What We Leave Behind (41 page)

“What state?”

“Quiet. Careless.”

“Careless?” I inquired.

“You didn’t tell Ari you’d see him in the morning. You always say that, every night, without fail.”

I hadn’t known that Marty was aware of the superstition that had begun in childhood and now infiltrated my adult life. I drew comfort from saying those words, probably more for my benefit than for Ari’s. That Marty noticed it, tonight of all nights, interested me. Even with the gulf that widened the space between us, there was an intuition amongst couples that hindered their efforts to truly separate. There were nuances and quirks that you learned over time and through everyday closeness that a physical separation, alone, could not dissolve. It was this one piece of information, this one ritual that held Marty and me together.

“What’s on your mind?”

I looked at him across the room. He was the same man in many ways, probably even better looking than when we first met, but I could feel the subtle change in him. Was it me? I wasn’t sure. I was aware of the way our bodies reacted to one another—something guided them close, then far, then near again.

How could I explain my fertility problem without hurting his feelings? Or even worse, how could I explain them without activating that part of me that
wanted
to hurt him?

“I see you’re not pregnant yet,” he said. “Is that what this is about?”

I wished it were only that. The doctor hadn’t gotten back to me with my test results, but I’d become convinced they would indicate an immense problem, and punishment for the sins of my youth. Something was wrong; I felt it in my bones. Rather than discuss my inadequacies with Marty, I decided to bring up a whole different topic. He had taken a seat on the couch in our once-shared living room. I sat across the room in a lone chair. It was fitting.

“I used to say the same thing to you.”

He was clearly puzzled. “What?”

“When you used to be here, when we’d be in bed together, I’d whisper in your ear, ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’ I don’t know if you ever heard it, but I said it, every night. It was my assurance that you’d never leave.”

“I never left you, Jess.”

“No?”

His eyes turned sad and regretful. “Your heart hasn’t been with me since Joshua died.”

I said, “My heart was ripped out of me that day. There was nothing left to give.”

“What’s motivating you now? What’s motivating you to have this whole life planned without me in it, with someone else?”

To hear it laid out like that, straightforward and raw, any explanation I could offer seemed almost inhuman. Marty’s indifference to my desires had made it easy to justify what I was doing. When I’d cling to the idea that he was betraying me and betraying our marriage, I wouldn’t need to empathize with him. But my need to be right resurfaced and I said, “It’s not like that.”

“Explain it to me.”

“My daughter’s life is at stake here. I’m not trying to fill some selfish need. I’m not trying to hurt you.”

“I never would have stopped you from helping your daughter. I’m just sorry you never felt you could trust me. I’m sorry for the brother or sister we won’t be giving Ari. I gave you everything, Jess, all I had…I thought it was enough.”

“What about Stella?” There was no sense avoiding it. If we were going to have this conversation, right here, right now, why not air out all the dirty laundry?

“What about Stella?” he repeated. Something in the way he spoke her name made me regret asking.

“Are you sleeping with her?”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

“It’s me, Marty,” I said. “I saw you on TV with her. I saw the way you looked at her. You could barely keep your eyes off her. You weren’t wearing your ring. I saw your finger.”

“She’s the next Madonna, Jess, everyone watches her like that.”

“Not you, Marty.”

“And what about that weekend?” I continued, a series of allegations I couldn’t quiet from my mouth. I called your office, and Marla had no idea where you were, or at least she acted like she had no idea where you were. I tried your cell phone for two days, and no one answered. Where were you? Were you with her?”

I thought my accusations would leave him repentant or eager to fire off a defensive response, but he just smiled. And the smile turned into laughter as he cupped his head in his hands, nodding back and forth, taunting me. “Jess, you have some imagination.”

“It’s well-founded.”

“It’s cute.”

“Don’t even try to charm your way out of this, Marty. You were always a cheat. I should have never expected you to change.”

“Really? Then what can we call you?”

“How dare you turn this into some cheap affair.”

“Is there another name for a wife’s relationship with her ex-lover?”

“We’re not in a relationship.”

“Then how come you haven’t been able to answer my question?”

“Answer me, first,” I demanded. “Where were you?”

