“You don’t ever have to worry about that. My heart doesn’t beat without yours.”
I stay on the phone listening to his breathing, and after a few minutes I can tell he’s fallen asleep. I keep the phone and the rain station on his pillow next to mine, and I drift off to sleep, too.
I dream that he’s home, and he wraps me up in his arms and I’m finally able to tell him we’re having a baby.
Chapter Forty-Four
I call her cell phone for what must be the fiftieth time.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, you’ve reached the voicemail of Piper Karel. Leave me a message and I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Thanks!”
“Babe, it’s me. Where are you? I’ve been calling you for hours. Not sure what’s going on. Call me when you get this. I love you.”
My hand shakes erratically as I end the call. Ashes spill off the cigarette I’m holding and sprinkle onto the hotel carpet.
I hold the butt to my lips and suck it like I’m syphoning for air. I hold the smoke in my lungs. Let it fill my hollow void, then let it out.
I pace the room. Exactly six steps to the balcony. Exactly six steps back to the edge of the bed.
Six.
Six.
Six.
Piper always answers my calls. She’s a creature of extreme habit—always at the same place at the same time of day every day. She’s the one and only thing that doesn’t fuck with me or confuse me.
It’s five p.m. there.
It’s ten p.m. here.
I woke at six a.m.
Didn’t I? What day is it?
Does that even fucking matter?
Where is she?
Ladybug, have you finally flown away from me?
I light another cigarette. Now I’ve got one in each hand.
She’s gone.
No more soft voices. No smiles. No love. No more hope.
No more peace. No more normal.
The silence is maddening, thrashing in my brain like a wild animal.
The emptiness is turning my blood to liquid ice.
I’m shivering from the cold.
She left you.
They all left you.
No.
Drink. It will melt the ice. You need the warmth and the heat in your veins.
No.
The drugs will cure you. You’re sick. It will numb the pain. Silence the silence.
No.
No one will know. You’re alone. You’re always alone. You only have me. I won’t tell.
No. They love me.
You disappoint them. They deserve better. They’ve run away. To hide from you.
They wouldn’t do that.
Evan, you dumb fuck. They already have.
Go away. Please just go away.
Fly away from it all. You know you have wings. Use them. Come with me. Stand on the balcony. Just six steps. Fly with me. You’ll never hurt again. You’ll be free, just like me. Watch me fly. Do what I do.
No. I don’t have wings.
Shhh. You can sing and fly just like me. I won’t let you fall.
No. You’re not real.
I snatch up the phone again and smash my finger on the speed-dial for Piper’s house.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
Ring.
“Hi, we’re not home right now. Leave us a message. Thanks!”
Fuck.
What. The. Fuck.
I struggle to use my calm, sober, I’ve-got-it-together, nothing-to-worry-about-here voice.
I’d probably have an easier time singing the fucking National Anthem right now.
“Piper…I need you, baby. Where are you? I can’t find you or Lyric. Please don’t do this. I’m better now. I love you. Please come back.”
I pace again.
I walk.
Out the door and down the stairs.
So many fucking stairs, I can’t even count.
Every time I tell them don’t give me stairs and yet, they still give me all the fucking stairs.
I’m walking.
Out into the night, into the cool, open air.
My heart is aching, my fingers are numb.
My vision is blurred at the edges like a burnt photograph. Everything is fading away.
I walk.
Step. Step. Step. Step.
One, two, three, four…
Every step grounding me. Clearing my mind. Moving me forward. Away, away, away from the voices.
Walking.
For as long as it takes, as far as it takes.
As long as I’m walking, I’m not able to fly.
Chapter Forty-Five
The doctor’s words are still ricocheting around in my head, even though I’m sure a full five minutes has passed since she spoke them in her soothing voice.
“I’m so sorry, Miss Karel. There’s no heartbeat. It appears the baby stopped growing at approximately nine weeks.”
Three weeks ago, my tiny baby left me.
I didn’t even know.
How could I not know?
And Blue, my love, never knew that a baby was waiting for him to come home. A baby that I wanted to surprise him with, in person, so we could do it right this time. Together.
A baby that he was never supposed to miss a moment of.
Gone.
Pain ripples through me and I shake my head as tears spill down my cheeks, and I hug myself, clutching my stomach.
My sobs are muffling the doctor’s voice, drowning her words as she continues to say things no mother should ever hear.
“Are you sure?” I ask desperately as the nurse helps me sit up. “I’ve been fine. Totally fine, actually. I haven’t been sick or had any cramps or bleeding or anything. I think it’s a mistake. Or maybe the baby is tiny? I’m very petite, and so is my daughter. She was just barely five pounds when she was born. At full term.” I gulp and try to catch my breath. “Can you check again?”
Dr. Powell offers me a sympathetic shake of her head, snapping off her purple latex gloves.
“I’m sorry, Piper. There’s no doubt. I know how devastating this is for you, and I’m so very sorry.”
I’m wracked with waves of nausea, lightheadedness, and an overwhelming sense of detached reality.
At home, an itty-bitty black T-shirt with Blue’s band logo on it waits for him next to the bed.
If I could just get this ridiculous paper robe off, get out of here, go home, and call Blue. I can tell him all about the baby, and none of this will be happening.
I can make it stop. I can bring him back.
It’ll all stop. Our tiny one will be safe, nestled in my womb, waiting to come into our world and wear its little T-shirt.
Blue will be so happy. He’ll tell me the baby will name itself—and I’ll believe him.
Lyric will play lullabies on her harp next to my stomach.
It’ll be a boy. I can feel that in my soul. Son of a rock legend who would follow in his daddy’s footsteps.
Another kickass kid, Blue would say with that sexy, confident, proud grin of his that turns me to jelly.
I can see our baby so clearly, so vividly.
He’s real. He can’t be gone.
If only I had begged Blue to come home, if only I had flown out to London to see him when he asked weeks ago.
If I had not kept the baby a secret, if I had let Blue—or anyone else—know this tiny life existed, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe he would have felt how loved and wanted he was by so many, and he would have stayed.
I’m admitted to the hospital for a procedure later this afternoon that will take my baby away forever.
I call Ditra, and we cry together like we’ve done many times since we were little girls, but this time is the hardest, the worst, the unimaginable.
Ditra takes control, arranging to stay at my house tonight to keep my daughter and my pets company. Tomorrow she’ll take Lyric to school, then she and Billy will come get me and my car and take me home to recover.
Honestly I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.
How does anyone?
I should call my mother, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m not ready to talk to anyone. I refuse to share my loss with anyone else until I can talk to Blue.
I have no idea how I’ll find the words to tell him we lost our baby, and for a few moments I grasp at the idea of never telling him at all. I can protect him from this heartache, save him from more distress that will only add to everything else he’s dealing with in his life right now.
Something awful like this could send him right over the edge again, back into the seductive arms of drugs and alcohol.
Do I dare risk all that?
Yes. I have to.