The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella (19 page)

BOOK: The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella
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Saying the words out loud makes me sick. Suddenly, I have no words. None. All I have to give is my next breath, which barely escapes the clutches of my anguish.

My baby

was it just last night that we decided on a name? Was it just a few more days before we started telling our friends?

My sweetheart

oh, God, why? God, why would You do this to her? How? How is she going to get over this? She

s been so scared and so worried

and just when she was starting to get excited


Grayson, honey, talk to me.

Shannon

s voice breaks through my thoughts and I manage to drag in another breath.

Where

s Avery?

“Um,

my voice comes out shakily, which startles me. It isn

t until I scrape my hand down my face that I realize I

m trembling.

She

s in surgery. God, mom, she was in so much pain

and there was so much blood.

She proceeds to ask me a few more questions, all of which I don

t have the answers to. It makes me feel even worse. My disposition is one that she catches onto quickly and she tells me that they

re going to let me go, but that I should call them as soon as Avery is out of surgery. I promise them that I will, then hope that I have half a mind to remember. Right now, all I want to do is hold my girl and make sure that she

s going to be alright

that
we

re
going to be alright.

I wake up crying. Or at least, that

s what it feels like. It

s entirely possible that the reality of my barrenness coaxed me out of my sleep and stabbed me in the heart while I was in that in-between space

that special place when you

re not awake but not asleep; that place where your dreams still feel tangible; that place where your waking nightmare seems escapable. Though I know, looking into Grayson

s tired, sad, and anxious eyes

I know my nightmare is only beginning.

Our baby is gone. Just

gone.

I can

t stop my tears. I have neither the energy, nor the desire to combat my sobs. I weep, my physical pain an inexcusable joke in comparison to the anguish caused by my broken heart. I cry so hard I can hardly breathe. When Grayson crawls into the hospital bed with me, wrapping me in his arms, I allow myself to cling to him, though I know I don

t deserve his comfort.

I failed him. I failed them both.

“Breathe, Avery,

he murmurs, his lips pressed against my hair at the crown of my head. I can tell, without even looking at his face, that he

s got tears in his eyes. The strain in his voice crushes me even more.

We

re going to get through this, sweetheart. I

m right here. Just try and take a deep breath.

His kindness destroys me and I wish that I could disappear. Instead, I take the cowardly way out and I melt into him

needing his warmth; needing his comfort; needing his strength; needing
him

the very air that I breathe.
I

m not nearly brave enough to push him away or to even speak the words that clog my airway.

I

m sorry

My sobs dissipate as the anesthesia wears off. I ache, the physical aftermath of my body

s loss hardly tolerable. I don

t know or care what time it is. All I know for sure is that when Sonny tells me my mother is on the phone, the sun is rising. I refuse to speak to her, of course, as I have no words to offer her. I also know that hearing her sweet voice will rip apart the microscopically thin veil shielding the world from the torment that rages on inside of me.

When I am discharged, I hardly hear a word of my doctor

s instructions. As I am handed my prescription for pain meds, all I can think about is how, just a few hours ago, I wouldn

t have been allowed these drugs. Now that my baby is

my baby is

Gone. Just gone.

I don

t realize that my cheeks are soaked until Grayson buckles me into the car and then reaches to dry my face with gentle hands.

We

re going to get through this, Shorty,

he says soothingly.

I promise.

My eyes stare into his green ones and I wonder what color our baby

s eyes were going to be? I wonder what color hair he would have? Or if she

d have freckles sprinkled across her nose like her daddy? None of my questions are new, but now I know that I will never know the answers.

I choke on a gasp, pulling my gaze away from his. In this very moment, I wonder if his promise is true

if we

ll really get through this. Right now, I can

t see past my pain. Right now, my mind is a haunted place where every vision of our family of three seems to be vanishing before I can even take a moment and savor them.

I feel so powerless. So helpless. So out of control. I want to crawl out of my skin

out of my lame body, the body that wasn

t good enough to keep my baby safe, and healthy, and
alive
. I want to
scream

throwing my voice toward heaven in an attempt to plead for answers. I want to know why? Why God would give me life and then take it away?

I know this is my fault. Deep down, no matter what anyone tells me, I know this is my fault. I wished that I wasn

t pregnant. In the beginning, I was scared and stupid and I wished that I wasn

t pregnant

but I changed my mind! Maybe it was too late

maybe God had already decided?

Oh, God

why? You know my heart!

“Hey. We

re home, sweetheart. Come on.

I

m startled out of my thoughts at the feel of Sonny

s fingers as he sweeps my hair behind one of my ears. I can

t help but notice how calm he is. For a second, I wonder what he

s thinking, what he

s feeling

and then I realize I can

t carry his thoughts or his pain. The weight of my guilt is too heavy already. Instead, I allow him to lift me from the car and carry me to our apartment. He sets me down on my bare feet once we

re inside and I hold his hand, leaning into him as he escorts me to our bedroom.

My knees buckle when we reach the threshold and I see
death
in our bed. I wail as I begin to go down, the sight shoving aside every ounce of strength I had to spare. Sonny catches me in his arms, murmuring into my ear

but I can

t hear him. I won

t! His sympathy, his tenderness, his love

I can

t take it anymore.

“Don

t!

I manage, pushing his arms from around me.

Don

t!

I sputter as I stumble away from him.

“Ave
—”

I ignore him as I close myself into the bathroom, pressing myself against the door as I sink to the floor.

“Ave

Avery, please?

I rest my forehead against the door, pleading with her to let me in. She refuses, locking me out for good measure. I feel like such an asshole

how could I forget? How could I bring her home and into our bedroom and forget?

I want to punch something. The fury I feel rattles my bones. I

m mad at myself, for my thoughtless actions. I

m mad at God, for allowing this to happen. I

m just

mad!
Seeing her like this is ripping me apart, compounding the pain that comes with the death of our baby

of everything we

ve been preparing for as we

ve anticipated new life. It

s all been stolen.

I stride into our bedroom with purpose and rip the sheets from off of our bed. The evidence of our tragedy has soaked into the mattress. I feel something inside of me snap and I take the whole thing and head for the door. I lug it all the way to the dumpster, completely uncaring as to whether or not this is the way to dispose of the thing. It

s no longer our safe place; it

s no longer our marriage bed; it

s been marred by death.

As I make my way up the stairs, I rehear it

the scream that yanked me out of sleep

and my knees grow weak. I drop down and sit on a step, raking my fingers through my hair before grabbing two fistfuls. I promised her that we would get through this, but the hollowness I feel makes me question how in the hell we

re going to manage it. How do I pull her from her dark place when I

m still roaming in mine? How do I comfort her if she won

t let me? She can hardly look at me.

What the fuck, God? What the fuck?

As soon as I think the words, my spirit crumbles and I let out a cry. My heart knows

my heart
knows
that I

m not going to get through this without God; that I

m not going to get through this without His peace; that I

m not going to get through this without His hope. I

m humbled knowing that I don

t have the strength to overcome this, but He does. And yet

I

m so angry at Him that I don

t want to call for Him. Instead, I

m sitting here cursing and questioning Him. The worst part is, it doesn

t make me feel any better.

BOOK: The O'Conners: A Made for Love Novella
6.88Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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