Marty faced me with the little fight he had left. He spoke rationally and calmly. “Don’t accuse me to justify your actions. Saving your child, I’d never take that away from you, but I didn’t bring our breakup on, you did. Don’t blame me. Whatever’s going on with you, whether you know it or not, is destroying us, so you better be clear about what you want. I know what I want. I want our life back, I want you, but I won’t accept you back with missing pieces. If you won’t give all of you, our marriage isn’t worth saving.”

Marty walked toward me. The tight thickening of my heart had begun to weaken as he came closer. Standing before me, he watched me and I watched him. “I didn’t cheat on you, not with Stella, not with anyone. I’ve been faithful to you since the day you walked into my office.”

“You were dating seventeen different women,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

“And I got rid of them all for you,” he professed. “Listen to me,” he continued, taking my hand into his, his voice hoarse and dry, “That week, when you couldn’t reach me, I was with Ari and Beth in DC. I missed him. I wanted to see him, so I flew out and met them all. I didn’t want you to know. Marla must have been confused when you called, because naturally she assumed I was with you. I haven’t told her what’s going on. Nobody knows, not even Jeff and Sharon. If I talked about it with anyone, the actual separation, there would be a finality to it. I was hoping we could work through this…and my ring, Ari insisted on showing it to his playgroup, so I had to take it off for a day. Other than you, he’s the only person I can’t say no to.”

His confession of innocence flooded through me, and when it reached places torn and battered, a calm rushed over me. I clasped harder to his hand; the smooth skin welcomed me like an old friend. We had lost a lot over the last year. With all that anger and hurt, it was hard to see a way for things to be right again, but I found some comfort in knowing that there was still love. Marty kneeled before me and cradled me in his arms while I unleashed a fountain of tears. I remembered in college when I’d come home for a weekend and walk through the door and the mere smell in the air would take me back to childhood. Being close to Marty again was like walking through that door. It was like being home.

We sat like that for a while, Marty holding me in his arms and loving me more than I deserved. I didn’t want to tell him what I’d feared, that the possibility existed that I might never have a child, whomever the father might be. I didn’t want to need him. I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me. I was doing a good enough job at that myself. But for a few moments, we let down our defenses, and I thought that maybe, just maybe, we could make this thing work.

My cell phone rang, and I looked down to see Jonas’s number across the screen. I didn’t take the call, but it didn’t matter. My body tensed, and I pulled away.

Marty said, “I lost you again, didn’t I?”

I got up, unable to answer.

If only there wasn’t Jonas, Jonas, who had stolen my strength and dignity, the man who would make it impossible for love to be uncomplicated. Marty was standing before me, and I saw in his eyes what I already knew. He was right, I was gone again. And I hated myself for it.

The flight back to New York was a difficult one. My mind was full of confusion and longing that clouded my better judgment. Jonas was expecting another procedure, and instead I had to tell him that I wasn’t sure it could happen, that our promise to our sick child might be broken.

When I arrived at the hospital, there was a bustling I felt around me at once. You just know something important is going on when a flurry of doctors and nurses speed through the hallways and urgency fills the air. I found Jonas heading in my direction. We always met in the lobby. He seemed pale and distressed about something. My instincts took over.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, knowing right away something was wrong. “Is it Michelle? Is she back in the hospital?”

He didn’t answer. I don’t think he physically could. Something deep within his body was choking the words from coming out.

“Come with me.” He took my hand and led me to the elevator.

“Tell me, Jonas.” His eyes were glazed over. The life inside them had all but vanished.

The elevator doors opened, and there they were, Michelle’s parents turning the corner toward us. Mrs. Sammler was openly crying, Mr. Sammler was trying to comfort her.

It wasn’t registering with me. I couldn’t get a handle on what the others already knew.

Dr. Greene appeared in a doorway. He was hiding his pain behind a stoic face. He was a doctor, but nothing prepares you for the death of a child.

“I’m so sorry…” I heard him say.

Mrs. Sammler let out a groan that sounded more animal than human.

“She’s gone,” Dr. Greene confirmed.

I clutched on to Jonas, unable to support myself.

