I wanted to work out today, but I don’t. Leah and I need to at least have one leisurely day a week together. Her morning sickness has passed for the day and we both get ready for Sunday dinner at the Crab Trap Restaurant.
Leah starts to get ready first since she takes longer than I do. She has short black hair so she doesn’t need to spend much time fixing it. She is beautiful and her short haircut matches her small petite features. When I walk into the bedroom, she is trying to zip up a pair of jeans, without success. “I swear, these fit me last week.”
“That may be, but they don’t fit you this week.”
She frowns, “I’m glad I’m pregnant, but I thought I would have some more time to wear these.”
I put on my pair of jeans and Leah looks over at me when she hears the zipper. I smile. “Whew, I’m glad mine still fit,” I say teasingly.
Leah throws a pillow at me before storming off to her walk-in closet. I finish getting dressed and she returns wearing a flowing black sundress and black sandals. She looks stunning. Leah stands more than a foot shorter than me and is well over 100 lbs. less. To say I tower over her is an understatement. I walk over to her and rest my overly large hand on her belly.
“It’s growing and this is exactly what we want.”
She smiles and rests her hand on top of mine. “You’re right, it is the most important thing.”
I look at her seriously and say, “What do you think about telling our parents about the pregnancy today?”
“We still have about three weeks to go to be considered in the safe zone.”
“I know.”
“Do you want to tell them?”
I nod. “I do. I don’t want to wait for three more weeks. I’m thrilled and I want to share our good news with them now.”
Leah smiles and says, “Me, too.”
We are the first to arrive at the restaurant and are waiting at the table before our parents come. When we see them entering the front entrance, Leah and I stand to greet them. I had just spent yesterday with our fathers and she spent yesterday with our mothers.
Once the pleasantries are finished, we talk about the poster contest at the bookstore yesterday. No one mentions the fight or the trip to D.C. We already know that no matter what the outcome of the fight is, it is still a sore subject for Leah.
“I’m not sure that glitter will come out of the carpet,” my mom says.
“What glitter?” I ask.
Leah smiles and says, “Raelynn brought some glitter to make her poster — well, actually she brought enough glitter for everyone to make their posters. Most of it came up when Emma and Molly vacuumed.”
“She sure is a sweet little thing,” Leah’s mom, Sue, says.
“Yes, she is,” Leah agrees. “I guess we’ll be reminded of Raelynn’s sweetness for a long time.”
We order our dinner and drinks and I also order a bottle of champagne. Leah reaches for my hand and holds it under the table. “Are we celebrating a successful poster-coloring contest?” my dad jokes.
I say, “No, not posters.”
Everyone looks around the table at Leah and I and smile. “Are we celebrating a win?” Tim asks.
“We could be, but, no, not a win,” Leah says.
The waitress brings the champagne and pours it into six glasses. We all take a glass, including Leah. I know she isn’t going to drink it, but she is doing this to throw them off guard. My mom frowns and says, “I thought for a second maybe it was a pregnancy announcement, but I guess I was wrong with Leah drinking.”
I smile and raise my glass. Leah squeezes my hand again and I say, “Leah and I are almost three months pregnant.” Everyone starts talking all at once and our mothers claim that they knew it yesterday when they saw Leah at the shop. We make a toast to a healthy pregnancy. Leah and I make our toast with water. Since my drug problems after Jamie’s death, I rarely drink.
We have dinner and talk about the pregnancy. Leah stresses that it’s still too early and we aren’t announcing it just yet. Everyone nods in understanding. We talk about Jamie and if the baby will look like her. We miss Jamie terribly and it feels right to talk about her, although it’s painful. Jamie was our daughter and I like it when she is remembered. We talk about her favorite stuffed animal — Jack Rabbit — and how much she loved him.
We also talk about Leah not drinking for the next several months.
“It won’t be a problem,” she says. “I have never drunk much — not since I consulted some wine books in a futile attempt to find out which wine goes best with cookie dough.”
