by Sammy King
“Just leave your pants off for now, because the doctor is going to want to do the same as I just did ok?” she said with a pat on my leg. “The doctor will come in soon, but everything felt ok to me, but we will know more after he has done some checking alright?”
I nodded as she opened the curtain and waved my Dad back into the small cubicle. He came to stand next to me, and held my hand as he kissed my forehead. I lay back on the pillow, and closed my eyes tight, praying that if there was a God, that he would give me a break.
We sat there for what felt like hours, when finally the doctor came in; he was an old grey haired man, who wore his glasses down on his nose, he looked over the top of them to talk to me. He didn’t say anything when he first came in, instead just walked over to the little folder, he skimmed over what had been said. Then he turned to my Dad smiled, and then turned to me.
“Well hello” he said with a grandfatherly smile that instantly put me at ease. “What seems to have happened to you hey?”
Dad explained to the doctor what had happened that morning.
“Have you had extra stress, other than of course the obvious of being pregnant?”
I sighed, not sure where to start.
“The father of the baby died a few days ago” Dad said. The doctor turned to look at him over the top of his glasses.
“Yes well that certainly won’t help, I’m sorry that happened” he said with a pat of my leg. “Now I have to have a little feel there to see what is going on, and then I’m going to do what’s called an ultrasound, to have a look to make sure bub’s is ok”
The doctor pointed to the curtain, and guided my dad out as he closed the curtain behind him. He lifted the blanket and told me to open my legs again, we went through the same procedure that the nurse had previously. This time it didn’t hurt quite as badly.
“Hmm yes ok, everything feels like it’s intact” he said as he peered down at me with a smile. As he pulled the blanket back down over my legs and took the gloves off, he smiled at me.
“Let’s get the ultrasound in here, and we will have a little look, shall we?” he said as he opened the curtain, and waved my Dad back into the room.
It wasn’t very long before he wheeled back in a machine with a screen on it and hooked it up to the power he shifted my dad into the corner of the room, with some irritation.
“Now let’s have a little look at what this baby is doing shall we?”
My Dad stood to leave, but the doctor waved for him to sit back down, and told him that he could stay for this.
As he put the rod onto my stomach, the gel felt cold and it was quite uncomfortable as he pushed in hard into my belly, I watched the screen, seeing black and white shadows.
“Ah there we go, here is bub” the doctor said, pointing at the screen.
I could make out the tiniest of blobs in the centre; it didn’t look like a baby.
“And here is bubs heart, see that flashing bit” he said pointing at the screen. I smiled as I saw the heart beating, and watched it flash black and white on the screen.
“Looks very healthy and I would say by the size of the baby you are fourteen weeks pregnant, not quite big enough for me to tell what you are having, but I can tell you that baby is very healthy and happy in there”
I heard my Dad sigh with relief. He reached over and squeezed my ankle I looked at him and smiled, a genuine smile. It was the best news I had be given since Dylan died. The doctor started to pack away the ultrasound machine, and wiped the excess gel off my belly with a baby towel.
“Well young lady, I would say the pain you felt, was your body’s way of saying stop stressing. Which is a little hard, with what is going on in your life at the moment, but I think I can say that the father of this baby would like you to care for his little one properly” the doctor said as he pat my shoulder, and gave it a little squeeze.
I smiled and agreed that I would take care of the baby. I would take care of Dylan’s baby.
Chapter Twelve.
We finally got home in the late afternoon. My heart was still broken, but I had a small ray of hope, and as I looked down at the little square shiny black and white picture with the blob in centre, I smiled, my baby, Dylan’s baby that was my ray of hope that would keep me going. The doctor had given me a referral letter for the prenatal services and the nurse gave me a fistful of pamphlets about having a baby.
When we got home, Tilly was seated in the lounge room, the bong between her legs. She looked up with blood shot eyes. Dad flew into the room, and knocked the bong from her hands the slap on Tilly’s face resounded throughout the room.
“Dad” I screamed.
