother saying goodbye since we’re both heading to Group. I end up behind her and follow her the whole way to the school.

  We head inside together, chatting about the surprisingly hot weather. There are already a few people there, either sitting or grabbing a snack.

  Of their own accord, my eyes seek out Ryder.

  When I find him, he looks up from the piece of paper he’s reading and smiles widely.

  I feel it. The sparks and tingles in my body. Something I thought only one person would ever give me. This feeling both scares and excites me.

  We both look away and then, like we can’t help it, our eyes connect again. It’s like we’re dancing but only with our eyes and the electricity crackling through the air.

  I swallow thickly and duck my head, hurrying quickly to my seat.

  My mind is a jumble of incoherent thoughts. I’ve never been more confused in all of my life.

  My heart still yearns for Ben, but there’s this small piece that yearns for Ryder too. And that small piece … it’s growing, and I’m unable to stop it.

  I stand in front of the mirror in my bathroom. There’s color in my skin now, I’ve gained a little weight, and my hair has been trimmed. My eyes, though, my eyes still look sad and tired. Haunted. I guess it’s baby steps.

  I turn away and flick off the light.

  Sunlight streams into my bedroom through the open blinds.

  I’m eighteen weeks pregnant today.

  Twenty weeks since Ben took his last breath.

  My chest feels heavy with the thought. I don’t want to dwell on his death on today of all days. The day when I find out the sex of our baby. At my last appointment, Dr. Hershel couldn’t get a clear shot. He thought he knew but I wouldn’t let him tell me. I wanted to wait until he could be one-hundred percent sure.

  “Blaire, are you ready?” my mom yells up the steps.

  I asked her last night if she’d take me to the appointment and somewhere else afterward. I didn’t want to be alone either place.

  “Yeah, I’m ready,” I call back, looking around my bedroom.

  Despite the fact that it’s still decorated exactly the same, there’s an emptiness in the space. In the whole house, really. I miss hearing Ben laugh from the family room at something on TV. Or the smell of bacon in the morning when he’d make breakfast. I miss so many little things—things that never seemed that important before.

  I find my mom waiting by the front door downstairs. She might be even more excited than I am.

  She ushers me into the car and we’re quiet on the drive to the doctor’s office. I think she knows that even as happy as I am about today there’s a part of me that’s incredibly sad too. Ben should be here, holding my hand, and waiting with bated breath for the news of whether or not we’re having a baby boy or girl. At least my mom can be here with me but it’s not the same. It never will be.

  She parks and we head inside the building. I sign in and sit down to wait.

  “Are you nervous?” my mom asks me when she picks up a magazine with a cover of a smiling mom and baby.

  “No,” I answer honestly. “I’ll be happy either way.”

  She smiles and pats my knee. “I know that.” She laughs lightly. “I meant are you nervous about being here without Ben?”

  I don’t wince at his name like I would have even a month ago. “Not nervous, but sad.” I twist my lips in thought. “He should be here for this, but he can’t be and that sucks. It really freaking sucks.” My hand falls to my growing bump. It suddenly popped out more in the last week. I was slow in showing, probably due to the weight I lost after Ben died.

  She takes my hand and holds it in hers. “You’re doing so much better, though, Blaire. Focus on that.”

  I nod. “I am.”

  I’m doing better. I really am. I still have my moments, where I feel sad or the grief becomes too much, but I don’t feel like that all the time the way I did initially. Now those moments come briefly throughout the day and then I’m better until they come along again.

  When it becomes apparent I’m not going to be called back any time soon, I pick up a magazine and flick through the pages.

  “Man, babies need a lot of things,” I comment, glancing horrified at the pages. “Expensive things,” I add.

  My mom laughs and takes the magazine from my hand and puts it back on the table. “They do,” she agrees, “but don’t stress about that. Your dad and I will help you.”

  I shake my head back and forth rapidly. “No,” I say sternly, “you will not.”

  “We were talking about moving back up here,” she admits.

