From A Distance

by L. M. Carr

  Our faces are inches apart.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me.” My chin quivers, but I remain steadfast.

  “I never touched her. I never kissed her and I certainly never fucked her.”

  “I saw the video, Tyler. I saw what you two did in the trailer. Granted, it was before we were even together, but you still lied to me.”

  “Video? What video?

  “The one in Alex’s race trailer,” I sneer.

  I can see the moment of comprehension as his face falls.

  “Karrie,” he sighs sympathetically. “Baby, you were never supposed to see that. Any of it.”

  I turn hard eyes on him.

  “Well I did. And you know what I think? I think you’re no different than he was.”

  His face morphs as if he is in physical pain.

  “Do not compare me to that animal. I am nothing like him. I never was and I never will be.”

  “Save it for someone who cares.”

  “You care! You fucking care and you love me!” He grabs my face and smashes his mouth against mine, kissing me hard.

  “Stop!” I shove him away. “You lied to me!”

  “I didn’t lie to you. The girl in the video…that wasn’t Penny. It was her sister, Rachel. They’re identical twins.”

  “Twins?” I cry in disbelief.

  “Yes. I messed with her that one time and that was only because I lost a race and…”

  “And what?”

  “I was so angry.”

  “Why?” A niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me there’s more to the story.

  “Alex had just told me he was going to leave you.”

  Overwhelmed by what I’m hearing, I feel like a lost little child, helpless and vulnerable.

  “I don’t know why I did it. I just did.”

  I see regret spread across his face.

  Tyler drags the hospital chair over and sits in it. He drops his head onto my covered legs as his hands wrap around my feet.

  “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  Slowly I lift my hand, my fingers itching to run through his hair.

  He continues. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. I’m so sorry I missed the birth of our baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t holding your hand when you talked to the doctor. I’m so sorry for it all.”

  The damn breaks open, allowing the deluge of emotion to pour out of me.

  “He has a congenital heart defect.”

  Glancing up at me, a torrent of tears drips from his eyes. He quickly shields his face, burying it into the palms of his hands and his body shudders with quiet, painful sobs. He murmurs, rubbing his chest.

  “He can’t die. He can’t. I’ll give him my heart so that he can live.”

  My own heart is ready to explode, the ache completely unbearable.

  “Come here.” I tug at his T-shirt and guide him into my arms, carefully avoiding my C-section.

  He comes willingly.

  Tyler and I cry in each other’s arms, vowing to do whatever we need to do to save our newborn son’s life.

  “This is crazy,” he says, touching our foreheads together. “I haven’t even seen him yet and I love him so much.”

  “He’s beautiful and he looks just like you.”

  His phone chirps with a text alert and I see Penny’s name on the screen. Anger and hurt whisper in my ear, telling me to shove him away, but love and trust tell me to hold on. I inhale slowly as he reads the message. He types back quickly and slides the phone back into his pocket.

  I glance at him, expecting an answer.

  “There’s no change.”

  My expression falls and I sigh heavily.

  “I want to see him. I need to see him.”

  Before I can even say another word, Tyler is out the door.

  I stare at the crucifix on the far wall, again asking the question, “Why?”

  Bowing my head, I pray the unthinkable, the unimaginable, the most selfish thing I could ever pray for.

  When Tyler comes back into the room, his eyes are once again watery and red.

  “Did you touch him?”

  Shaking his head quickly from side to side, he replies, “I didn’t go in. I’m all dirty and sweaty.”

  I appreciate the thoughtfulness to our son’s safety.

  “Help me get in the wheelchair. We need to see our boy.”

  Back in the NICU, the nurse encourages my son’s father to wash his hands and slide on proper attire so he can hold the baby.

  Tyler sits in the chair and our child is placed gently in his arms. The nurse offers assistance and suggests he support the infant’s neck.

  He smiles and says, “I know how to hold a baby. I have a nephew.”

  The nurse returns the smile and proceeds to check on other babies.

  My eyes remain fixated on the interaction of Tyler and his son. Genuine love and affection pour out of him as he whispers sweet nothings.

  “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

  Tyler’s eyes roam over the sweet face of our little boy before he reaches for his phone.

  “What are you doing? Hold him with two hands!” I demand.

  “He’s fine. I’ve got him. I’d never let anything happen to him.”

  My anxiety speeds in my veins as he continues to use his phone.

  I reach for the baby. “Give him to me. Finish your text and then you can have him back.” Even as I beg for the baby, Tyler does not relinquish control of our son.

  “I’m not texting. I’m looking for something.”

  I roll my eyes dramatically and huff angrily.

  He looks down at our son thoughtfully; the baby’s head fitting perfectly in his father’s palm.

  “Ethan. His name is Ethan.”

  “Ethan?”

  “It means strong in Hebrew. He’s going to need to be strong and brave so he can get through this.”

  Like father, like son.

  “Ethan Tyler Strong,” I murmur as a smile creeps onto my face. “It’s perfect.”

  ***

  MY PARENTS WALTZ into the room, carrying a large bag of takeout food. My father and mother both give Tyler a stern glance and a frigid greeting.