Dad was an angry man, I knew that, but he had never slapped either of us before. Tilly held her face and I could see the red mark that had already started to form on her cheek under her hand. Dad with clenched fists and stormed out into the kitchen, I heard the back door slam. I stood there and stared at Tilly, as she just rocked back and forth her hand on her cheek. I went and picked the bong up from off the floor, and took it out the back door. I could see Dad standing next to the shed, punching the wall, tears streamed down his face, his teeth beared, his knuckles shattered with every punch. I quickly put the bong in the bin, and ran to his side. I grabbed Dad’s arms, and pulled him away from the shed, he moved away easily, and fell to his knees on the grass. I knelt down beside him and held him, as he cried. He sat up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, and as he looked at me he smoothed my hair.
“I’ve got to make this right Mon, I’ve got to make up for everything that I did to you and Tilly” he said.
I shook my head, he didn’t have to do anything, he had been a terrible father, that was true, he had brought drugs and death into our lives, but these were in the past, if I had learnt nothing over my sixteen years, it was that I had to keep dreaming for a better future or the past would consume and eat me up.
“We will make it Dad. It will get better” I heard Dylan’s voice telling me everything was going to be ok as I hugged my dad there in the back yard on the browning grass, blood covered his fingers and hand, the skin torn and broken.
The days went by like a blip in time. After about three weeks, the coroner had released Dylan’s body for burial. Michael had been charged with murder and Shelly with conspiracy to murder. The magistrate was holding Michael in custody until the trial, but Shelly was allowed to go home. We didn’t see her, but I didn’t want to see her. They still hadn’t admitted that they killed him; they said that he slipped and fell, but the police said that they had more than enough evidence to charge them. I just wanted them to admit what they had done; it wasn’t that I wanted them to tell the truth necessarily as much as I wanted them to tell me why. It was the question that Sandra kept asking me, why? I didn’t know; I couldn’t comprehend how someone could take a rock and bash another person’s skull in. It broke my heart to even think about it, so I tried to focus on my time spent with Dylan, the days in the back of the van, him sneaking into my room, and the baby he had given me.
I couldn’t tell who was more excited, my Dad or Sandra. Dad had told Tilly that I was pregnant, but he omitted the fact that the baby was Dylan’s. He told me that she didn’t need to know that, so we agreed to keep it quiet. Sandra agreed that it was for the best, we decided we would cross that bridge when the baby was born. Not that it seemed to matter; Tilly became more and more distant from us all with every day that passed. She spent more time with Chantelle, and took more drugs. When she was home one night, I noticed, the all too familiar needle mark in the crook of her elbow. I didn’t tell Dad, I didn’t want to upset him.
The night before the funeral, Sandra had organised with the funeral home, to have a viewing. It was an opportunity for everyone that was close to Dylan to come and say their final goodbyes. I was scared, the last dead body I had seen, was that of my mother, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to see the man I loved, cold and lifeless.
Dad drove me over to the funeral home. It was a sterile looking bro
wn brick building, with darkened windows. As we walked in the front doors, the smell of perfumed cleaners hit my nose, almost overpowering me. I looked around the room; the carpet was a dark red; plastic flowers donned the hall and made the room look more depressing. A small wiry man came out of the room with a sombre smile and a small meek voice he greeted Dad. He shook my hand with a limp wet hand shake. Dad explained who we were, and the small man led us into a smaller room.
I saw Sandra standing by a coffin at the front of the room; she stood motionless, she stared down at Dylan’s lifeless body. I looked around, and saw cakes and sandwiches on a table. I remember thinking who could possibly eat while looking at a dead body. Sandra looked up at us as we walked through the doors, and gave us a small smile. She looked tired and withered; this situation had taken such a toll on her. I could see through her eyes, just how much her heart was breaking. Although I wanted to walk to her and comfort her, I couldn’t get my feet to move, it was like I was being magnetically held to the spot. Dad dropped my hand, and went to Sandra, and wrapped her up in his arms. Dylan’s father had left when just after his sister Jessica was born, so she had to wear the brunt of this all on her own.
