by Loretta Lost
“I don’t know. I suppose not.”
“This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.” I find myself taking several quick, shallow breaths. “I just lost Grayson—you can’t expect me to believe that my life could possibly get worse. Brad, please. Tell me it isn’t true. I can’t have everything good taken from me all at once.”
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and his face is lowered in sadness and guilt. “I don’t know what to say, Carm. I should have stayed with you last night, like you asked. Maybe I could have gotten you to the hospital sooner…”
Turning away from him, I clutch the blanket against my chest.
“I wanted to be with you, Carm. I did. I just didn’t want to risk missing work—but I should have stayed with you, because I ended up canceling on work anyway when I woke up and got your voicemail. I was so afraid. Why didn’t you tell me you were in pain? Why didn’t you tell me something was wrong? Is it something I did?”
“No. I didn’t know it was this serious,” I admit softly, unable to look him in the eye. I try to recall the events that led up to me ending up in the hospital. I remember having sex with Brad the night before, but it hadn’t caused me any pain. I remember him actually being rather sweet before he left, and even tucking me in with a cup of chamomile tea. I remember lying awake for hours with my mind racing. “I had a little bit of pain now and then—some mild cramps—but it wasn’t that much. I had no idea it was this bad. I had no idea…” I have to stop talking and bite my lip in order to fight away my tears.
I am startled when I feel the flimsy bed moving slightly, and I turn to see Brad climbing up onto the cot to lie beside me. He gathers me up in his arms and holds me against his chest.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what you’re going through.”
“You brought me the flowers?” I ask dazedly, allowing him to hold me. I rest my head against his chest, enjoying the closeness. I needed someone, anyone and I am just glad that Brad is here. “How did you know that blue roses were my favorite?”
Brad hesitates. “I think I remember Grayson mentioning it a while ago,” he says finally. “I just wanted you to know that I care.”
“And this?” I say, showing him the fabric with the ducklings. “This was supposed to be for Grace? You thought she’d be okay?”
“Grace?” he says in confusion.
“That’s what I was going to call my daughter. I was going to name her after her dad, sort of.” My mind drifts to Owen, who had been clever enough to find the perfect name. It breaks my heart a little that he didn’t receive my call, and couldn’t be here. I’m not sure why, but I wanted to see him so desperately, more than anyone else. But he simply isn’t mine. He belongs to another woman.
The last thing I remember, before the drugs, sirens, and flashing lights, is being in a state of distress and panic. I was drowning in pain and blood. I remember calling Owen and being rudely rebuffed by his girlfriend. It was humiliating, but I don’t regret making the phone call. At least I tried. At least now, I know who truly cares about me. I know who’s going to be there.
I’ll never call Owen again. I’ll block his number and remove it from my phone so I’m not tempted. Before last night, I never would have thought I could be desperate enough to call a man who was in a relationship with someone else to ask for help. But I didn’t call him only because I was desperate, did I? I called him because I thought my excruciating, exploding pain and anguish would be a good excuse to see him again. I just wanted to see his face, and feel that lighthearted feeling I had when he was close to me. I knew that if I could only see him smile, and let him hold my hand tightly in his, I would somehow feel better.
Classic Carmen. Classic stupid, brainless Carmen.
I need to appreciate what I have. I’m not a Disney princess, and I won’t be ending up with a heroic prince. This isn’t a fairytale. This is rotten, disgusting real life, where everything good crumbles and burns down into ashes. I need to treasure every bit of kindness I can find, for it is the rarest commodity on the planet. Brad might not be perfect—he might be a little bit of a pompous ass—but at least he’s here.
That’s all I really need right now. I just need someone to be here.
I don’t care how pathetic that makes me.
Clinging to Brad’s body, I bury my face in his chest. “When can I leave this god-awful place? I want to go home.”
“They said that you should recover fairly quickly now. You could go home in a few hours, if you want. The doctor just needs to check you out a little more and make sure that you’re okay.”