  “It’s not what you think,” I whisper in my mom’s ear when she leans in to kiss me. “We’re good. I promise. He feels bad enough. Don’t make this worse, please.”

  She nods and walks over, offering a kinder salutation in the form of a kiss on his cheek followed by, “Congratulations.”

  Once again, Tyler’s phone chirps and I suppress the annoyance when he rises to take the call.

  On his way out, my dad grabs him by the shoulder and mutters something inaudible. Tyler nods and responds, “Yes, sir. You know I would never hurt her.”

  Later that night as we weigh our options about the course of action for our son, Tyler caresses my face and speaks softly. I can see he’s troubled.

  “I have to tell you something about Penny and I need you to just listen before you flip out.”

  I stiffen.

  “Please.”

  “Her little girl, Alex, is in really bad shape.”

  I stare at him as a lump in my throat forms. As much as I hate Penny for what she did, I don’t hate her child and I certainly wouldn’t want to see her hurt.

  “What happened?”

  “Penny was drunk and high on something—”

  “High on something? She can’t be on drugs—she’s pregnant.”

  He shakes his head sadly before mumbling, “Not anymore.”

  My hand slides across my belly where my son was less than twelve hours before.

  “She wasn’t paying attention to her kid; she was more interested in getting every guy’s attention.”

  I encourage him to go on.

  “Alex slipped and fell from the top of the bleachers, landed flat on her back.”

  “How do you know all this? Did you see it?”

  The image of a toddler falling nearly twenty feet onto the hard concrete ho
rrifies me. Why didn’t anyone call the waiting ambulance? Why wasn’t she rushed to the hospital?

  He releases a deep exhale and again shakes his head.

  “Rachel told me…at the hospital.”

  “Rachel from the video,” I affirm quietly.

  “Baby, that was a long time ago.”

  My lips tighten and I pull my eyes away from his.

  “Penny rushed over and picked her up. She thought Alex was okay, but apparently, she wasn’t because when they left the track to drive home, the kid started bleeding from her nose.”

  “And that’s when you stopped.”

  His pointed stare suggests that I’m correct.

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “Because she’s on life support.”

  My eyes widen and I clutch my chest, gasping, “Oh God!”

  “I can’t believe I’m even saying this, but if that little girl dies, Ethan might get a new heart.”

  My face crumbles in pain. The idea that someone else’s child must die so that mine can live is unbearable. I can’t fathom the pain of losing a child. The shadow of Death slices my heart open and it feels as though my soul has been ripped away.

  “I don’t know what to say,” I cry broken words. “I don’t want her to die, but I don’t want my son to die either.”

  Tyler’s voice cracks. “I know. It’s so hard…but this is my son, our son.”

  My eyes close, needing a moment away from this unbelievable and unbearable reality.

  Haunting words whisper in my ear.

  “We will always be connected. I will always be a part of your life. You need me. You’ll always need me.”

  ***

  DR. BALDONI IS informed of our decision to put Ethan on the list to receive a new heart. Again, he reviews the plan of action, the procedure and now the wait.

  Time is not on our side.

  Tyler and I spend every moment in the NICU, touching our boy, loving him, talking to him and praying for him. I want to cherish every single second; I don’t know how many more I’ll have with him.

  My mother taps on the window and holds up a small gift bag. Tyler rises to retrieve it and thanks her with a kiss to her cheek.

  Reaching into the white bag, he pulls out a blue onesie with an “S” on the chest.

  “Superman,” he breathes, smiling back at my mom who is wiping away tears.

  “Strong,” I correct.

  After begging the nurse, she relents and agrees to let me put the onesie on our baby boy. Tyler snaps a picture on his phone and sends it to his mom who is traveling home from a visit with Tre in Georgia.

  ***

  “OH, TY, HE’S beautiful! He looks just like you and your brother,” Stacy smiles before wiping her eyes. “I can’t believe how much he looks like Tre, too. All you boys looked so much alike.”

  “It’s all in those handsome genes,” I suggest.

  Tyler grins at my words and leans down to kiss me as I sit in the wheelchair.

  “I can’t wait for Tre to see him.,” Stacy adds. “He said he wants to show him that he can ride his bike now.”

  “Excuse me,” Tyler says, giving me a look as he holds his phone up, getting an update on Alexandra. He kisses me quickly and walks down the hall.

  NINE DAYS LATER Ethan is airlifted and transferred to Blakely Children’s Hospital.

  Our prayers have been answered.

  A new heart is on the way.

  The idea that someone else’s child, this particular child, had to die so that mine could live is excruciatingly painful and nearly unbearable.

  ***

  WAITING FOR HOURS while the team of medical experts gives our son new life is gut-wrenching, my heart stammers in my chest and my tears flow ceaselessly. My arms never leave their place around my husband’s back as he stares at the images of Tre on his phone.

  I have never seen a man in more agony.

  The memory of Stacy bursting through the door, screaming that Tre had been hit by a car while riding his bicycle was shockingly horrific. No one would have expected his life to end that moment. No one would have expected he would be the donor we prayed for. No one would have expected he would be a perfect match for his cousin.

