Necessary Heartbreak

by Michael J. Sullivan

  “Vicki!” Michael shouted, a huge grin on his face.

  “Hi,” she said rather weakly. “Boy, I’m beat. Can we just go up to bed early and maybe watch some TV?”

  Then Vicki saw the dining room. “Oops,” she said with a laugh. “You’ve got something special planned tonight, don’t you?”

  Michael’s smile cracked through a showy grimace. “Wow, where did you get that idea?”

  “I’m sorry. I was late . . .”

  “Why are you late? Why didn’t you call?”

  “A car got stuck on the railroad crossing in Northport. They wouldn’t open the doors until we pulled completely into the station.”

  Michael paused slightly, crossed his arms, and dramatically rolled his eyes.

  “You don’t believe me? You think I have a man I keep by the crossroads? Jealous?”

  She giggled, before jumping into his arms. Her lips brushed his earlobe as she looked behind him at the table. “Thank you for setting this up so beautifully.”

  “I hope it’s not ruined.”

  “It’s not,” she said as she gave him a peck on the cheek. “Relax.”

  She sat down while Michael placed a piece of chicken on her plate. “Looks great,” she said. “Somehow I have a feeling we are going to talk about something serious.”

  Michael smiled. She knows me. Whenever he cooked an extravagant dinner, he had something on his mind to discuss.

  “Do you need more money to invest? Oh, no, are you starting another business?” By now, Vicki was used to Michael approaching her with new, big ideas. Usually, she just held her breath.

  “Nope.”

  “We’re not going to move again, are we? We’ve moved four times in the last seven years.”

  “No.”

  “Well, can you blame me?”

  “We . . . are . . . not . . . moving,” Michael said, underscoring each word.

  “Good.” Vicki smiled. “Now, I’m ready for anything.”

  Michael was quiet, fumbling with his champagne flute. He felt the bubbles popping up to his nose as he leaned over to gain the courage to speak.

  “I think I’m ready to start a family.”

  Vicki coughed out her champagne. “Oh, you are?”

  “Yeah!”

  “You do realize I’m the one who has to carry the baby for nine months, don’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  She cut anxiously at her piece of chicken. “Honey, can you imagine how our lives would change? You know I have to keep working so that we have health care.”

  “So?”

  “So, you would have to be the one caring for the baby while I work.”

  “Yes,” he said sternly, “I know my role here.”

  After they finished the rest of the dinner in pained silence, Vicki turned to him and said, “Let’s go upstairs and talk, okay? I’m really tired.”

  When they reached their bedroom, she motioned for him to lie down on his stomach so she could rub his back.

  “Sweetie, I want a family, too. But, to be honest, I’m scared. I know you will be good at it, I just don’t know if I’ll be.”

  Michael’s head shot up from the bed. “What?”

  “I’m afraid.”

  Turning under her, Michael put his hand up to her cheek. “You will be a great mother. I know that because you are a great wife.”

  “That’s different,” she said, looking away.

  “There’s one thing that is the same in both situations.” He placed his right hand in the middle of her chest. “This heart thumps with so much love,” he whispered, reaching up and kissing her. “Believe me.”

  Vicki leaned over and turned out the lights, as Michael shifted back onto his stomach. He felt her soft hands massaging his shoulders again before she placed her whole body on top of his.

  “I do want to have a child,” she whispered to him.

  “I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  “I know.”

  She rolled off him and left the room.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Hold on.”

  She walked back into the bedroom, holding two flickering candles. “These are needed up here,” she said, placing them on the nightstand.

  Vicki climbed into Michael’s outstretched arms, resting her head on his chest. “You’re really not scared?”

  “No.”

  Lifting her head to look into his eyes, she smiled. “Thanks for giving me a push in life. I guess I needed one.”

  “Thanks for allowing me to push you,” he replied with a short laugh.

  “I know you’re going to be a great dad.”

  “And I know you are going to be a great mommy.”