I nod as I snuggle into the crook of his arm. “Have you spoken to my dad or sister?”
“I called your dad a few times, but I haven’t been able to get a hold of him,” Brad explains as he lightly brushes his fingers over my hair. “I will keep trying to get in touch with him.”
“No,” I tell him swiftly, pressing my hand against his arm. The feeling of his muscles under my tired fingers is reassuring and strengthening. I almost feel like I could absorb some of his strength from merely being close to him. “It’s better that my dad doesn’t know, at least for now. He’s not well. It’s enough that he’s dealing with my sister’s accident, and taking care of her. It would crush him to hear that he’s not going to be a grandpa anymore.”
This thought hurts me a little more than I expected, and I have to hold my breath and shut my eyes to keep from bursting into sobs again in front of Brad. The effort it takes to keep from crying causes me to tremble a little, and I press my hand against Brad’s chest to steady myself. I am not surprised that the woolen fabric of his suit is exquisite.
“I got you a present, Carm,” he says quietly, reaching into the pocket on the inside of his stylish blazer. He pulls out a small jewelry box, and for a moment, I am terrified that it might be a ring. When he pops it open and pulls out a necklace, I breathe a sigh of relief. He holds it up and lets the pendant swivel on the chain. “I didn’t know if you liked gold or silver, so I got you platinum. I hope that it’s okay.”
I stare at the heart-shaped locket as it dangles and spins a few inches away from my face. “It’s beautiful,” I tell him honestly, with a sad smile. “But you really didn’t have to.”
“Actually, I did,” he informs me, reaching out to flip the locket open. On the inside, there is a tiny photo of me and Grayson from our wedding. The photo causes shooting pain within my chest; rather similar to being stabbed with an ice pick. We look so happy. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever feel that happy again. But I notice that on the other side of the locket, there is what appears to be a bit of dirt or sand. “What’s that?” I ask curiously.
“Grayson was cremated this morning,” Brad tells me softly. “Even though his will stipulates that the ashes should go to his mother, I figured I would save a little for you. This way, you can carry a little piece of him everywhere you go.
Tears sting my dry, aching eyes. I blink, knowing that they are surely red and bloodshot. “Brad,” I whisper in surprise. This man had always seemed so stiff and heartless to me, with a perpetual look of apathy on his face and complete lack of emotion in his voice. It must just be a lawyer-thing. He must be so used to needing to act a certain way at work that it translates to every area of his life. Or maybe, he’s just scared of showing any kind of emotion. I remember the stories he told me about the difficult way that he and Grayson grew up. “This means a lot to me,” I tell him honestly, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. “It’s perfect. Could you put it on me?”
“Sure,” he says with softness in his eyes. I can see that he really placed a lot of thought into getting this gift. I can tell it means just as much to him to give the necklace to me as it does for me to receive it.
Brad sweeps my blonde hair off my neck and shoulders, and I realize that it has grown a bit frizzy and unkempt. It must have gotten moist from my sweat earlier, back when I was in excruciating pain. I usually never let mysel
f get this frazzled. I know there is an unspoken rule where pictures of new moms holding their babies in the hospital must look hideous; it must look like the woman has just survived navigating through a minefield, fighting enemy combatants, and running a 40K marathon. I always imagined that I would be the sole exception to the rule. I thought I could manage to be well-put-together and attractive even during this kind of duress. I always imagined that I’d be able to show my children pictures someday, and impress them with how lovely and happy I looked, holding them for the first time and smiling brightly for the camera. Of course, I also wanted the perfect photo for Facebook and my blog.
Unfortunately, I am missing all the elements required for that photograph. Even if I did manage to get some makeup on and look half-decent, there isn’t a crying infant for me to hold. I never thought that I’d give birth to a child who couldn’t survive more than a few hours. I guess I’m even more of a failure than I thought I was.
