by Loretta Lost
Copyright 2014 Loretta Lost
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Eternity is a mere moment, just long enough for a joke.
- Hermen Hesse
Chapter One
Dr. Owen Phillips
Everything is the same. Always the same.
As I stand outside my apartment door with my hands glumly tucked into the pockets of my leather jacket, I wonder where my life is going. Everyone around me seems to be moving forward and accomplishing noteworthy goals, but I’m just stuck in their shadows. Always stunted. Always playing catch-up.
I know that once I walk into my apartment, I will have all the fire sucked out of me once again. Every chance of growing and changing will be stripped away as I step back in time, trapped in the little box of who I used to be. Glued to a past I can’t escape.
But I’ve just worked a ten-hour shift at the hospital, and I have nowhere else to go.
At least I had a little glimpse of something more today.
I think of her, and a bittersweet smile brightens my face. How can someone so sad be so beautiful? How can someone so wrecked be so strong? I don’t know exactly what it was about Carmen Winters. Even with the weight of the world on her shoulders, and dark shadows behind her eyes, she seemed so filled with determination to get past it all.
I wish I had half her courage.
Unlocking my door to enter my apartment, I am greeted by the sight of my girlfriend sitting on the couch and knitting a sweater while she watches television. Caroline’s habits are so familiar to me that I can determine her stress levels by watching how furiously she knits. It seems like it has only been a moderately stressful day. Even though it’s around 5 a.m., she looks flawless, as though she has just applied a fresh coat of makeup and recently brushed and styled her hair.
She looks up at me with a tranquil smile. “How was work, Owen?”
Her hazel eyes are clear and sharp. I stare at them for a moment, wondering what this wonderful woman could possibly see in me. Why has she stuck around for so many years? Why has she tolerated all my bad habits and foolish decisions? Is she just biding her time until she finds someone better? I slide my arms out of my leather jacket and toss it aside before turning back to her.
“Marry me,” I say with sudden conviction.
Caroline laughs and continues knitting. “Sure, darling. When pigs fly.”
The tender hint of a German accent in her voice is usually endearing and enchanting, but now it just seems crudely disappointing. Once, many years ago, I got down on my knees and gave her a proper proposal. The rejection had wounded me deeply then, but now it continues to drag me down every time I bring it up. I thought that if I became a better boyfriend, I could someday convince her. I thought that if I was only kinder, more attentive, made more money, made her laugh more—I thought that I could change her mind.
“Please take me seriously for a minute,” I tell her softly, moving forward to sit on the couch beside her. I take her knitting away and place it on the coffee table so I can clasp her hands. “This is important to me, Caroline. I just want you to think about it. We’ve lived together for how many years? Nothing would really change! Our families and friends would be thrilled. Let’s just do it. Let’s get married.”
“Owen, you know how I feel about marriage,” she says sharply. She pulls her hands away with a sigh, and retrieves her knitting. “It’s a useless and outdated institution. That’s just not me. I love you, and you love me. Why do we need a piece of paper for proof?”
I turn away from her to hide my frustration. Why do I keep subjecting myself to this defeat? Why do I bother? “Fine,” I tell her in a tired voice. “Then can we at least talk about having a baby?”
“What?” she says with a laugh. “A baby, Owen? Where is all of this coming from?” Caroline shakes her head in vehement refusal. “There’s no way in hell that I’m ready for kids. We’re both drowning in student loans. What on earth would make you think it’s a good time?”
“Just forget it,” I tell her sadly. “Every time I mention this, you just brush it under the rug. It was stupid of me to open my mouth.”
“Hey,” Caroline says in a soothing way. “What’s gotten into you, loverboy? Why are you so upset with me?”
I am too drained to respond, and I sluggishly rise to my feet. Moving toward our bedroom with heavy steps, I pull off my sweater as I walk. Next goes my belt, and my pants are soon to follow, leaving a trail of material carnage behind me. I feel sweaty and disgusting after long hours at work, and I am craving the respite of a cold shower.
“Owen!” Caroline shouts after me, standing up and looking nervously toward the bedroom. “Did you have a bad day? Do you want me to make you something to eat?”
I wish our apartment wasn’t so small. I just need some room to breathe, and some space to be myself and think about things. I just need to get away.
“Did something dramatic happen?” Caroline asks lightly. “Did you save some lives today? My brave, heroic doctor.”
“Well, I prescribed a lot of eye drops for conjunctivitis,” I say with a shrug. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Then why so blue, loverboy?” she asks with a small smile.
I grasp the bathroom doorknob, twisting it idly in my hand. “I just always thought we wanted the same things,” I confess.
Caroline hesitates. “I only ever wanted you, Owen. You make me happy. You make me smile.”
“But I’m getting older,” I tell her softly. “I need something to make me smile. I need something real. Something grown-up. Something that will last forever.”
“This is real,” she says, and I can see the hurt in her hazel eyes.
I hate causing her pain, and I lower my gaze. “Maybe we haven’t paid off our loans yet, but we’re both starting to make good money. We finally have some extra cash to play with after all our expenses. Isn’t this the right time to start thinking about things?”