  “Hmmm, I like the way that sounds, ‘Mommy.’” She brushed his lips with hers, in short, gentle kisses. “What should we name the baby if it’s a boy?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, laughing, “just as long as it’s not after me.”

  “What about a name for a girl?”

  “Elizabeth. I always loved that name.”

  “Elizabeth?”

  “Yes, Elizabeth.”

  Awake now, Leah wandered around the second floor trying to find Elizabeth. Her face was filled with fear as she ran up the ladder leading to the roof.

  “Elizabeth?”

  She rushed back to the second floor, before descending to the first at a furious pace.

  “Eliz—” Leah stopped as she saw Elizabeth asleep in the stall with her head resting on the back of the lamb, her cheeks stained with tears.

  “Good morning, Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth’s puffy eyes opened slightly but she didn’t respond. She was despondent, having slept poorly, distressed about her father. She had looked out the window several times during the night, finally coming down the ladder to wait for him in the courtyard. But she got scared and ran back inside to cuddle up with the lamb.

  “Is my father back?” Elizabeth asked desperately. She began petting the lamb, but then with Leah watching her, stopped abruptly, feeling guilty about trying to fatten the lamb up the day before.

  Leah shook her head. “I need your help.”

  Elizabeth let out a big sigh before turning toward the lamb. “I’ll be back, Cassie.”

  Leah looked back in surprise as she walked over to the smoldering fire. “Cassie?”

  “Yes, Cassie. Everyone has a name.”

  Leah shook her head. “Why don’t you help me until your father returns,” she said, trying to distract her. “It will be good for you.”

  “How do you know what’s good for me?”

  Leah turned around to face Elizabeth. “Do you speak that way to your mother?”

  “I don’t have a mother.”

  “What?”

  “My mother isn’t around.” Then Elizabeth added defiantly, “But my father and I are fine, okay?”

  Leah straightened up and looked Elizabeth in the eye. “I’m sorry. It must have been difficult.”

  Elizabeth looked away. “Sometimes.”

  “Who took care of you when you were young?”

  “My dad . . . when he could . . .”

  Leah moved a few steps closer. “Tell me what you mean.”

  Elizabeth sat on one of the two low stools resting near the stall. Leah pulled back a few steps, as if she recognized that the girl needed her space. “There really isn’t much to say,” she said, as her mind wandered back to third grade.

  Elizabeth ran across the playground to play tag with Laura, screaming in delight when she finally caught up to her best friend. “Gotcha!” Then, panting, she curled down against the pole holding up one of the basketball nets.

  “You win,” Laura said.

  Elizabeth laughed.

  “You tired?”

  Elizabeth nodded, trying to catch her breath. A group of girls were gathering at the far end of the playground. “Let’s go see what they’re doing,” said Laura, jumping to her feet.

  Elizabeth took another dee
p breath and stood up. “Is that Miss Bittner?”

  “Yes! Let’s go!”

  The girls raced across the concrete and onto the grass where Elizabeth’s class was gathering around the teacher. They could see Miss Bittner talking to the students. As Laura and Elizabeth approached, Miss Bittner put her hand up in protest.

  “Hold on, girls,” she said in a firm voice. “I’ll be back in two minutes.”

  She then gestured toward Elizabeth. “Sweetie, come with me,” she said as she held Elizabeth’s hand.

  Miss Bittner led Elizabeth inside the school and back to the classroom. “Sit here,” she said, pointing to the seat closest to the door. “I have to do something, Elizabeth. But I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Okay, honey?”

  Elizabeth nodded, then as Miss Bittner turned away, meekly said, “Miss Bittner, am I in trouble? Did I do something wrong?”

  Miss Bittner stopped and turned quickly back toward Elizabeth. “Oh, dear, no, honey. No. Absolutely not.”

  The teacher bent down and gave Elizabeth a hug. “You can never do anything wrong, sweetie. I just need to take care of something outside and then I’ll return.”

  Miss Bittner touched the top of Elizabeth’s hair and weakly smiled. She stood up and briskly walked out of the classroom.