Through the week, we call and make a doctor’s appointment for Leah at her obstetrician. Her morning sickness rears its ugly head every morning for a brief time. I train hard every day and hope that we hear something from Kennedy; we don’t. Championship fights are set up by the fighter’s managers or the place that is hosting the match. They choose or set up the fight and the opponents. Champions can’t win the title or the belt and refuse to fight to maintain it. They are obligated to fight two or three times a year.
On Friday, I follow Leah to work and help her open the shop as I do every morning.
“What would you do if you had a real job?” she asks.
“Ouch,” I say, looking hurt. “I do have a real job that pays very well. Thank you.”
She giggles. “I mean a 9 to 5 job? You wouldn’t be able to come and help me like you do.”
“That would be a problem. I’d have to quit my day job, stay at home and eat bonbons, read boxing magazines, and take you to and from work.”
“And babysit,” she adds.
“And babysit,” I agree.
Once everything is done, I kiss and hug Leah goodbye. I leave my Hummer parked in the parking lot and take off running. I run around town, stopping at the florist and then the cemetery. I talk to my baby girl as if she were sitting beside me. I tell her that she is going to be a big sister. I tell her how much we all miss and love her. Before leaving, I wipe down her tombstone and touch her name lightly with my fingertips. “I miss you, Jamie,” I say before leaving.
I meet Gus and Dad at Upper Cut for my daily workout. Thankfully, my guy is there at the gym and we get a good 12 rounds in the ring. It feels good to actually hit something that doesn’t fall down and break on the first punches. In a few weeks, I have my next fight; it is against a contender: Malcolm “The King” Smith.
I shower and have Dad drop me off at Leah’s shop.
Leah
Robert helps Bethany and me close up the shop, and he decides to leave his Hummer parked so we can ride home together. Well, I thought we were going home, but he has other things in mind.
“Where are we going?” I ask when he turns in the opposite direction of our home.
“I thought we could go shopping.”
“That’s a good idea to go grocery shopping tonight, so we won’t have to go tomorrow,” I say.
He smiles at me and says, “That is a great idea. I wish I had thought of it.”
I look at him and laugh. “If it’s not groceries we are shopping for, then what is it?”
“Clothes.”
He pulls up at the “Mommy and Me Clothing Boutique.” Maternity clothes. I like this idea. “I thought we could get you some clothes that aren’t quite so…”
“Tight?” I interrupt.
“Snug, is what I was thinking. Our baby seems to be growing a little faster than Jamie did,” he admits, putting the car into park.
I look down at my top; it is snug around my boobs and belly.
“I haven’t told Bethany I was pregnant. Do you think she suspects it?” I ask, readjusting my top so it isn’t clinging to my body.
“Sweets, if she doesn’t suspect a pregnancy, I would assume that she needs glasses.”
He laughs, and I look down at my baby bump, and I laugh, too. “I’ll tell her on Monday.”
“Good idea, come on.”
Soon, I am standing in front of Robert with a handful of clothes to try o
n. “Hold my purse and I’ll try to hurry.”
“Sorry,” he says when some papers fall out of my over-stuffed purse.
“It’s okay,” I say as I bend down to help him pick them up.
“I’ll get these while you try on your clothes.”
I try on several outfits and show Robert the ones that I like. Once I have decided on the ones I like and the ones that there is no way in hell I’ll ever wear, we go to the cash register. Robert seems quiet and I can’t be sure why. Once we are in my Tahoe, I ask, “Are you all right?”
He looks over at me and tries to smile. “I’m good, why?”
“Because you seem quiet.”
“No, I’m fine. I put the papers back in your purse that fell out earlier.”
“Thanks, I need to clean it out.”
“Your paperwork from the hospital’s still in there.”
“That along with a bunch of other stuff,” I say stuffing the overabundance of papers into my purse.
“Your blood type is B positive, right?” he asks, not pulling out of the parking lot.
“No, it’s O negative, why?”
He looks concerned and says, “They asked me your blood type in the hospital, I thought you were B positive, like Jamie.”
