by Lesley Jones
“Sometimes, the only conversation I get to have with an adult is at the supermarket. The girl or boy on the checkout ask me how my day has been more than you ever do. Have you any idea how that makes me feel?” I was full on crying. I just let it go. My throat ached from the sobs I tried to speak around. “Lonely, isolated, worthless,” I spit out. “I look forward to you coming home all day, and then you just don’t turn up. No call, no text, nothing. It’s like I don’t exist anymore, like I’m just not important enough to bother with.”
He shook his head continuously as I spoke and looked at me in utter disbelief.
“It’s not like that—” I held up my hand to cut him off. I needed to get this out, and now that I had started, I couldn’t stop.
“And then on the nights you do come home, you take the kids up for their baths, you sit and eat dinner with me—giving me the tiniest scraps of your attention—and then you pass out cold on the sofa. Then, I’m alone again. Alone and feeling worthless. Like my life has no purpose other than to wipe arses and noses and cook dinners.”
His arms fell to his sides and the expression on his face was one of agony.
“I fucking love you!” he screamed. “Never, never have I considered you worthless and without purpose.” Tears streamed from his eyes as he spoke, his face twisting as if he were in physical pain. The machine monitoring my heart was frantic with its beeps, and the blood pressure cuff was tightening again. Nurse Judy barrelled through the door this time, eyebrows drawn into a frown, looking like she wanted to inflict harm instead of help me sip water.
“This is a hospital, can you please keep it down? Otherwise, I will have to ask you to leave.” Her eyes met mine and softened. “Are you okay, Sarah? The doctor shouldn’t be too long now.” I nodded my head and gave her a small smile through my tears. She looked pointedly between us. “She’s been through enough, you really should give her a break right now,” she told Liam.
He shook his head, but she gave him a long look before she shrugged her shoulders and left.
“All you had to do was talk to me, just open your mouth and say the words. I would’ve listened. I would’ve gotten you help. I would’ve done anything, any fucking thing for you, Sarah, but this, what you’ve done . . . I don’t . . .”
“I had an abortion.”
There, just like that. Four little words, and my dirty secret was out there.
He stepped back, no, he staggered back from my bed. His mouth hung open as he drew in air.
“What? When? I don’t . . . Why?” Confusion, panic, disbelief. I saw it all in his eyes. There was nothing but sheer horror written all over his face.
“Six months ago. I knew I was pregnant almost immediately. It happened when we were in the South of France, when I forgot to take my pills with me. That last night.”
He closed his eyes tightly, bent over, and gasped in air like he had just run a marathon.
“I went two whole weeks without contraception, and you promised you’d be careful. You . . . we weren’t.”
He stood up straight and looked right at me.
“It was mine? You weren’t having an affair?”
I wanted to cause him physical harm for that comment. Despite everything—the situation I’d created, what I did—I was shocked that he would think that I would ever do that to him, to us.
“No, I was not having an affair. I have four children, three of whom are under five. I can’t take a shit without at least one of them in the bathroom with me. When the fuck would I have time for an affair? But aside from that, I would never do that to you. I would never do that to us.”
He laughed sardonically.
“You’d never have an affair, but you’d go behind my back and murder my child, then try to top yourself because you can’t live with the guilt?” He was frothing at the corners of his mouth as he spat out his words through clenched teeth.
“I don’t know you any more, Sarah, and that breaks my heart. I don’t know you, but right now, I fucking hate you.”
He lifted both hands to his head and gripped at his hair whilst he tried to draw in a breath. His face was wet from tears, his nose was running, and he could barely breathe. He was broken. I had broken him. My husband. The one and only love of my life. I had broken him.
“You murdered my baby,” he stated very quietly. “Without even discussing it with me. Fuck. Fuck. After everything we went through to bring them into the world? How could you do that without talking to me?” He picked up the chair he was sitting in earlier and smashed it repeatedly against the wall.
I cowered in my bed and cried.
“We’re done! We’re fucking done, you murdering cunt. Right now, I don’t think I care if I never set eyes on you again.”
I curled onto my side and cried harder, not bothering to watch him walk out of my hospital room and my life.
2016
I kicked the side of my car so hard that the dent I caused was deep enough to split the paintwork. I kicked it again for good measure. I pressed my forehead against the cold of the driver’s side window and tried to draw in deep breaths.
From the minute I realised Sarah wasn’t home yesterday afternoon, I had been shaking. My heart, my soul, my bones, even the blood in my veins had been shaking nonstop. I had never been so scared in my life. Terrified.
I went through the doors of that hotel room expecting to find one thing, and instead, I found another. Something I never expected to see in my life—ever.
A loud sob ripped from my chest, and I pulled open the car door, collapsed into the driver’s seat, and slammed it shut after me.
Why? Why would she do this? To herself, to me, to our boys?
I was hurt, scared, and so fucking angry.
I had cried so many tears and held even more back, but now that I was finally on my own, I couldn’t let them go.
