by Liv Bennett
What do couples do when they lose their children? Seeing each other every day is a constant reminder of the pain. Does it ever get easier? Do they ever manage to forget the pain and move on?
I stop at a liquor store to buy two bottles of Jack Daniels and drive without a destination. After hours of driving, I find myself at the cemetery where Jack is buried. If it’s indeed Jack’s curse on me, I have to ask, no beg, for forgiveness. If there’s a truth about what all the religions claim, he must continue existing in some form, though I don’t know how his soul or whatever type his existence is right now can help with my daughter’s malformation.
My daughter.
It sounds harsh to even think about the words. My precious, little daughter. Too vulnerable to fight against whatever it was that caused the malformation.
No one, not even the wicked-minded Valerie would wish a curse like this on an innocent child, let alone a saint, like Jack. I clutch at the Jack Daniels as my feet carry me toward his grave.
My friend, my brother.
He was a lucky one to die so young and spare himself the harsh realities of life. I open the bottle and gulp down large swigs, despite the burn in my throat from throwing up.
Fuck medicine, fuck technology. The best invention mankind has had is alcohol. It might not cure illnesses, but it sure helps ease the pain.
12 – TAYLOR: Help!
Adam hasn’t come home for the night. Which is just what I need. I can’t have him around and remind him what I caused. Another baby can’t make it because of my body’s improper functioning.
I cry. I throw things. I scream the entire night. When I finally drop half-dead to the bed, the apartment looks like a raid took place in it. I have to intentionally keep away from the knife set in the kitchen, or broken glass, to eliminate the possibility of committing suicide, although my situation is one of the few ones that’d qualify for a valid reason to go for it.
I have absolutely no fucking idea about the labor induction, with or without Adam by my side. I need someone with me, someone who’s close to me but not directly affected by it. And definitely does not blame me for it. I blame myself to death already. There’s only one person in the entire world that fits the bill, and I’m grateful for having her. Lindsay, my sister.
I dial her, though it’s three in the morning.
“Hello,” she says sleepily to the phone.
“Can you fly to L.A. today?” I wish New York to L.A. took less than six hours because I need her now.
“What’s going on?”
“I can’t say it on the phone. You have to come here. Please, make it today. Hire a private jet if you must, but please don’t leave me alone today.”
“Taylor, tell me what’s going on? Did something happen to you? To Adam?”
“I’m waiting for you,” I say and disconnect, dropping the phone to the floor. I don’t remember a single thing until I open my eyes and see Lindsay staring at me.
13 – LINDSAY: Back in L.A.
Growing up, I always felt jealous of Taylor. She got to have our mother to herself for five long years. She’s the one who took completely after her, beautiful like a swan, while I’m a strange mixture between my mother and father. My aunt, who took care of Taylor and me after our mother had died, always favored Taylor and loved her as if her own, while I was treated as the black sheep. My aunt must have been thinking I was the reason for my mother’s death, because she died while giving birth to me. She wouldn’t be completely wrong about that assumption.
Then, as if touched by the lucky charm itself, Taylor married Jack, a gorgeous, young man who wasn’t only rich, but smart and desperately in love with Taylor, too. And when Jack died, she inherited Jack’s entire fortune and married yet another gorgeous man with qualities enough to drop your panties, while the majority of the female species have to sort through crappy and selfish males.
How lucky Taylor was, I always thought to myself.
Until now, that is. Because seeing her torn into pieces for her baby makes me feel grateful for my pitiful life.
I fix a cup of green tea and bring it to the bedroom, setting it beside her on the table.
“She had a strong heartbeat, you know?” Taylor says, pursing her lips together afterwards to stop the threatening sobs. “I had big plans for her. I was going to name her after our mom and Adam’s mom. Nancy Grace Doheny Garnett. I’d enroll her in lots of classes, the ones I wish you and I could have taken when we were small. Dancing, painting, sports. I’d take her to museums, shows, and zoos. I’d spoil her rotten with toys and dresses. She’d... she’d be loved.”