Caroline clears her throat. “Actually, Owen… I have been thinking about things.”
I glance up at her in surprise.
She looks at me with fear in her face. “I… I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”
There is a strange tone in her voice, and I almost wonder if she’s breaking up with me. My heart sinks and my throat goes quite dry. “Carrie?” I say hoarsely.
“I need your honest opinion—and some good advice. I figured I should talk to you first, since you’re a doctor and all.” Caroline shifts nervously. “I was thinking of getting my tubes tied, Owen.”
I blink once. Twice.
“I mean, I would still like to adopt kids someday,” she says quickly. “I want to have a family with you. There are just so many orphans out there that it seems almost greedy to have our own children. Why should I ruin my own body when there are perfectly wonderful kids in need of our love and attention?”
“Ruin your body?” I repeat in shock. “Is that how you feel about this?”
“Yes,” Caroline says softly. “I’ve known women who get pregnant and become repulsive. Their men cheat on them and never look at them the same way again. Their bodies change and they lose all their sex drive. Then
they split up. I couldn’t bear it if that happened to us.”
“I am not one of those men!” I nearly shout at her. “For god’s sake, Caroline. I wanted to become a gynecologist! Why would you think I would have problems with this?”
“Maybe you don’t, Owen. But I do. For some women, it’s easy to just get pregnant and have babies. It’s as natural as breathing—they can even do it by accident! But it’s always scared the shit out of me. I can’t do it. I’m just not cut out for it. I thought that I’d get older, and one day I’d magically be ready, but I’m not. I never will be.”
“Don’t you feel the need to leave something of yourself behind in this world?” I ask her softly. “To know that you created something that will survive beyond you? Into the next generation, and the next?”
“Sure, maybe like art or something. But aren’t there enough people?”
“There are enough other people,” I inform her with a frown, “but none of them are people we made.”
“I’m sorry, Owen,” she says quietly. “I know that we shouldn’t be talking about this now, especially after you’ve had such a long day. I don’t want to fight.”
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?” I ask her angrily. “Jesus, Caroline. Sometimes I don’t even know who you are.”
“You used to love the fact that I was different,” she tells me tearfully. “Now you just want me to be like everyone else!” Her German accent grows stronger as she becomes more incensed. “I can’t do it, Owen. I am not a disgusting cow for you to breed with. I am not a farm animal!”
I stare at her in disbelief. My mouth opens, but I am afraid of saying something I’ll regret. Moving into the bathroom, I slam the door behind me and turn on the water in the sink. I grip the edges of the ceramic basin and let out a large groan of exasperation. Splashing water over my face, I stare at my sallow reflection.
There are large bags under my eyes, and I look like deep-fried shit.
I guess I can’t blame Caroline for not wanting to procreate with me. Who would want to marry a zombie and have his hideous zombie babies? Maybe I should have shaved my face and slept a little before bringing this up with her. She might have been more receptive to a future with me if I actually looked like a human being.
Discarding my boxers, I step into the shower and start the flow of water. I turn the nozzle to increase the potency of the stream, and let the powerful ice-cold current beat down on my chest. Closing my eyes, I step forward and put my head under the stream. The temperature chills me to the bone, and I begin to shiver violently. After a few minutes, I open my eyes. I find myself staring blankly at the tiny square tiles of the shower stall, through the torrents of water dripping off my nose and chin.
I hate this.
I feel so powerless. Powerless to move forward. Powerless to complete the needs of my own body and heart. Powerless over my future. Being a man is supposed to mean something—I’m supposed to be strong, and in control. Unfortunately, I can never do anything I really, truly want unless the women in my life give me permission. And they can be such fickle, fearful creatures that I worry I will forever be trapped under their thumbs. First my mother, now Caroline.
I hate this.
It takes all my strength to keep from slamming my fist into the shower walls. I don’t want to scare Caroline or betray how hopeless and depressed I feel. She has really only been good to me, and she doesn’t deserve to suffer due to my own personal discontent.
So, I think of Carmen.
Immediately, my breathing starts to relax, and my blood pressure becomes normal. I no longer feel like a stampede is racing through my head and pounding against my skull. My heightened testosterone and aggression fades. I have never been the type of man to get foolishly fixated on the grass being greener on the other side, but I can’t help remembering everything about Carmen with absolute clarity. The perfect shape of her porcelain cheeks, and her piercing green eyes. The gentle curve of her beautiful belly. I could see that she was afraid, but she didn’t let it slow her down.
She tried. She didn’t let fear get in the way of living.
Of course, coming from a wealthy family like hers, Carmen probably never had financial struggles the way that we do. Nevertheless, considering the man she was married to, I know that her emotional struggles were every bit as great as ours. Now, she’s all alone, and she is still somehow managing to find the strength.
I wish I could be with her now.
The night I spent holding her in my arms was earth-shattering for me. For several hours, I couldn’t sleep. I could only stare at her with awe and reverence, drinking in her graceful silhouette in the dim lighting of the motel room. I could only cling to the moment, and desperately treasure the perfect feeling of her body nestled against mine. I have never needed a woman as much as I needed Carmen. I have never admired a woman as much as I admired her.