The image of my wife lying so small and lifeless on that hotel bed hit me again, and I only just got the car door open in time to throw up the four cups of shit-house hospital coffee I drank while I’d waited for her to wake up.
I swiped the back of my hand across my mouth and tried to breathe. I needed to get home to my kids—our kids—our boys. The babies that Sarah and I made together. What the fuck was I going to tell Carter? He was almost eight and did not miss a beat. He was gonna want to know where his mum was. The twins and Lucas were still young enough that as long as their little bellies were full and the Disney Chanel was on, they were happy and oblivious to what else was going on around them.
Our boys.
How could she?
I needed answers. The same questions circled in my brain like vultures, picking me apart. How the fuck could she do this? All she had to do was talk to me.
I shouldn’t have shouted at her the way I did. I shouldn’t have said the things that I did, but fuck, she terminated a pregnancy without even telling me.
She went through all of that by herself. She said six months ago, but why the fuck didn’t she come to me? I would have listened. I would have helped her through it. My whole body froze, and guilt sank its teeth in deeper.
Would I really have helped her through it?
I wanted that baby—even now, I wanted it.
I was so fucking mad that she didn’t talk to me.
I was furious that she did what she did…
My heart broke that she went through it all on her own.
My chest felt cleaved open, my heart shredded.
My wife couldn’t talk to me, she was scared, lonely and depressed. I was her husband and she couldn’t even talk to me about it, because she knew, she knew and I knew, what I would say.
I started to cry again. My chest, my heart, and my head were at war with each other. I was so fucking angry with myself for not seeing there was a problem. A problem. That was the understatement of the fucking century. My wife just tried to kill herself, and I had no clue . . . no fucking idea that she was the least bit unhappy. How? How did I not know this?
We ha
d a good life. That was what I thought. Yeah, work had been an issue, the long hours and the travelling were a huge stress on both of us, but we were just coming out the other end of that. Things would have started to get better.
The boys were growing and becoming more independent. She would have had more time for herself over the next few years, and we would’ve had more time for each other.
The phone rang, and I grabbed it, thinking it was the hospital. It was Luke.
“What’s happening?”
“All’s quiet here, the kids are sleeping. We made a camp in the playroom. I’m the best uncle in the world.”
“That you are my friend, that you are.”
“She awake?”
“Yep.”
“Answers?”
“She had an abortion.”
“What? When? You never knew?”
“I had no clue. She got pregnant while we were in the South of France. She’d been sick before we went. Some stomach bug she picked up from Carter and then she forgot to pack her pills when we went away.”
“But I still don’t understand. Why didn’t she just tell you she didn’t want another one?”
I started to cry. I knew why she didn’t come to me . . .
“Because she knew I’d talk her into keeping it.”
“Dude. I hate to say this, but I’m with Sarah on this one. The last thing that girl needed was another rough pregnancy. Your boys are great, but fuck me, they’re hard work.”
“I know. I know why she did it. I understand. It’s my fault. I should’ve been more careful. I promised her I’d be careful, and then it was the last night, and we were drunk in the spa—”
“Yeah, Yeah. Spare me the details, please.”
“I just said some really shitty things to her.”
“She just tried to kill herself. You’ve every right to be fucked off with her. Man, I’m fucked off with her.”
“I called her a murdering cunt. I told her that I hated her.”
“Del. Fuck.”
We were both quiet for a while.
“Where are you now?”
“Sitting outside the hospital in my car.”
“Go back in. Go see your wife. You don’t hate her, Del. You lashed out because you’re scared. You two are bigger than this. You’ll get through it.”
“I love her so fucking much, and she wanted to leave me. How could she love me and the kids if she was prepared to just go like that?”
“Because it wasn’t about you and the kids. It was about her. Don’t switch this around and make it about you. It’s about her and what she’s been going through.”
I could hear the tremble in his voice as he continued to speak.
“I feel so fucking guilty. All of the hours you work, all of the times I could’ve taken on a little more and let you go home early to her and the boys, all of that and the fact that I didn’t see this coming. Didn’t realise that she was down enough to even contemplate something like this.”
“None of us saw it.”
“We let her down Del. We fucking let her down.”
“I know. I know that. It’s one of the reasons I’m so angry.”
He lets out a long shaky breath.
“Well now’s the time to step up and be there for her. You need to get back in there and tell her you love her.”
“I don’t know if she’s gonna want me back in there after the things I just said.”
“Only one way to find out. Don’t leave her in that hospital bed all on her own. She needs you now more than ever, and I think you need her just as much.”
The line went quiet again because I didn’t know what to say.
“Go see her. The boys are good with me. I’ll keep them as long as it’s necessary and don’t be worrying about work either.”
“Did you manage to get hold of Sasha? She needs to know, I think Sarah’s gonna need her.”
“Nah, but I’ll keep trying.”
“Okay. What d’ya tell the boys?”
“That mum and dad are having some grown-up time.”