Mrs. Sammler was whisked away by her husband, barely able to walk. He had to physically carry her down the hallway while she flailed in his arms shouting, “No, my baby, no…” I knew I would never see her again. I wondered if I would always picture her face as it was when she was dragged through the hospital corridor. Would it haunt me for the rest of my life?

Jonas and I comforted one another, tears heavy down our faces, the finality of death taking over. He wanted to see her again, to say good-bye. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look at her beautiful face without life. Instead, I waited in the hallway as he went in the room.  When he came out, I could tell he’d been crying. He said she looked peaceful, free from suffering, and then he grabbed me by the hand and we left.

We drove without speaking until we reached his apartment building. Jonas maneuvered me into the elevator and then through his doorway. He brought me to his bedroom and helped me onto the bed, covering me with a blanket and asking if I’d like anything to help me relax. I said no. I didn’t need anything. I knew the pain and suffering would eventually put me to sleep and take me away from the crushing truth. I longed for the darkness and the silence that would lead the way.

He stroked my hair as I silently cried myself to sleep. There was so much lost that hope was no longer an option. When sleep finally came to me, it was a broken slumber composed of fitful dreams, and when I awoke the following afternoon, Jonas was there beside me. At first, I thought I was imagining him there, that I was still dreaming and he was a part of the dream, but unlike the times before, he was there, releasing me from the longing.

“How are you?” he asked.

I didn’t know if I could answer. The question flooded me with sorrow.

“It’s going to be alright,” he said, and understanding my need for silence, he held me in his arms and allowed me to cry on his shoulders. I closed my eyes and wished that it were me who had died and not another child of mine. In those moments of darkness, it was starting to become clear to me. For too long I’d been unable to rely on others, as if needing someone would make them leave. Maybe Marty hadn’t left. Maybe it was me who had become frightened and scared and retreated into places I didn’t dare speak about. Maybe it wasn’t so terrible to need someone. Crying in Jonas’s arms, I wasn’t ashamed anymore.

He left me there and went to his office. Life had to go on. Patients needed to be seen. I continued to dream and sleep and remember, tossing and turning, venturing into another restless slumber, one bursting with visions so much like real life, I couldn’t distinguish the two. My cell phone rang. It was the doctor with my test results. I listened as she told me what I wasn’t prepared to hear.

The cemetery was beautiful that time of year. The leaves were bright green; the grass lush and full of flowers. I kneeled at his grave, knowing I should be at hers, but there was something I needed to do first, something I should have done a long time ago.

I had never been there before. I hadn’t even known where it was. My mother had to give me directions. She was surprised, I could tell, and I think she was happy too. My fingers brushed against the letters that formed his name, and I traced the dates, the numbers that would forever represent time given and time stolen. The in between was time borrowed, reduced to a dash.

I whispered,
Bernard
, so unfamiliar to my tongue. I’d maybe said it two times before in my whole life.

And then I said good-bye.

“Good-bye, Daddy.” I’d never said that before. What followed was a release of grief, the kind you keep locked up inside for years, because it seems a hell of a lot easier to tolerate than the aftermath of loss. Processing my grief is what I avoided, and now I understood why. The sadness was unbearable. I clutched at my belly, feeling the ache deep within my stomach. This was the father I’d lost, the man who was supposed to take care of me forever but couldn’t. I finally let it settle in my heart, where it had been hidden my whole life. I forgave him, and I honored him at the same time.

Sitting there looking at the space he occupied, I knew I was saying good-bye to so much more than the man. The tears weren’t his alone, although he started them. I cried for the things I’d held onto for too long, the stuff I should have let go of, like the game of fairy tale I knew better than to believe in. I cried for the emptiness inside of me, the soul that ached for someone to fill it up, and for the awareness that no one ever could, not when the standard was set so high. I cried for the boy who tried, the one I thought I loved. The only thing he filled me with was more longing, an emotion that tricks you into thinking it’s love. And then I cried for the man who was big enough to love me when I deemed myself unworthy, proving to me that love belonged here on earth and that it was present in my life. You can’t always see love, I learned, but you should always be able to trust that it’s there, and now I did.