by Yessi Smith
Anxiety continues to increase the pressure in my chest until I can no longer take it. I stand up and try to push by the security guard, but he guides me back to my seat on the bus.
“No. No, damnit! I have to get to him.” I don’t bother trying to stand up to leave again, but put my head in my hands and hold myself as I sob uncontrollably.
“He’s gonna be fine,” the security guard says from his post by the door. I look up at him, but he looks away, making his words of comfort an obvious lie.
He doesn’t think Josh is going to be fine. He’s thinking the worst. But that’s the lie. Josh will be okay. The world wouldn’t strike him down and erase him from existence. Life isn’t that cruel to strip me of the only happiness I’ve ever felt.
Calmer, I sit myself up on the sofa and refuse to make eye contact with anyone. The other members of Wasted Circle are on the bus with us, and their presence weighs on my shoulders. I lean my body back and stare at my fingers while I wait.
I wait for eternity, and the waiting and not knowing terrifies me. My stomach clenches at the what if’s, so I force myself to think about anything else. The security guard hasn’t taken his eyes off of me, but the other members have created their own stupid little game with balled up paper and plastic cups, and the sight of them and their indifference disgusts me. I sigh heavily and squeeze my hands together harder, trying to reassure myself of what I have already convinced myself. Josh is fine, they just need to find him so I can see him to make my thoughts a reality.
The door to the bus opens abruptly and a dirty disheveled Adam storms in. “We found him. He’s not—”
I don’t bother waiting to hear what he has to say as I push past him, not knowing where I’m going. Adam takes my hand, and together we run towards the ambulances. I notice Adam guides me towards an ambulance with its lights turned on already inching forward. I hit the hood of the car hard to get the driver’s attention as I shout Josh’s name through the windshield.
A woman jumps out, but I can’t hear what she is telling me. “Josh?” I ask, and she looks at Adam questioningly. “Is he in there?” I can’t control the tears as they stream down my face, and thankfully she takes pity on me.
“He’s unconscious, and his heart rate is slow,” she tells us, and I hiss out a breath.
“Can we ride with you? Please,” I plead.
She instructs her coworkers to open the back of the ambulance so we can climb in with them, and I am unprepared for what I see. It’s Josh, but his face is so pale, with only splashes of color from the blood from the various cuts all over him. I put my hands on his face and kiss him gently on his lips so I don’t hurt him further. Adam stands beside me until we are instructed to sit for the ride to the hospital. I hold on to Josh, and for the first time in my life, I pray. I pray to a God I’m not sure exists or even cares about me.
“We’re here with you, brother,” I hear Adam say as he holds onto Josh’s hand with me. “Your fiancé, baby and I. We’re all here.”
I sniffle back the tears welling up in the back of my throat and squeeze Josh’s hand as I lean forward. “You gotta be strong, babe. The doctors will fix you up.”
Suddenly the monitor Josh is hooked up to starts beeping, and Adam and I are pushed to the side as the EMTs work on Josh. I watch them work feverishly to save him, and I scream at them to continue when they look at each other, ready to admit defeat.
“He’s not gone! He’s not dead!” I yell at them as my body shakes in terror. He can’t be gone. He can’t be dead. “He wants to live,” I beg them.
Adam holds me tightly to his chest as I listen to a stranger whose voice will forever be embedded in my brain pronounce him dead.
Adam
There’s a special place in hell for people like me – the cursed.
I couldn’t save Josh any more than I could have saved anyone at six, but they all died by my hands. It doesn’t matter that I didn’t want them to die; that’s the true cruelty of my curse – it doesn’t matter what I want. They die anyway. Life just keeps on going, not giving a damn about the pain she’s left in the wake of her destruction.
I looked for Josh for hours. I called for him. When I found him and his eyes met mine, I thought I had done it. I had saved my best friend, the brother life had cheated me out of. But he knew better, and when he held onto my hand he made me promise I’d take care of Dee and their baby.