“Nope, I’m O negative.” I smile at him and say, “I’m glad they didn’t have to give me blood in the hospital since you had my blood type wrong.”
“Yeah, me, too. That would have been one hell of a mix-up,” he says, pulling out of the parking lot.
I call the hospital and make sure my blood type is corrected. I explain that my husband gave them incorrect information accidentally. They assure me it’s already been corrected. They said that when they draw blood, they always run the blood type and enter it into the computer. The doctor noticed the error and corrected it immediately. This is standard procedure, and it saves lives.
On the way home, I ask Robert, “Do you like the clothes I bought?”
“I do. I thought you looked beautiful in them.”
“Do you think I spent too much money on them?”
“No, not at all. Do you?” he asks, smiling over at me.
“I don’t think I realized how much maternity clothes cost.”
He looks over quickly and smiles at me. “A friend of mine opened a maternity clothing shop in a college town, in Athens, Ohio. The professors’ and doctors’ wives were good customers, but the college town was in an impoverished area and most pregnant women simply wore their boyfriends’ or husbands’ shirts. She went out of business. No, Sweets, I don’t think you spent too much money. I am happy to support a local business. I’m just hungry. Do you want to eat out or eat at home?”
“I’m tired, do you mind if we eat at home?”
“Home it is.”
We drive to the house in silence. I rest my head on the headrest in the car and when I open my eyes, we’re pulling up to the security gate.
“You’re leaving the Hummer at Jamie’s Cozy Corner tonight?”
“I thought I would. This way, we can ride home tomorrow. We can get it tomorrow if we go out.”
Once we are home, we have dinner then I soak in a hot bubble bath. Robert comes in and asks, “May I join you?”
I lean forward and wait for him to strip down and climb in behind me. Once we are situated and covered up in bubbles, I ask, “Did you have a rough day today?”
“No, not at all. I just want to be close to my girl tonight.”
Robert and I stay in the tub for a long time. I have to run more hot water to keep it from getting cold. We don’t really say much, we just lie there. I’m not sure whether he’s worried about the pregnancy. I’m grateful that he’s not fighting for a while, although the time will pass much too quickly. I worry and miss him when he’s not here. He seems like something is on his mind and I don’t know what.
“Come on, Sweets. I think I’m turning into a prune.”
I move side to side, rubbing my back again his erection. “This doesn’t feel like a shriveled-up prune to me.”
He leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Come on, Sweets. I’ve wanted to be inside you all day.”
I shiver from his tone and my nipples immediately harden. I lean forward to try to hide my excitement as he climbs out of the tub before me. I watch anxiously as he wraps a towel around his waist. I drain the water and he offers me his hand as he holds a towel for me in his other. He covers me securely before he carries me into the bedroom and lays me gently on the bed. We make love and he is so gentle with me, it’s almost like he’s afraid of hurting me.
“Good night, Leah. I love you so much,” he whispers as he holds me close.
“Good night, Ace. I love you, too.”
“Smile for the camera, Jamie,” I say.
“Wait a minute. I need Jack.”
“Here, Jamie. I have Jack,” Robert says.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
Robert sets the timer on the camera and picks up Jamie. I scoot in close and wrap my arm securely around the both of them. “One, two, three, say, ‘Cheese,’” Robert says and Jamie and I laugh.
“Can we go to the zoo now?” Jamie asks excitedly.
Jamie is fastened in her car seat and the three of us talk excitedly about the trip to the zoo. I look at Robert and scream when I see a car coming towards us from the driver’s side. We flip and skid before coming to a stop on the roof of the car.
“Mommy, Mommy, you have to wake up.” I tried so hard to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. “Mommy, Grandma’s here, I have to go.”
“Wait Jamie, don’t leave me. I love you.”
“I love you, too. I have to go with Grandma.”
“I’ll miss you. Please stay.”
“I’ll see you soon. Daddy has Jack.”