  Elizabeth sat quietly, but grew anxious after a few minutes. When she heard the occasional burst of screams from the playground outside, she thought about leaving her chair. She could hear her friend Laura squealing. She walked to the window closest to the commotion. Miss Bittner was high-fiving the girls as they jumped up and down.

  Elizabeth pressed her face against the window. The frown deepened when she saw a smile on Laura’s face as Miss Bittner slapped her outstretched hand. When she saw her teacher and classmates make their way back into the school, Elizabeth ran back to her seat and buried her face.

  The murmuring chatter of the boys and girls filled the hallway. Elizabeth wiped the tears from her face.

  “Hi, Lizzie!” said Laura with a smile.

  “Hi.” Elizabeth eyed her friend warily. “Laura, what happened outside?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Please tell me, Laurie, you’re my best friend. We tell each other everything. Right?”

  Laura sat behind Elizabeth, who turned around to face her. “C’mon.”

  “Shh, I’m not supposed to say. Miss Bittner would be mad.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I won’t tell her. Tell me. Is it a surprise for me? My birthday is next week.”

  Laura shook her head. “No. We’re having a mother-daughter day at the park. We don’t have to go to school that day!”

  Elizabeth’s face fell and she turned around. She placed her face in her hands. Laura got up and stood in front of her. She moved her face closer to Elizabeth. “Are you crying?”

  “No!”

  “Miss Bittner, Lizzie’s crying.” Then, in a whisper meant only for Elizabeth, Laura said, “Please don’t tell her I told you.”

  The teacher came over to Elizabeth. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  She started to cry again. “I don’t know what I did wrong.”

  “Did Laura say anything to you?”

  Elizabeth was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “No. I want to go home.”

  Miss Bittner realized Elizabeth was in no mood to be consoled. She gathered Elizabeth’s belongings and walked her to the office. “Elizabeth isn’t feeling so good now,” Miss Bittner said to Mrs. Loscalzo, the school office manager. “Can you call Mr. Stewart?”

  “Don’t you think you should be the one to call him this time?” asked Mrs. Loscalzo. “I don’t like calling him while he’s working. You know how he is.”

  Miss Bittner frowned. “Okay, I’ll make the call next door in the nurse’s office.”

  Elizabeth watched as Miss Bittner walked into the hallway. She returned moments later.

  “Elizabeth, your dad will be by to pick you up soon.” She bent down and gave her a hug. “Feel better, sweetie, okay?”

  Elizabeth nodded and sat stoically in the office until her father arrived. When she saw him, her face lit up briefly. “Daddy! I want to go home.”

  “Are you sick, Elizabeth?” he asked, placing his hand on her forehead. He looked at Mrs. Loscalzo. “Did she throw up? Have a fever?”

  “Not that I know of, Mr. Stewart. Perhaps you can give Miss Bittner a call after school.”

  “I don’t have the time today to do that. I’ve got bills to pay, a mortgage, have to put oil in the tank for the winter.”

  “Mr. Stewart, do you want me to call Miss Bittner right now to come down to talk to you?”

  “Yes.”

  Elizabeth squirmed in her seat and looked worriedly at her father. “Daddy, let’s go. I’m not sick.”

  Michael sat down next to her. “Then, honey, why do you want to leave if you aren’t sick?”

  She hesitated. “Are you going to get mad?”

  “No. What’s wrong?”

  Elizabeth leaned over and started whispering in Michael’s ear. Twice she pulled away, afraid to tell him, but then continued with her story. Mrs. Loscalzo, hands folded on her chin and elbows resting on the office counter, remained quiet but attentive.

  Michael stood up. “Where’s Miss Bittner?”

  “She’s on her way,” Mrs. Loscalzo replied.

  “Tell her I’ll wait outside,” he said, pointing to the doorway.

  Elizabeth watched as her father walked out of the office. A few minutes later, she could hear the muted sounds of their conversation. She couldn’t make out the words.