I had nodded my head, but I would have agreed to give my life if he had asked me to. So long as he lived, not just for me, but for Dee too. Dee needed him, not me. Just like my mom had needed my dad. I couldn’t take care of my mom or my unborn brother. And now like some cryptic déjà vu, I was supposed to take care of Josh’s girl and their unborn baby.
Six years old
I don’t wake up in my bed, but I’m on a bed which is better than the floor where Dad was bleeding. It was just a nightmare. A really bad nightmare.
I move the covers off me so I can go find Mom and Dad; they’ll let me sleep with them until morning and make the nightmare better. I suddenly see the needle in my arm and start to cry. I hate shots.
I scream for Mom and Dad because I’m too scared to move. I don’t want to make the shot in my arm start to hurt. A lady who isn’t Mom comes in and tells me to stop screaming, and I listen because Mom told me to always mind my manners.
I sniffle at her when she puts her arms around me, but I don’t like the way she smells and I pull away. She doesn’t smell bad or anything, but she doesn’t smell like Mom, and I really want Mom right now.
“Where’s my mom?” I ask her, looking at her through wet eye lashes.
She wipes the tears off my cheek and sighs. “Your mama’s having some trouble with the baby.”
I smile back at her and my heart beats hard in my chest, because I can’t wait to meet Tommy. “Is Tommy born yet?”
“Not yet, baby.”
“Soon? I get to carry him soon?”
The nurse looks back at me and she almost looks sad, but she doesn’t answer my question. Instead she tucks the covers tightly around me the way Dad does, only he does it better. No one knows how to tuck me in like him. He says it’s one of his superpowers.
Life has once again shown me just how cruel she can be. She dangled happiness in front of me, close enough that I could almost reach it, but the evil bitch snapped it away from me just as quickly. Leaving me drained.
I called my parents the night of Josh’s death, and I wasn’t even disappointed when they didn’t take the first flight out of Paris to be with me. Because what parent in their right mind would leave their vacation just to console their grieving daughter? Ludicrous, I know. But they did call their attorney, who purchased and furnished a two bedroom condo for their pregnant daughter. See how lucky I am?
I spend my days locked in my bedroom. The light hurts my eyes so I keep my room dark. I only answer my phone when I see it’s Adam calling, but even he has run out of words of comfort. It’ll only be a matter of time until Adam goes on tour and drowns himself in concerts, making Josh and me nothing but a bad memory. I have nothing to drown myself into. My life revolved around Josh, and now he’s gone…
It’s been three days since Josh’s accident. Three days; it feels like an eternity. My heart continues to beat despite my desire for it to stop. I involuntarily take each breath because my body won’t allow me to do otherwise. I am nothing but an empty space of despair. That is what I have succumbed to, what my life has become since Josh left me.
He swore on his unborn child he’d take care of me and our baby. His promise is as empty as my soul. I don’t even care that I’m carrying his child. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
I hear my door click open and try to pretend I’m asleep so Adam will leave me alone. I feel the side of my bed go down when Adam sits, and I start to cry when he rubs my back.
“I got you something to eat,” he tells me, but I shake my head at him. “You have to eat, Dee. Think about the baby.”
I sit
up, angry at him, at myself, at the baby, at everyone. “The baby? You think I want the baby after…” I don’t continue, because we already know what happens after.
“Then eat for me.” He puts a grilled cheese sandwich on my lap and my stomach revolts.
I see his pain as clear on his face as it is in my heart, and I take a bite out of the sandwich he made me to ease some of his heartache. He watches me eat and sip the juice he brought me, and it isn’t until he gets up that I realize he is wearing a black suit. His long hair is gelled back and his eyes are red and swollen.
Josh’s funeral was today. I knew that, but I pretended not to. I didn’t want to be surrounded by people who barely knew him. I didn’t want to exchange meaningless hugs. I didn’t want to hear what a hero he was. I didn’t want to say goodbye.
Josh was a hero, just not in the same sense the media is portraying him as. He didn’t get off the stage to save his fans. He went down to save me. That fact makes everything so much worse. How can I live knowing he died trying to save me?