I wrap my arm around her and pull her in for a hug. Her head drops on my shoulder, and I feel her tears soak my shirt. I’m not the right person to comfort someone in pain, but I suspect anyone could do a good job in these circumstances. What am I even supposed to say? You’re young? You’ll have other kids? How can I guarantee that?
“Why don’t you drink some tea?” I reach for the cup and bring it to her lips. She sips some, brushing her lips, and then grabs the cup.
I hear the front door open and close and get up to see who it is, though I know it’s Adam. Adam stares at me from the front door, then opens his arms for me to embrace him. Gone is the strong, confident man I thought no one could compete with in the looks department. He’s broken and crawling in pain, like an animal caught in a trap.
He smells of alcohol and the wind, but I hug him tightly anyway. His head settles on my shoulder, despite the huge height difference, and I feel his body shake. It’s a cruel thought, but you see the real faces of people when they’re at their worst. And I can’t imagine anything worse than this for Taylor and Adam. My heart breaks for them, the two souls who wish nothing but a simple family life.
“How is she?” he whispers when he pulls back, wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve.
“Just like you. Broken.”
“I couldn’t come home last night.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Is she sleeping?” He slides out of his jacket, dropping it to the floor.
I shake my head no and follow him to the bedroom. He hesitates for a second before entering, and then walks to the bed, his eyes on the floor.
Taylor leaves the tea cup and saucer on the nightstand and moves aside to make space for Adam on the bed. “Where were you?” She avoids eye contact, too.
Adam shrugs and takes his place beside Taylor, his hands firmly on his thighs. “At the cemetery, to visit Jack.”
“To ask for his permission to divorce me?”
Adam turns to Taylor sharply, and I fear since his face is of agony and anger. “Jesus, Taylor. Why would you say that?”
“I... I’m no good for you. I can’t give you the family you want. You shouldn’t have married me in the first place.”
“I didn’t marry you for your childbearing abilities. I love you, Taylor. When are you going to finally acknowledge that?”
I should probably leave them alone, but Taylor’s pain keeps me paralyzed. I had no idea she had doubts about herself, since she’s always been very confident about everything in her life.
“So, why did you go to Jack, then?” Taylor asks.
“For some silly reason.”
“I want to know.”
“Why?”
Taylor shrugs and gives a sideway glance at Adam.
“I wanted to apologize for stealing you from him. If this is some kind of a curse because of him, I wanted to make it right.”
“You didn’t steal me from anyone. Besides, if there’s someone to blame for this, it’s me. I should have followed Dr. Fowler’s recommendation and let my body rest for a few months after the miscarriage, before trying for another baby. My body wasn’t ready for it; that’s why our baby had no...” Taylor buries her face into her hands, as the sobs rack her body.
Adam wraps his long arms around her, resting his lips on her head. “That’s not the reason. I don’t know what it is, but that’s not it.”
&n
bsp; “I know it is.”
“For god’s sake, stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control. That’s life, Taylor. If we could have a tiny bit of say in things in our lives, my mother would still be alive. And so would your mother.”
All my self-composure dissolves at the mentioning of my mother, and I throw myself onto the bed and hug them both, absorbing their tears and adding my own.
“We have to stick together,” Adam murmurs. “That’s the only way we can get out of this disaster alive.”
“How are we going to do that?” Taylor pulls away, wiping her cheeks. “I mean, how are we supposed to induce the labor? Did you talk to Dr. Fowler about the procedure yesterday?”
Adam shakes his head. “I hid in the bathroom for a while. When I was out, she was seeing another patient. I wasn’t in the right state of mind to talk to her anyway.”
“I don’t know if I can let her go,” Taylor says, moving her hands down over her belly.
Adam stares down at where Taylor’s hands are petting, looking afraid to touch it himself. “We’ll think about it.”