“Cool, thanks. Give them all a kiss for me.”
“Will do.”
I ended the call, took in a few deep breaths, and made my way back up to Sarah’s hospital room. When I opened the door, Sarah was lying on her side facing away from me. She was crying quietly, so I toed off my boots and climbed into bed beside her, pulling her carefully against my chest.
I stroked her hair back from her face and kissed her temple.
“Don’t cry, pretty girl. We’ve got this. We’ll get through it together.”
She started to cry harder.
“You came back.”
“I couldn’t stay away. I’m so sorry for the things I said.”
“What did I do, Liam? What did I do?”
“You fucked up, bub. I’m not gonna pretty it up for you. You fucked up big time. I’m hurt and beyond angry, but I love you. We can work through this. I wanna make you better so that we can make us better.”
“What if I can’t get better? I’m so scared that I’ll end up just like my mum. I wanna get better, but I don’t know how.”
“I don’t think it’s something you’re gonna be able to do by yourself, bub. You’re gonna need help, and we’ll get you that help.
“I wanna be happy again. I lost myself, the girl I used to be, and I can’t find her. I want to, Liam, I really fucking do.”
“Then we’ll look together.”
“Why would you do that? Why would you want me after what I did?”
“Would you not want me back if the tables were turned?”
“Of course I would. I love you. It was never about not loving you. It’s because I love you so much that it made me think I was doing the right thing. It all seemed so right yesterday. It all made perfect sense. Today, I just feel pathetic. I’m taking up a hospital bed that somebody really sick might need.”
“Only you would think like that. You are sick. You need this bed as much as someone that’s had a heart attack. You’re sick, you need help, and we’re gonna get it for you.”
“I’m so sorry about the baby.”
“I’m sorry, too. You should’ve come to me, but I understand why you didn’t. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.”
Her sobs gave her the hiccups, and I counted between each one as we lay quietly together.
“I need to tell you something else.”
My stomach churned as I contemplated what she might be about to tell me.
“Go on . . .”
“I smacked Carter.”
“What do you mean by ‘smacked him’?”
“I slapped his leg. Just once, but it left a mark.”
Her voice broke, and she started to cry even harder. “I overslept and the kids got up and Lucas shit and the dog ate his shit out of the potty and the twins had Wotsits with sauce for breakfast and it was all over the sofa cushions because they’d pulled them all over the floor like they always do.” She finally ran out of breath and paused. When she spoke again, her words were slower. “I dragged the twins upstairs and got them washed, but when I went to make sure Carter was getting ready he was on his iPad . . .” She turned around carefully in the bed to face me. Her eyes met mine and the sadness in them was debilitating. “He did nothing wrong. It was just a bad morning, and I smacked him. I lost control, and I smacked him because he still wasn’t dressed.” She gulped in air as she cried and tried to carry on talking. “I killed their dog. I killed our baby, and I smacked Carter.”
I held on to her. “It was a bad day, bub. It was just a bad day. It happens at least once to almost every parent out there.”
She closed her eyes, and her sobs subsided. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.”
“If we’re gonna do this. If we’re gonna fight for us together, then you need to forgive me. If you throw this in my face every time we argue, I’ll never be able to move on, and I’ll never get better.
We both need to let it go.”
“I promise.” It was the only answer I could give as she cuddled closer to me and shook her head.
“What?”
“How can I think so clearly today, after being in such a fog for so long, today I can see everything differently?”
“Because you’re talking about it. It’s out in the open now. This is how it could’ve been if you’d have just opened up. Even if it wasn’t to me, you could’ve told someone.”
“Who? I don’t have anyone. Sasha never calls, Luke is always working, and I don’t have any other friends. I’m not easy to love, Liam, I’ve told you this before, people leave me.”
I hated that. I hated that she thought that about herself.
“What about the mums from school.”
“I cut myself off from them a while ago. When Carter was having his problems, they kept having parties for their kids and not inviting him. The whole class would get an invite except him.”
Anger surged through me again but this time it wasn’t aimed at Sarah, far from it.
“Jesus, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I thought it was my fault, I thought I was a bad mother. They’d have meet ups, play dates, and even girls’ nights out without the kids, but I was never invited. Then, they posted all of the photos on Facebook, knowing that I would see them. I felt so bad that he missed out and that it was my fault.”
“And these are fucking grown-ups?”
She nodded her head.
“What the fuck is wrong with these women?”
“I don’t fit their mould.”
“I’ve seen their fucking moulds, and they ain’t pretty. Who’s the one with the long dark hair, face full of Botox?”
“That’s Rowena, she’s the leader of the pack. She fucking hates me.”
“Jealous, babe, that’s all that is. You don’t need people like that in your life. We can move him out of that school if you like. Put him somewhere else before the twins start in September. We’ll send them all somewhere else, away from those fucking bitches.”
She was quite for a minute as she stared at my chest.
“How about Australia?” She looked up at me and asked.