  “Mom.” My eyes widen in surprise. “You guys love it in Florida. Please don’t move back here because of me.”

  “We’re only talking about it.” She shrugs. “It might not happen.”

  “Mom,” I say sternly and she looks over at me, “you guys wouldn’t be happy back here. Not permanently, anyway.”

  “We’d be happier than you think.”

  “I don’t need you to take care of me forever. I’ve been so incredibly thankful that you guys dropped everything to stay with me.” Tears pool in my eyes. “I know it might not seem that way with how bitchy I can be, but it really has meant a lot. And I’ll miss you so much when you’re gone, but I’ll be fine. I can do this.” I look down at my bump and smile. “I know I can.”

  She wraps her arms around me and hugs me tight. “I know you can too, B.”

  When she pulls away, there are tears in her eyes too. Before I can say anything else, a nurse calls my name. “Blaire Kessler?” I stand and my mom does too. We follow the nurse down the hall into the room. She goes over her usual series of questions and I answer them as best as I can. “The doctor will be in with you shortly,” she says cheerily before closing the door.

  I lie back and the paper sheet crinkles underneath me.

  Today I find out if I’m having a son or a daughter. The little being inside me stirs, as if it too knows that big news is coming.

  When the doctor comes into the room, I breathe out a sigh of relief. One minute closer to knowing.

  He takes a seat and talks over things and then it’s time.

  He squirts the jelly-like substance on my stomach and swirls the wand around.

  “Oh my,” my mom breathes out when the baby appears on the screen and the heartbeat rings through the room. Tears well in her eyes and she looks at me in awe.

  “That’s a good profile shot,” the doctor says, pointing at the screen. “Cute nose.”

  I laugh around my tears—tears I didn’t know I was crying. “That’s Ben’s nose.”

  “Do you still want me to write down the gender and put it in an envelope?” He asks. “Or do you want to know right now?”

  “No, no, write it down,” I plead.

  He nods. “Okay. I’ll give you another minute with your little one.” He chuckles as I watch the wiggling baby on the screen.

  “You’re one-hundred percent sure what it is?” I ask him.

  He laughs again. “Yes, Blaire. No doubts this time—and so you know, I was right then too. All right,” he says, removing the wand and wiping up the goop, “I’ll see you next time.” He slides in his chair over to the counter set up as a desk. He grabs a sticky note and pen and scribbles something across it before stuffing the paper in the envelope. He also slips the new sonograms in there. “Here you go.” He hands me the envelope. “Bye.” He stands and heads for the door.

  “Bye, and thanks, Dr. Hershel.”

  He smiles over his shoulder before the door closes.

  “Ready?” my mom asks me.

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  My mom parks the car and looks over at me. I can see the worry in her eyes, but I don’t comment on it. I know she probably thinks I’m crazy for doing this. Torturing myself, really, but I have to.

  “I’ll be back soon,” I tell her.

  “I’ll come look for you if you’re not,” she warns.
<
br />   I pick up the envelope and get out of the car.

  It’s a sweltering hot day in June, and while the grass is brown and brittle everywhere else, here it’s bright green and lush—clearly well taken care of.

  The grass is cushiony beneath my feet, propelling me forward.

  I don’t look around at my surroundings. Instead, I hold my head high and stride forward with a purpose. When I reach the grave, I sink down to my knees.

  “Ben,” I breathe, touching my fingers to the cool stone. His name is engraved into the surface along with his birthday and the day of his death. Beneath that it says: Loving son and devoted husband. He never got the chance to be my husband, but Loraine had said that it wasn’t fair for that to be left out. I hadn’t cared at the time, too overcome with my grief, but now I was glad it was there. That our love wasn’t cast aside like it was unimportant.

  I haven’t visited his grave until now. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. To come here felt like I had to finally face his death head-on. I guess that’s what I’m doing.