She stood there with loud sobs into my Dad’s neck. I stared at the coffin next to them. From where I stood I couldn’t see Dylan, my heart was racing; I touched my belly, and summoned up all the strength that I had. Dylan’s twelve year old sister, Jessica, sat on the floor cross legged at the foot of the coffin. Tears ran down her face while she held a picture of Dylan and her. I looked around the room, in the corner there were a couple of men that I didn’t recognise, I saw some of his friends that he had gone to school with. I looked for Tilly but she wasn’t anywhere there, I sighed with relief when I didn’t see Shelly either.
I managed to put one foot in front of the other as I approached the coffin. I sucked a hard breath in as I caught my first glimpse of Dylan. Grief hit me like a tsunami. A guttural groan escaped my lips, as there he lay, perfectly beautiful, his eyes closed, and his long dark eye lashes brushing against his cheeks. His lips slightly turned up at the edges as if he was in the most peaceful of sleeps. The groan had turned into sobs which soon turned into a scream, which continued to come in waves. I felt Dad’s arms holding mine. I reached out and ran my fingers across Dylan’s lips. They were soft under my touch, but cold all the same. My voice soon became husky and the screams subsided to a sob that shook my whole body. I could feel everyone in the room staring at me, their eyes boring into my head, but I didn’t care. The grief I felt was so overwhelming.
I stood there for a long time, touching Dylan’s face, his hair, and holding his hands. I studied every part of his face, to try and find something that would tell me that it wasn’t Dylan lying there, but some person that just looked like him. However, there was nothing, nothing to put any doubt in my mind it was anyone but him. I heard Sandra talking with the small wiry man behind me. He was telling her that we had to leave, as he had to prepare for the funeral the next day. I leant into the coffin, and kissed Dylan’s lips.
“I love you” I whispered.
I waited for his response, and hoped to even see a flicker of his eye lids, I hoped that it was all just some sick joke, and if he woke up shouting Boo, I wouldn’t even be angry at him. I pleaded silently for him to wake up. But the stillness in the room, the silence, it was deafening.
Dad put his arm around my shoulders, and held me close. I watched as Sandra with sobs leant in to kiss her son, Jessica stood up from her place on the floor, going over to Dylan, I watched as she touched his face, and slid the picture under his hands. Dylan’s friends came over and touched his shoulder, shaking Sandra’s hand as they walked past. One of them touched Jessica on the chin and leant down, giving her cheek a kiss. She smiled up at him as he walked away. I turned to see that the room was empty. Sandra came and stood next to Dad, and with his other arm, he reached up and put it around her shoulder. Jessica stood next to me, wrapping her arms around my belly, and leaning her head onto my chest. We stood there, all looking down at Dylan, our hearts shattered into millions of pieces.
“I’m sorry I don’t mean to hurry you, but I have to shut the room off now” we all jumped as the little meek man spoke behind us. We turned to see him holding a large wreath in his hands.
“Yes, sorry, we are going” Dad said, and began to lead us out the doors.
None of us were ready to go home, none of us wanted to be alone with our thoughts and feelings. Sandra suggested we go and find a McDonalds that was open. When we pulled into the McDonalds, we went inside and ordered some burgers. We sat at the table until the staff finally had to come and tell us we needed to leave. We talked and remembered all the funny stories we could about Dylan. Sandra told us what he was like as a baby. It was the first time we had laughed for what felt like forever. As we left and walked back to the cars, none of us wanted to face what tomorrow was going to bring. Sandra reached out and touched my belly, which had started to slightly protrude.
“Dylan is going to be with us for a lot longer now” she said smiling; she leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the cheek. I smiled back at her, placing my hand on her hand.
“Grandma, Sandra” I said as her smile grew even bigger. Tears filled her eyes, as she got into her car. I stood there watching them drive off down the road, Dad by my side, my hand on my belly.
Chapter Thirteen.
That morning as I got dressed my heart was heavy; it was like there was a dark cloud that hung over me and I couldn’t shake it away. I hadn’t slept well the night before, and my dreams were filled with Dylan, one minute he would be smiling or kissing me and then lying in that coffin, lifeless and cold. I shuddered at the thought. I hadn’t seen Tilly in days, I had no idea whether she was even going to bother turning up to the funeral or not.