There are five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. It looks as though I have bypassed all the stages and plummeted myself straight into depression. And guilt. They left that off the list.
There’s no denial, he died in front of me. I watched as his soul left his body, making my own soul hurt for the rest of eternity. Anger and bargaining? Who would I be angry with or bargain with? Surely not the God who refused to listen to the only thing I’ve ever asked for. I accept that he’s gone and the inevitable pain that comes with it.
Depression brings its own comfort. At least it’s not foreign territory, and I already know what to expect. It’s almost like reuniting with an old friend I haven’t seen in years. She embraces me and keeps me company when I shut out the rest of the world.
After putting my plate and cup away, Adam comes back and sits on my bed. “I’m gonna move in with you.”
I shrug my shoulders, a slight lift and drop before I turn away from him.
“I’m gonna make you an appointment to see a gyno. You want a female doctor?”
I close my eyes and shut him out, only opening them when I hear my bedroom door shut. I am reassured by the thought that Adam will eventually leave me be to live out my life in this abyss. Even sweet and sturdy Adam has limits.
Fourteen days after my conversation with Adam, I dress for the doctor’s appointment in yoga pants and a t-shirt big enough to hide the tiny bulge in my stomach. I pull my hair up in a wet, messy bun, and the sweet smell of my shampoo makes me want to curl back in bed again. But Adam has been very strict about getting me out of bed and eating. I hate him for it. After my shower, I had hopped into the bathtub to shave my legs and hoo-ha area so my doctor wouldn’t be embarrassed by the state I had let it get to. The growth after seventeen days of leaving it untended is ridiculous.
That’s how long it’s been. It’s been seventeen days since I lost Josh. Adam has postponed his tour to stay with me, and I know I should feel guilty. This was Josh and Adam’s dream, and I’m single-handedly destroying it.
The doctor’s office is full of round bellies and eager faces. I watch their faces and try to mirror their smiles so I too can bounce around and be a happy, expectant mom. I smile politely at the nurse when she calls my name and take hold of Adam’s hand to follow me into the patient room. I don’t care how uncomfortable he is, he’s not leaving me. I don’t even let him leave the room when I undress to put on the blue paper patient dress.
“That’s a good look for you,” he jokes once he turns around and sees me in all my paper-material glory.
“You missed the real show.” I wink at him and feel my lips twitch when he blushes.
He sits down on the patient bed next to me and I lean my head on his shoulder. I’m grateful he hasn’t reached his limit with me yet.
“Thanks for doing this.”
He puts my hand in his and entwines his fingers with mine. “Anytime.”
“When are you going on tour?” I ask and watch him blink uncertainly.
“I hadn’t really thought of it.”
“But you are going?” I want him to go because I don’t want to hold him back, but I’m terrified of losing my last strain of sanity if he goes.
“Yeah.” He runs his free hand through his hair before scratching his chin. “The guys have been hasslin’ me about going out. I just—”
“You should go,” I cut him off firmly, but I don’t dare look at him so my face won’t reveal how I truly feel.
“Dee…”
“Don’t Dee me. I’m fine.”
His sigh lets me know just how much he believes me. I’m fine, ha! Yeah, I’m also a horrible liar. Maybe if I start walking he’ll believe me. The beach, no definitely not the beach, I think as my spine stiffens and my breathing accelerates.
Adam looks at me, his eyebrows raised, but I shake my head at him and lean against his shoulder. He hums quietly next to me and I close my eyes as we both lose ourselves in our own thoughts.
“Deeana Acosta?” my doctor asks when she walks through the door, and I extend my hand for a quick shake. “I’m Dr. Armas. And you must be dad.” She looks at Adam expectantly and he shakes her hand without saying a word.
I understand his silence. I can’t speak about what happened to the real dad either.
After going over the nuisances of establishing a new patient/doctor relationship, Dr. Armas squeezes a warm jelly onto my stomach, and within seconds of her starting the ultrasound I hear a fast-paced bump bump bump. I look back at her, my eyes wide, but she smiles back reassuringly.