These miserable thoughts cause my heart to race, and the heavy pounding in my chest alarms me. I feel like my whole chest is thumping under the violent pulses of my erratic heart, and I can even hear it in my ears, drowning out all other sounds. Brad has secured the necklace around my neck, and it now falls against the cotton hospital gown I am wearing. My hand reaches up to clasp the gorgeous pendant in my hand, and the weight of it, along with the lovely craftsmanship, actually provides a small bit of solace. It helps to ground me, and makes my heartache subside.
I don’t know how I am even able to appreciate the jewelry in this moment. I guess it’s true: there simply isn’t any situation in the world that good jewelry can’t make better. I suppose that if I were starving in the desert, and in desperate need of food and water, having a fancy necklace would be worthless. However, all I would have to do is walk to civilization, and my fancy necklace could be traded for all the food, water, and hospitality that I needed. I don’t know why I’m rationalizing all this in such a bizarre way. I feel like my mind is racing in strange directions more than usual.
The gift is meaningful to me, and I shouldn’t feel guilty or shallow for placing value on it. It also really helps that Brad brought me the flowers, teddy bear, and this silly little blanket. Those items are not exorbitant or flashy, and they can only mean that he truly cares. I am not sure why all these gifts are so meaningful to me, but I feel like I was so emotionally starved that they are the only water in the desert. I am thirstily drinking it all up; my survival depends on it. I just needed to know that someone cared, and Brad is giving me that. I shouldn’t cheapen it by focusing on the physical evidence to support that fact, but it’s all I really have.
Supposedly, my husband cared about me. But the physical evidence of his dead body would suggest otherwise. I think that from now on, I will try to focus on the facts, and only acknowledge that which I can see and touch. My decision-making and judgment of other people has always been sorely lacking, but I know that I need to change this. Now more than ever.
If I don’t start seeing people for who they really are, I will never be happy. I will never be safe.
Sighing, I try to encircle Brad with my arms to give him a hug. “I’m really thankful that you’re here,” I tell him softly.
“I would never leave you alone to deal with something like this, Carmen. You should know me better than that. I’m not like Grayson. I don’t abandon the people that I care about.”
Shifting suspiciously in his arms, I study his dark eyes. “And why do you care about me, Brad? You barely know me.”
“No,” he says quietly. “That’s not true. You barely know me because you weren’t paying attention to anyone other than Grayson over the years. But I was always paying attention to you, Carm. I wanted to know the woman that my best friend wanted to spend the rest of his life with. Grayson didn’t love easily, and I knew that if he had chosen you, there must be something truly special about you.”
A bittersweet smile touches my lips. I feel the urge to make a snarky, cruel comment about how Grayson actually saw something special in my sister, and how I was just collateral damage and a backup plan, but I don’t want to ruin the moment with my bad attitude. Not right now. Not when I finally have some peace, after hours of fear and anguish.
I force myself to breathe deeply. The stuffy hospital air fills my lungs, and it’s unsatisfying. I am somehow filled with the need to be outside, and feel the sunshine on my skin. I want to breathe the clean fresh air of nature. I suddenly understand my sister’s constant need to get away. After everything that has happened, I just want to be far away from people. I feel like none of them could possibly understand me, and that they will all look at me with pity. Helen probably felt that way her whole life, due to her blindness. But once she was raped, it must have become unbearable. She must have been so devastated and distraught.
But I’m not broken. I may have lost my baby, and my husband, but I still have my own life. I’m grateful for that. Someday, when I’m mentally ready again, I will have another baby, and she will be nurtured in an environment that is both physically and emotionally healthy. Meaning that I will become a healthier environment, and I will give her all the love and strength that I failed to give her sister. I might have failed my first child, but I won’t fail another. I think I was a little in over my head with this pregnancy. I never knew how hard it would be. I never knew how much strength it would take.
Next time, I’ll be ready.
“Can you get a doctor for me, Brad?” I ask him softly. “I want to get the hell out of this place.”