  It rocked me to my core and caused Tyler’s knees to buckle, sending him to the linoleum floor with a hard crash.

  His body shuddered when he cried out a single word and buried his face in his palms. I wanted to reach down and gather the millions of pieces of his broken heart.

  Those words will forever be etched in my mind.

  Tyler didn’t speak. He didn’t eat. He didn’t move. He simply sat in the NICU and stared at Ethan.

  It wasn’t until he heard Jill’s voice on the phone that he come back to me. Back to us.

  I held the phone to his ear while he listened. Jill’s insistence that Tre’s heart be immediately tested as a match was an incredible testament to her faith in God. Everything she believes in was tested and proven strong as ever as she made the decision no parent should ever have to make.

  “Thank y—,” he whimpered before emotion robbed him of speech.

  I sobbed uncontrollably when she told me she had made the decision to donate all her son’s organs so he could save other children’s lives.

  “It’s what he would’ve wanted.”

  That conversation plays over and over as we continue to wait.

  ***

  “MOM, IT’S TAKING so long,” I say as I hiccup. “Something has to be wrong.”

  “Sweetheart, that baby is in the best hands possible.”

  I meet Stacy’s sad eyes and silently apologize, wishing there had been another way.

  Tyler still has not uttered a single word. I know his heart is completely and irrevocably broken.

  Through the window, I see the sun descend and the sky darken.

  My eyes fall heavily, my body weary and restless.

  My father offers a cup of coffee, but I shake my head and decline it.

  As we approach the fifth hour, a tall figure appears in the distance and I blink through the haziness.

  “Tyler. Karrie.”

  My husband jumps to his feet and stands before the door.

  The pediatric cardiologist sighs and then smiles warmly. “Your little boy did beautifully. Ethan’s new heart is beating loud and strong.”

  Throwing his arms around the doctor’s shoulders, Tyler sobs and thanks him profusely. I rise slowly and join Tyler as my hand rubs circles on his back when he refuses to let the doctor go,

  With a clearing of his throat, the doctor says, “The road ahead won’t be easy, but I think he’s going to be just fine. He seems like a fighter.”

  “Did you hear that?” Stacy cries, running her hands through Tyler’s hair. “Tre’s heart is strong. He gave Ethan his strong heart.”

  ***

  SINCE ETHAN IS in critical condition, I insist that Tyler accompany his mother to Georgia for Tre’s memorial service. I, on the other hand, refuse to leave my son’s side.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow night.” Tyler kisses me chastely and tells me that he loves me. He reaches up and taps his heart twice.

  I’m right there with you.

  “I’ll be right here waiting for you.” I smile at him, the man who I once hated and now love beyond measure.

  Tyler looks down at his phone before sliding it into his pocket.

  “Rachel.”

  I nod, accepting his explanation.

  “Please tell her I’m still praying for Alexandra.”

  Penny’s little girl, the child she conceived with my husband, is making small improvements every day. The Department of Child Services stepped in and temporarily revoked Penny’s parental rights, taking over custody of the toddler.

  Alex Parker would be mortified for his child.

  “Come here,” Tyler insists.

  The air in my lungs expels as his arms wrap tightly around me joining our bodies—our souls — together as one.

  �
�I don’t know if I can do this without you,” he pleads as his eyes fill with moisture.

  “You can. You can do this.” I caress his wet face.

  “I don’t understand why it had to be this way,” he mumbles into my neck.

  “I know. I don’t understand either.”

  “How do I say goodbye to him?”

  “You don’t.” I shake my head. “Tell him you’ll see him later…just like you always did.”

  With a quiet, broken voice, he whispers, “You’re incredible.” He looks down at my wedding ring and lifts my hand to his lips. A slow reverent kiss is placed on each knuckle.

  I pull my hand away and gently cup his face. “And you…” I wipe away the tears, “you are stronger than ever.”

  ***

  I STAND OVER the hard, clear plastic protecting my baby boy from germs and infection and smile at him. Glancing at the heart monitor, I watch the line spike up and drop down, a sign of his healthy heartbeat.

  “Hi, baby! You’re doing great, buddy. Before you know it, you’ll be crawling around and making a mess.”

  In his sleep, his chubby cheeks pull back in a smile. I wonder what he’s dreaming about.

  I pull my eyes away from his face and look down to the line on his tiny chest.

  “You and Daddy match.” My voice cracks, but I try to stay strong.

  “You are such a special little boy! Do you know that?” I reach into the hole and touch his long fingers. “You’ve got racing hands, don’t you?”

  Overcome with the realization of how much my life has changed, I swallow the boulder in my throat. I thank God for His precious gifts.

  “I love you and your daddy so much. You boys make my life complete. And now,” I smile, “I am stronger than ever.”

  Five years later…

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SUPERMAN!”

  Ethan roars with laughter, shooting his arms out in front of him while I support him with one hand under his chest and the other beneath his straightened legs.

  “I can fly, Dad! I can fly!”

  Joy fills my heart at my firstborn’s words.

  “That’s right, buddy. You can do anything!”