We all turn our heads when a phone rings. Taylor’s. She sighs, shaking her head, and grabs it from the nightstand. “Yes... Yes, that’s right. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to make it today. Please get in contact with Bree Anker at the office for the transaction... Yes, I authorize it... Right. Okay, I’ll fax it right away... Thanks.” She tosses the phone on the pillow, turning to Adam. “I totally forgot the wiring of the money was today.”
“Did you ask them to get Bree to do it?” Adam asks.
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t it a bit strange since she’s the one who got us into this mess?”
“This isn’t the first time the bank people are wiring money from my personal account to the company’s. They have all the account details, so anyone from the company should be able to oversee it. And Bree is the only one beside family whom I can trust my money with.”
Oh, they’re talking about that Bree, who saved Taylor’s life last year. I never liked her, mostly because of the closeness Taylor felt for that girl. Like besties or even sisters. But, I guess I deserve it, since I chose to live on the other side of the country, thousands of miles away from Taylor.
“Hey, I’m here to help you,” I say. “I can deal with work-related stuff, too, if you need a hand there?”
Adam starts nodding, but Taylor waves her hand, signaling no. “Oh, no. You’ll not know what to do.”
Ouch! “As you wish.”
“Shall I fix you a late lunch?” My eyes wander to each of them to get a reaction from them, but I guess food is the last thing on their mind. “I’m a little hungry. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.” I kiss Taylor first, then Adam, and head to the kitchen, listening to their soft voices as they talk.
Taylor doesn’t know yet, but I’m unemployed for a while, long enough to consider moving back to L.A.
I’d escaped to New York to start a new life and make new friends. Things didn’t turn out to be as I’d initially hoped in New York. My boyfriend dumped me with my best friend. My boss at work sexually harassed me, which in return earned him a five-year jail time after I’d sued him. The settlement I received from the company for the harassment was good enough to keep me afloat while hunting my next job. But it turns out, the news about the court suit spread around the city, and no one wanted to hire me. I became un-hirable for speaking out for my rights against that jerk who couldn’t control his fucking, finger-sized penis.
I don’t know how long Taylor is going to need me, most likely for a few months, until she can start functioning without dissolving into tears. I’m planning to stay for as long as she wants me.
What a big mess she is going through. I can’t imagine myself in her shoes. I’m glad she’s not letting go of my niece. At least for some time. There’d be another of us. A continuation of our parents. We wouldn’t be just the two of us anymore. Maybe she’d look like my mother. A reflection of her angel face on earth. Just like Taylor is.
Having children seems like the ultimate joy in our mundane lives, but anything that goes wrong, even a slight problem, has the effect of a blow from a logging truck. That’s why I have to be by Taylor’s side. Both for my sister duties and as a thank-you for all the support and love she showed me while growing up. I had my aunt and my uncle as parents, but I wouldn’t be the same person as I am today if Taylor wasn’t in my life.
A scream makes me jolt, and I drop the vegetables in my hands and rush to the bedroom to find Taylor wincing in pain.
“What’s going on?” I leap to her side, checking her body for a sign of blood.
Another loud scream and Adam slips his arms beneath Taylor’s squirming body and lifts her up. “We’re going to the hospital,” Adam says. “Get Taylor’s bag and a jacket for her.”
Before I know it, he ushers Taylor out, and I’m left with gathering Taylor’s belongings. My hands shake with panic, as I grab Taylor’s handbag, phone, and jacket.
Taylor’s piercing cries die down to silent sobs in the car, and I watch her intently as she rubs her belly. “I shouldn’t have cried the entire night; I should have rested so she wouldn’t have unnecessary stress.”
“It’d take a stone-hearted monster not to cry at that news. Don’t beat yourself up with self-blame,” Adam says, his knuckles brushing Taylor’s cheeks.
I have to look away when I see her tears as she says, “I don’t want her to die.”
She has to die, but neither Adam nor I have the guts to mouth that truth. An angel is about to depart the earth, and all we can do about it is to suffer in silence.