  “I miss you,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. “I miss the sound of your voice, and your laugh, and the way your eyes lit up when you saw me. I miss everything about you.” I inhale a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited. I … I couldn’t,” I admit. “But I’m here now and I have something special to share with you.” I reach for the envelope. “You probably know by now that we’re having a baby. I wanted us to find out its gender together, so I hope you’re ready.” I speak into the air and I feel a gust of wind brush my cheek. I smile and I know that it’s Ben’s way of saying he’s here and he’s ready. The envelope is still clasped in my hand so I lift it up and open the flap. I close my eyes and pull out the piece of paper. I want to prolong this moment for as long as possible. Finally, I can’t stand it any longer and open my eyes. Only, of course the side of the paper I’m looking at is blank. I turn it over and gasp, my hand flying to my lips. Tears cascade down my cheeks. “Ben,” I can barely say his name, “we’re having a little girl. We’re going to have a daughter.”

  My tears fall onto the stone of his grave, disappearing into the porous material. My throat is thick with emotion. I’m going to have a daughter. A precious little girl.

  “I wish you were here,” I breathe. “I miss you so much.”

  I close my eyes and I feel the wind again. It seems to whisper, I miss you too.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself.

  “You’re smiling,” Ryder says, sitting down beside me on the gym floor the following Friday.

  “I am,” I agree, finishing the paper crane I’m making.

  “You’re glowing too,” he notes.

  “I hear pregnancy does that to you,” I joke.

  He grins. “It’s more than that. Are you going to make me beg?”

  I laugh and add the finished crane to my growing pile. “I found out I’m having a girl and I’m really, really happy. For the first time through this whole pregnancy I can say I’m happy. Not that I wasn’t happy to be pregnant,” I add quickly, “but I was so sad over Ben’s death that I just … couldn’t grasp that it was actually happening I guess.” I shrug and pick up another piece of paper I’ve already written on. “My sadness overshadowed my joy,” I elaborate.

  Ryder nods. “I can see how that would happen. It was hard when Angela passed. There’s a lot I can’t remember about Cole’s first few months. It’s like you’re there, but not.”

  “Exactly,” I agree.

  “So, I was thinking,” he begins, “why don’t we go out together this weekend to set our paper cranes around?” I look at him like he’s grown another head. “Not like a date or anything,” he explains quickly.

  “Why would I think it was a date?” I ask, fighting a smile.

  He looks away and says, “No reason.”

  “I think that would be fun.” I put the poor guy out of his misery. I normally do it by myself, but it would be nice to have someone to go with me.

  His face splits into a grin, and I’d be lying if I didn’t say that butterflies took flight in my stomach. “Good. It’ll be fun. My parents are watching Cole this weekend, and I normally just chill at home by myself, but I didn’t want to do that this time.” His eyes roam over my face, like he’s drinking in every feature of mine and filing it away so he can remember it when I’m no longer in front of him.

  “Just text me,” I tell him, setting aside the newly finished paper crane. “I can meet you whenever.” It wasn’t like I had any plans.

  He nods. “I will.” He clears his throat and stands. “I’ll see you sometime tomorrow then?” he asks one last time, like he’s afraid I’ve changed my mind in the last two seconds.

  “Yeah,” I say, fighting a smile at his awkwardness. I find it endearing, honestly, how nervous he gets.

  He walks off to speak to someone else and beside me Ivy makes a noise. “He’s got it bad for you.” She laughs under her breath, scribbling words across the page in her lap.

  “No, he doesn’t,” is my automatic rebuttal.

  She eyes me. We both know I’m lying through my teeth. I look in the direction that Ryder went.

  He’s smart.

  Good-looking.

  Kind.

  And he sets my heart aflame.

  But I’m scared. Terrified of loving someone else the way I loved Ben and losing them.

  My breath catches. Is that the real reason I’m holding myself back? Not because it’s too soon, but because I’m scared I might love him and lose him too?

  I lower my head and go back to work on the paper cranes. I try to dismiss my thoughts from my mind, but they hang around like a pesky fly, and I don’t think they’re going to go away easily. If at all.