“Sure thing,” he says, placing a small kiss on my lips. He smiles down at me with devotion. “Whatever you need, Carm. I want you to know that from now on, you can depend on me. Just ask, and I’ll do whatever it takes to help you.”
I stare after his retreating form, fingering my necklace thoughtfully. Maybe things aren’t quite so bad. Turning slightly so that I can gaze at my roses, a peaceful smile overtakes my face. I don’t know what it is about the shape and color of these flowers that makes my heart soar with appreciation. I know that blue is not a natural color for roses, but that just makes it more special and rare to me. I don’t feel like the color is artificial; I feel like it’s defiant.
Even though nature placed rules on the way a rose should be, we found a way around it. We took something perfect and improved on perfection. We took something created naturally beautiful, and we found a way to create something new and even more beautiful from it. I don’t think there can be any art that doesn’t build upon previous art, or any life that doesn’t build upon previous life.
My hand drifts down to my stomach sorrowfully, but with acceptance. Maybe this was meant to happen. Maybe it just wasn’t my time. Maybe this terrible thing has only happened so that something even better can happen next time.
Maybe my daughter’s soul is safe with her father, somewhere in the great unknowable beyond.
I might have lost everything, but at the very least, I have my roses.
Chapter Seven
When I hear the door open, I realize I had briefly drifted off to sleep again. I am surprised to see a woman standing there instead of Brad, and once I recognize her, I become very conscious of how terrible I look. Sitting up, I try to futilely comb my fingers through my hair as I send her a weak smile.
“Lauren,” I say quickly, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come…”
“Sweetie! How dare you apologize?” she exclaims as she approaches the bed to throw her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug.
I am plunged into a cloud of pungent perfume that feels like a sharp, synthetic spike to the brain. I endure her hug and cough softly in an attempt to rid my lungs of the suffocating fragrance. The act of coughing just makes my stomach hurt and threatens me with a bout of nausea. Unable to do anything else, I lie back against my pillow weakly.
“This is my fault,” Lauren says, shaking her head unhappily. “I put so much pressure on you to come into the station on such short notice. I have been kicking myse
lf all morning, doll. I knew there was something wrong when you didn’t show up.”
“No,” I tell her firmly, grasping her hand to squeeze it. “I’ve been going through a lot lately, Laurie. My husband just died, and my sister is…”
“Oh, no! You poor girl. Why on earth would you agree to come in to work?”
“Because I desperately wanted to. I needed this, Laurie. I needed to do something to take my mind off things. I was going crazy. But my body wouldn’t cooperate, and now I’ve blown the opportunity.”
“Nonsense,” Lauren says with a firm nod. “We will always have opportunities for you on the air with us, doll. You’re one of a kind. The female body is a pile of steaming shit, and pregnancy is the cherry on top. Nothing we can do about that. Once you get better, you give me a ring, and we’ll see what we can’t do about getting that pretty face of yours back in front of a camera.”
I smile sadly at this comment. “I know I look like shit right now, Laurie. But thanks.”
“Honey, you couldn’t stop looking like a superstar if you tried,” she assures me, leaning forward to place a big smacking kiss on my cheek. “Now, I’ve got to run, but you give me a call, darling. I’ll hook you up, I promise.”
“Thank you, Laurie.”
As she exits, I see Brad and the doctor returning to my room. I vaguely remember the male doctor’s face from earlier, but I was too dazed from the drugs to remember his name. I remember him helping with the agonizing labor, and even the memory gives me a shudder of horror. Initially, I had thought that since my massively premature baby was so much smaller than a baby born after a full nine months, it would be a much easier birth than all the terrible scenes in TV shows and movie. It was not so. It was a hundred times worse. I thought I was going to die. My body was not ready for this, and neither was I.
“It’s nice to see that you’re awake, Miss Winters,” the doctor says to me as he approaches the bed. “You were a champion earlier. Preterm birth is never an easy thing, and you handled it as well as anyone can be expected to deal with such a frightening situation.”