Rather than going to the emergency, Adam drives us to the clinic of Taylor’s doctor. I met her once in the past while accompanying Taylor. A composed, intelligent doctor in her early fifties. But today, there’s nothing composed about the way she acts. She’s as emotional as a family member would be and yells at her staff, while holding Taylor’s hand, as Adam carries her into the exam room.
“I’ve got a lot of pain.” I hear Taylor saying from inside the room, but I don’t dare to enter for the fear of seeing her in blood. I have this dream, more a nightmare actually, where I see my mother in blood from the waist down while giving birth to me. It takes me several days to recover from that image. And I can’t, for the love of god, have another horrible image of someone I love covered in blood. Besides, the room is full with all the nurses and the doctor bustling around Taylor, anyway.
After a minutes-long examination and arguing, Dr. Fowler announces that Taylor is not having contractions as an indication of labor and everything is all fine with the baby—well, as fine as it can be with her malformation. “Now that you’re here, would you consider inducing labor?” Dr. Fowler asks, and I catch a glimpse of Taylor’s troubled face. She turns her eyes away and rests them on Adam’s face.
He’s standing by her side, holding her hand between both of his own hands. “If you don’t mind, Doctor, we’d like to postpone that for a bit longer. Taylor and I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“All right.” Dr. Fowler nods and asks the nurse to free Taylor from needles and cables. “You can do it here at the clinic, at the hospital, or even at your home. Anywhere you feel comfortable with. It won’t be nearly as painful as a full-term birth due to the small size of the fetus. But it’ll be a labor, nonetheless, and too much bleeding or any other unexpected complication might end up as dangerous. Not to forget the high hygienic standards that should be met to prevent any sort of infection.”
Adam nods, while Taylor’s head is low, her chin touching her chest.
“If you don’t have any questions, I’ll leave you two alone,” Dr. Fowler says before leaving the room with her assistants.
I walk toward Taylor and hug her without caring about the tears running rampant from my eyes. “Do you still have pain?”
“No,” Taylor whispers to my ear, brushing my hair softly with her hand. “I don’t know why I can’t let her go. D
o you think she feels pain in there?”
“Dr. Fowler said the part of her brain that detects pain hasn’t formed,” Adam replies.
Will that part ever form? Will her brain ever develop, even a tiny bit? It shouldn’t matter, the logical part of me says. But to my heart, it matters. Knowing that tiny piece of Taylor can feel something, even anything, feels more significant than money or career at this point. Funny how I got attached to the baby even in the few hours of knowing about her existence. How terrible must Taylor and Adam be feeling, having been excited about her for weeks?
God, if you have any mercy at all, you should give them power to come out of this ordeal and help them heal.
A week passes, without any sign of contraction or labor, and from Taylor’s extra care on her eating, I gather she won’t be going through the artificial induction. She and Adam spend the evenings on their bed, wrapped in each other’s arms, murmuring and caressing Taylor’s belly.
Taylor hasn’t gone to work, except for one business lunch with the owner of a project they’re working on. Mr. Hawkins, apparently an influential media tycoon, is now trying his luck in residential-property business by converting a golf course into luxury residential homes in North L.A. I remember applying to his headquarters in New York for a job only to get a dry rejection email.
Taylor acts surprisingly well to hide the hurricane that must be going inside her mind, and Adam does his best to minimize Michael Hawkins’s interaction with Taylor, while we chat at the bar, waiting for our table. Okay, I, too, do a thing or two to avert his attention from Taylor. It’s actually to get his attention to me, because Michael Hawkins is a smoking-hot alpha male, despite his mature age and from what I heard from Bree’s gossip, single, too.
Oh, yes, I’m clearly aware of the fact that Bree has her eyes set on Michael. Like, I didn’t see it coming. I bet she wants him for his money only. Bitch.
Lindsay and Michael. Even our names match perfectly as opposed to Bree and Michael. A definite scratch to the ears. I guess it would be a clever idea to leave him to Bree’s able hands, though. He’s not just a few decades older than I am; he seems to have the exact attitude to play with innocent girls like a rocket ball. And the last thing I want at this point of my life is a one-night stand with a playboy.