  Ryder asks me to meet him at the coffee shop—the one we ran into each other at several months ago—at eleven.

  I had planned to dress simply and not bother doing much to my hair or messing with makeup. After all, it’s not a date. But once I receive his text, I end up shutting myself in the bathroom and doing everything I vowed not to do. I curl my hair and apply more than the bare minimum of makeup. Since it’s blazing hot out I dress in a cute floral dress that rests over my bump. I slip on a pair of flats and gather my purse and the envelope full of paper cranes.

  My mom eyes me with a knowing look when I come downstairs.

  “Where are you off to?” she asks, glancing up from the book she’s reading. Her purple reading glasses slide down the edge of her nose.

  “Going with a friend from Group to set our paper cranes around,” I say, hedging toward the door. It’s so close, but so far away.

  “Ivy,” she asks and then with a knowing smile, she adds, “or Ryder?”

  I can’t lie to my mom—I mean, it’s my mom. “Ryder,” I mumble. Her face breaks out into an ear-splitting grin. “It’s not a date.” I point a finger at her in warning. Her smile never falters, though.

  “Mhm,” she says.

  “It’s n-o-o-o-t,” I sing-song.

  Before she can make a comeback, I bolt for the door and I’m out of there. I’m pretty sure I can hear her laughing through the door.

  I get to the coffee shop a few minutes late and Ryder’s already there waiting. He sits outside on a bench, one leg crossed over the other with two clear cups filled with something iced and delicious looking. He dressed casually in a pair of khaki shorts, a white t-shirt that stretches across his muscular chest and leaves little to the imagination, and a pair of black tennis shoes. A pair of sunglasses hides his eyes but I know he’s spotted my car.

  I get out and head toward him.

  “Hi,” I say shyly. I don’t know why I feel so nervous all of a sudden. I mean it’s Ryder. He’s my friend, despite the fact that we both might kinda-sorta have feelings for each other.

  “Hey,” he holds out a drink for me, “I got this for you. You like iced tea, right?”

  I smile and take it from him, immediately taking a sip. “I love it,” I say, as if that w
asn’t obvious by the way I slurped it down. “Thank you.”

  He smiles up at me and even though I can’t see them I know his eyes are crinkling at the corners. “You’re welcome.” He stands and nods to his right. “Shall we?” There’s a strip mall that way, with lots of parking, and also several restaurants. It’s an excellent place to lay around our paper cranes.

  “Where are yours?” I ask, holding up my envelope as we walk along the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop.

  Ryder grins and pulls out the white envelope stuffed in his back pocket. “Got it right here. You didn’t think I’d forget them did you?” He jokes and pulls out one of the folded birds.

  I duck my head so he can’t see my smile. Being with Ryder, it’s easy. As easy as breathing—normal and completely natural. It’s something I could get used to and I think that’s another reason why it scares me so much.

  Ryder opens his envelope and lays one of the origami birds on a car we pass by. I smile at the sight of it and my heart … It feels happy.

  “So,” I ask him, squinting from the brightness of the sun even though I’m wearing sunglasses, “your parents watch Cole some weekends?”

  “Yeah—” he looks down at the ground when we step off the sidewalk onto the parking lot “—they do it maybe once every other month or so. It gives me a break and they love spending time with him. He loves it too. They spoil him rotten and give him too many cookies.”

  I laugh at that and pull one of my own paper cranes from the envelope and leave it on the bench we pass. “It’s nice that you have them.”

  “It’s nice that you have your parents too,” he comments. He hasn’t asked me anything about them since that day at the mall. It kind of surprised me, but then again it didn’t. Ryder has made it obvious he wants to know me, but he’s not pushy about it.

  “They’re great,” I agree, my throat closing with emotion. “They … uh … they live in Florida now, but they dropped everything to come back here and be with me after Ben died. I didn’t always make it easy on them to stay, especially my poor mom, but they persevered and I’m so incredibly thankful that they’re here. I’ll be sad when they leave.”