Dad and I drove to the funeral home in silence, I didn’t have any words I could say, and every time I went to open my mouth to make small talk, nothing would come out. The funeral home looked just as cold and uninviting during the day as it did at night. They had moved the coffin into a different room as I watched people file in through the door and take a seat. The same meek man from the night before came up beside me and asked if I wanted to see Dylan one more time, before the funeral, I shook my head as Dad took my hand. Everyone began to sit down and the conversations lowered, Sandra and Jessica came out behind a curtain; I could the meek man lower the lid of the coffin, before he pulled the curtain all the way back. I looked around the room and searched the faces to see if I could see Tilly, but she wasn’t there. Suddenly a familiar face caught my attention, right at the back of the room, tucked into the corner, almost invisible, it was Shelly. Anger raged through me and my hand tightened around Dad’s. He turned to see what I was looking at. Dad leaned over to me and whispered into my ear to stay calm, for Sandra, Dylan and the baby’s sake. I snapped my head back straight in front of me, still seething underneath. Sandra saw Dad and I standing in the second row, she came towards us, she wrapped her arms around us, her sobs the only sound to be heard. She took my hand led me into the front row, to sit with her and Jessica.
As I sat, with Dad on one side and Sandra on the other my own tears flowed down my cheeks. This was too final, it was too much. The meek funeral director, stood in front of the lectern and began to speak about Dylan, he told stories of when Dylan was a child and what he meant to everyone around him. I smiled as he talked of the caring loving heart Dylan had, and how he would do anything for anyone. The meek man said how he would be missed by everyone. I thought not everyone; Tilly didn’t seem to be missing him too much. The man spoke directly to Sandra and Jessica; he told them that Dylan would be with them forever, in their hearts. We all stood as six men seemed to appear out of nowhere and hoist the coffin onto their shoulders. As they walked past us, Sandra, Jessica, Dad and I all followed the coffin through the doors. I kept my head down at the ground, Dad held my hand; I only looked up to see Shelly, a tissue to her face, tears sliding down h
er cheeks. I stared at her as we walked through the doors, and gripped Dad’s hand tight, as I tried to quell any urge to punch her in the face.
The sky was a bright blue, with only one single white fluffy cloud in sight. The sun’s rays were warm but not too hot, as the men slid the coffin into the back of the black hearse. Sandra and Jessica climbed into the back seat of the hearse as Dad and I went and got in our car, to follow them to the cemetery. We all drove slowly with our lights on, the cars pulled up to a grassy hill. I looked around, the cemetery was smattered with trees and green grass surrounded the black and stone headstones. A mound of soft freshly dug dirt was piled next to an open hole. The same six men carried the coffin to the hole, and placed it on the metal pulley that sat poised, ready to drop the coffin down into the earth.
The meek man said a few words about how death wasn’t the end, although it was the end of life, it wasn’t at the same time, and that Dylan would continue to live on in our hearts and our memories. And our baby, I thought, as I gingerly touched my belly. As they lowered the coffin into the ground, Sandra dropped a handful of dirt down, her sobs wracked through her body. She stood back and fell into Dad’s arms. I went over the hole, it seemed so far down. Panic gripped my heart, this was the end, and I would never see his beautiful face, his eyes or touch his skin ever again. I dropped the single red rose that I had been clutching on to the top of the brown wooden coffin, and turned into my Dad’s free arm. There we stood as a family, a broken family, as we said goodbye to a beautiful man, a man that was going to make everything better, and a man that brought us all together.
After the funeral we went back to Sandra’s house where her neighbours had prepared some finger foods and drinks for everyone. I sat in the lounge, with Jessica by my side. She clutched hold of my hand, as if afraid to let it go. Sandra seemed to be a in a zombie like state, she didn’t really talk to anyone, just sat in the kitchen and stared off into space. Dad would touch her shoulder and give it a squeeze every now and then, just to make sure she was alright.