“That’s your baby’s heartbeat.”
My baby’s heartbeat. I should feel joy. I look for it, but come back empty of anything except sadness. Adam wipes a stray tear from my cheek and kisses me lightly where it had trailed.
I watch as she takes pictures and measures with the transducer. I distantly listen to the heartbeat, but my thoughts are elsewhere, causing me to startle when Dr. Armas suddenly talks.
“Congratulations! You are just over eleven weeks pregnant,” Dr. Armas continues to speak, but I’m no longer listening to her.
I don’t want to be a mom. I don’t want this baby. I don’t want this life. I smile back at her, watching her lips move while Adam laughs at whatever she is saying. I want to laugh with them, to feel normal, but this little excursion has left me exhausted, and what I really want is to go back to bed and sleep.
“Do you have any questions?” Dr. Armas asks me.
“No. Yes.” I look back at Adam shyly and sigh. “My nipples are cracking.” From my peripheral vision, I can see Adam’s cheeks redden and I hide a grin.
“Let’s have a look.” Dr. Armas pulls my gown open and Adam looks away when she touches my nipple. “It’s normal,” she says, and I close my gown tightly to my chest. “You need to get nipple butter,” she pauses when Adam coughs, “or they’ll end up pretty painful.”
“Nipple butter.” I nod my head, trying really hard not to laugh at Adam’s discomfort.
“You can get it at any grocery store.”
“Right. Thanks,” Adam says, clearly ready to get out of here.
I look back at him when Dr. Armas leaves and I feel my face break out into a grin. An actual grin.
I walk to the car feeling a bit better than I had when we first arrived, but tired. Really tired. Adam squeezes my hand once before he opens the door for me and walks around to the driver’s side.
“Let’s go baby shopping,” Adam offers once we’re in the car.
I don’t know if he’s genuinely excited about the baby or just pretending for me. I reach for his hand and squeeze, feeling the little bit of happiness I felt evaporate, and he sighs. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Dee, sweetie, you can’t keep on like this. This isn’t a life.”
“You’re right.” I nod sadly at him. “My life ended with Josh.”
“You have a baby to think about.”
“I don’t
want the baby!” I yell at him. “Don’t you get it? I don’t want the baby. I don’t want you lookin’ after me. I don’t want any of this!”
“Yeah, well, this is what you got,” he whispers.
I fold my arms around my stomach defiantly and stare out the window, neither acknowledging him or the tears I can no longer hold back. I don’t want Josh’s baby, and it is the only piece of him that I have left. What the hell is wrong with me that I’m not cherishing it?
I open my car door as soon as Adam reaches our building and run away from him, from myself, as my tears continue to spill, blinding me as I make it up to my condo. I reach my room and close my shades before I curl up under my covers and cry myself to sleep.
I wake up with a migraine and reach for my pills, swallowing them dry. I follow the sound that woke me and find Adam putting together a crib. I bite my lip to stop the tears and the angry words running wild in my mind as I walk to him. This is what Josh would have wanted. He loved our baby possibly more than I could, and he’d want our baby to have a home and family. He’d want me to take care of our baby the way he intended to.
I run my hand over the wooden frame and force my lips to smile. “It’s beautiful.”
Adam smiles back at me, surprised at my reaction. “I bought some diapers and wipes. I wanted to get clothes and bibs, but we don’t know if it’s a boy or girl yet.”
“This is perfect, Adam. Thank you.” I walk to him and hug him, which he is apprehensive to return. “I’m a mess. I know I am, but I’m gonna try. For my baby.”
“I know it’s hard, sweetie. I miss him too. Every damn day I miss him.” He looks so sad, and I hate seeing Adam sad. He’s such a good person with such a tender heart; people like him shouldn’t have to go through what the rest of us demented side-show freaks experience. I touch his face with the palm of my hand, which he leans on, and I’m glad I’ve been able to give him some solace.