  “Elizabeth, I’ll be back in a moment,” Mrs. Loscalzo said, picking up some mail and leaving through the back doorway linking the offices.

  When Mrs. Loscalzo left, Elizabeth slipped out of the office and into the hallway. She pressed against the corner of the wall. Now she could hear them perfectly.

  “So you brought my kid to tears because you excluded her?” Michael asked incredulously.

  “I didn’t want to hurt her feelings,” Miss Bittner remarked.

  “Well, that didn’t work, did it?”

  “Mr. Stewart, what would you suggest I do?”

  “Include her.”

  “Mr. Stewart, when I’ve included her in the past, she would still end up crying. Don’t you see?”

  “See what?”

  “Mr. Stewart, we’ve had mother/daughter and father/son trips or events in the past. But you never respond to them. So I didn’t want your daughter to have another letdown.”

  Elizabeth peered around the corner. She could see her father looking down at the ground as he answered, “You have no idea how hard this all is.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Stewart, but it’s not like we haven’t had this conversation before.”

  “I’m sorry, Elizabeth,” Leah said, trying to disrupt the long, awkward silence. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “If you’re so sorry, why didn’t you wake me?” Elizabeth said through tears. “Where is he?”

  Leah was shaken. What have I done? What if her father was captured? He’ll never get out of that prison alive now. I’ll have to take care of this girl.

  “Where is he?”

  “I am so sorry,” Leah began, “but I couldn’t . . . I’m worried about your father, too.”

  Leah tried to hug her, but Elizabeth pushed her away. “I don’t need your pity,” she said, wiping her tears from her cheeks. “I’m fine.”

  “I know you are. Let’s go upstairs and eat.” Leah handed Elizabeth a bowl of porridge with extra honey and led the way up the ladder.

  After they ate a few moments in silence, Elizabeth asked Leah, “Do you have any children?”

  Leah stopped eating.

  “What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked, staring. She noticed Leah was looking at her hands in her lap. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  Leah looked directly into her eyes. “We had a child. But she became ill just a few weeks after s
he was born. We couldn’t save her.”

  Elizabeth put her hands over her mouth. “Oh, no . . . I’m so sorry,” she said through her clasped fingers. “I don’t know why I ask these things. Forgive me?”

  Leah nodded, before saying, “My husband grieved for so long. I know you can’t truly understand this, but when a child dies, you lose yourself . . . well, that is until he found the man who spoke about a new world.”

  “Who was that?”

  “I’m not sure. I believe your father knows of him.”

  “Has my father met him?”

  Leah shook her head. “I’m not sure. He’s a man who talks about love and understanding. My husband would follow him and listen to him . . . when he could find him, that is. But there were many who questioned my husband’s belief in this man, though he didn’t care what they said. Ultimately, he was murdered.”

  “Who killed him?”

  Leah began to cry.

  “I’m sorry. Please, please, don’t cry.”

  “Elizabeth, I just don’t know what happened. I never really saw their faces. The crowd swirled around him, and I still don’t know what I saw . . . if I saw anything. He had been away and I had stopped expecting him to come back.

  “But then I heard him calling out to me. He was home . . . after all that time, he had finally returned! I was elated as I ran up to the roof. I only wanted to see him looking at me, after all those nights waiting up there. I rushed to the side wall, hoping to see what was going on, but the crowd was too chaotic. I was petrified, watching them swarm below. I couldn’t see him.”

  “You didn’t go out to help him?” Elizabeth asked in disbelief.

  “Elizabeth, I am so ashamed. I did not know he was in trouble. I went to the roof rather than out to the well. When I realized that he was hurt, I panicked. I had been grieving and feeling isolated for so long. I just felt weak. What could I do? When I got to him, it was too late . . . I was too late.”

  The familiar front courtyard of Leah’s home was about a hundred yards away. Michael was hungry, and his body felt battered. The blisters on his feet bled with each step against the dirty stone roads of Jerusalem. This is still Monday, right?