I’m not even sure why.
This isn’t like me, to fantasize about anyone other than Caroline. I hate that I’m being this way. I’ve always prided myself on being completely and unquestionably faithful. Unfortunately, at the moment, Caroline feels like merely a heartless roadblock in my path, while Carmen is an open gateway to a place I’ve always wanted to go, but could never quite find a way to reach.
Try as I might, I can’t help thinking about her open gateway.
A loud banging sound alerts me, and I realize Caroline must be knocking on the bathroom door. I am not quite sure how long I have been standing in the shower, letting the cold water inundate me. All I know is that I am shivering violently, and my joints are starting to feel numb and locked solid, like bricks of ice. I am more than a little peeved to have my frigid solitude interrupted, so I slowly turn the water off and glare at the door as I exit the shower stall.
Very slowly, I collect my towel to dry off my dripping hair and face. I am not looking forward to another confrontation with Caroline, and I’d like to stall for as long as possible. I take my time in wrapping the cotton towel around my hips before moving at a snail’s pace to turn the bathroom doorknob. I am surprised to see Caroline standing a few feet away with my phone against her ear.
“Is there an important reason you’re calling him at 5 a.m.?” Caroline is saying snappishly as she paces back and forth across our bedroom. She waits for an answer for a moment before rolling her eyes. “Hello? Hello!”
“Who is that?” I ask her with concern. “Is it work?”
“No,” she says with annoyance, thrusting the phone toward me. “It was some chick asking for you.”
My heart leaps into my throat as I swiftly reach out to grab the phone from her hands. Could it be Carmen? I told her to call me at any time, day or night. I don’t recognize the number on my phone, but I notice that Caroline hasn’t hung up yet.
“Hello?” I say into the phone. “Carmen, is that you?”
There isn’t any answer, and my worry grows. I feel guilty for leaving her alone in that giant house. Her father did ask me to take care of her. What if someone broke in? What if she couldn’t cope with the loss of her husband and she hurt herself? A dozen frantic and irrational thoughts dance through my mind.
“Carmen?” I repeat loudly. “Are you there?”
“What’s going on?” Caroline asks me. “Is it a patient of yours?”
“No,” I tell her, hanging up the phone and moving to open up the dresser drawers. I pull out a fresh pair of boxers and tug them on quickly, letting my towel slide to the ground. I follow this with a pair of slacks and an old sweater. I shove my phone into my pocket and quickly grab my wallet out of my old pair of pants as I head for the door.
“You’re just going to leave your clothes lying around everywhere?” Caroline asks me bitterly.
“I’m sorry, Carrie. I’ll tidy up when I get back.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks me with a frightened tone in her voice. “Who’s Carmen?”
“Winter’s sister,” I say as I pull my leather jacket on again. “I don’t
know what’s going on, but I have a bad feeling.”
“Owen, you’re scaring me,” Caroline says softly. “I know you said that Winter was in a car accident, but why would her sister be calling you? Wait—is she the one who married that crazy man? The man who shot Liam?”
“Her husband just committed suicide,” I inform Caroline. I open up the closet to grab a scarf, but my hand hesitates as I decide between black and red. I know that it is necessary for me to choose something that will cheer Carmen up. The rest of my clothes look like crap, so this will be my only attempt to make her smile.
Finally, I reach out to Caroline’s side of the closet and select her yellow scarf that is covered with little baby ducks. I wrap it around my neck with determination.
“Good grief, Owen,” Caroline says with an little laugh. “Are you stealing one of my scarves again?”
“Don’t I look dashing?” I ask her, modeling it briefly.
“Things must be really bad if you’re bringing the baby ducks,” she says softly.
“Yes,” I tell her as I leave our apartment. I am already walking away before I realize that I can’t just leave Caroline in this state. Mustering all of my strength, I turn back to her with a forced smile. “I truly believe there is no problem on this planet that cannot be resolved with the cuteness of baby ducks.”
Chapter Two
My fingers grip the steering wheel tightly as I turn onto Carmen’s street. For once, I am not distracted into daydreams by the gargantuan mansions lining each side of the road. Instead, I am immediately panicked by the ominous flashing lights of an ambulance. My foot lifts off the gas pedal in shock, and my car slowly coasts forward toward the chaos.
Is it a crime scene? I should never have left her alone. A wealthy neighborhood like this is sure to be targeted by greedy thugs looking to make a quick buck.
Or could it be something worse? I gulp down a lump of fear and drive forward until my car comes to a rest at the curb. I rip the key out of the ignition and fumble madly with my seatbelt until I am liberated. Pushing the car door open, I leap out and rush toward the ambulance. I get there just in time to see Carmen lying unconscious on a stretcher as she is carried into the back of the ambulance. Her face looks pale and ashen, except for a few streaks of blood staining her cheeks. I am too stunned to do or say anything before the vehicle’s doors slam shut in my face.