A few days after I woke up from my coma, I was introduced to the chaplain at the hospital. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Grether, but your daughter, Jamie, didn’t survive the accident.” I look at my parents and Robert’s parents like it was some cruel joke. They are all crying. Tears are streaming down their faces. I watch the chaplain and blink.
“Where is she? Where is Robert? I need to see Robert. I don’t believe you.”
“Robert left the hospital, Leah. I’m sorry. We don’t know where he is,” his dad, Walter, says.
My daughter’s dead and my husband left me. The first thing I did when I got home was close Jamie’s bedroom door. I didn’t want to see her things, I didn’t want to be reminded of what was taken from me. Next, I put the spare house key under the flower pot for Robert. I knew he would come back. I knew he was hurting and he needed time. I knew he would never stay gone. Robert loved me, and he loved Jamie.
Months passed.
“Your husband, Robert, is in the hospital from an overdose of drugs. He may not make it.”
I blink at the policeman standing there in front of me on the front porch of my home. Stop playing these cruel jokes on me. I don’t deserve this! I screamed inside my head.
“My husband is gone. My husband left me. My husband doesn’t use drugs,” I say incoherently.
“Ma’am, please come with us. We’ll take you to the hospital.”
Robert is lying there in a coma, unconscious. He’s thin, too thin. I haven’t seen him in almost a year. He doesn’t look like what I remember. My big, strong husband looks broken and weak. He left me and turned to drugs. I don’t call anyone. I sit there in a fog that I can’t escape. It swallows me and holds me hostage.
I wake up screaming and crying. Is it a dream? Is Jamie alive? Is Robert dead? Where are they? I am alone and the room is dark. I scream for Robert and for Jamie. Robert rushes into the bedroom and holds me close. I feel the warmth of his body and his fast heart beating, against my chest. “It’s all right, Sweets. It’s just a dream,” he coos. He’s here. He came back to me. I stare at the last picture that was ever taken of my family through blurry eyes. Jamie’s gone. It wasn’t a dream, it was a night terror. Robert slowly lies down with me, and I fee
l the warm wetness on my forehead from his own tears. He kisses me and cries with me.
“It’s all right, Leah, I’m here,” he says.
It’s not all right. Jamie’s gone. It will never be all right, again. I don’t say that. I don’t have to. Robert knows it will never be all right.
“I just miss her so much.”
“I know, Leah, I do, too. I miss her every waking minute of every day. I think about her all the time, but more so here lately.”
“Will we ever get past the pain?”
“I don’t know.”
We wake up the next morning and I feel the darkness pulling at me. The pain in my chest is back and I swear I can feel my heart breaking. Jamie. Robert looks sad and broken lying beside me. I get up to pee and go right back to bed. Robert doesn’t get up; we stay in bed. I am grateful it’s a weekend. I wouldn’t be able to go to work, to put on a fake smile, and pretend that everything is right in the world. After Jamie’s death, and Robert leaving me, I could function only through medication. Today, I feel like I did then, sad and broken. We don’t talk; we just lie there consumed in our grief. Jamie’s been gone almost two years and it still feels like it just happened. To lose your child actually feels like your heart is being ripped open so that your child can be buried there. I don’t expect anyone to understand our pain unless you have gone through it.
“Leah, you have to eat something.”
I wake up, feeling exhausted, and say, “I’m not hungry.”
“Please, just try to eat something,” Robert pleads.
“I’m sleepy, I just want to sleep.”
I drift off into my fog. The dark clouds are back taking me hostage.
Robert
I say on the phone, “Sue, she won’t get up and she won’t eat.”
“What happened?”
“She had a nightmare.”
“When?”
“Friday night. Can you please come over? Maybe you can help her.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Good, see you soon.”
I disconnect the call and walk up the stairs to check on Leah. It’s Sunday and she’s still in bed. I have never seen her this bad before. She has bad dreams and she gets depressed but she can usually overcome it in a few hours or even a day. I’m worried about her and the baby.
A Life Worth Fighting Page 9
