I looked around. I’d assumed she’d followed us in here, but I realised now that she wasn’t in the room. Nor was Alex.
“I don’t know,” I said. “She must be out in the waiting room with Alex. Can I go bring them in?”
“Absolutely! I want them to meet Emily, too.”
Emily.
I faltered, but only for a moment. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
“We’ll be right here,” Jas said, staring down at the face of her sleeping daughter in awe. I don’t think she could quite believe she was finally here, either.
I reluctantly left Bridget cooing over the three of them, and headed back down the hall to the waiting room. I felt lighter than I had in a long time. Things had begun to fall together, in the same way they had fallen apart. Suddenly, without warning. I actually felt like I was walking on air.
But the waiting room was empty. Maybe they’d gone downstairs to buy flowers, or a gift or something? The joy I’d felt moments before began to trickle away. I wanted to share it with her. I wanted her to be part of this moment, part of us, all of us. Slightly deflated, I turned around and began walking back to Jas’s room.
That’s when I saw it.
A light, bright and the palest shade of blue, coming out of a small glass window set into the door of the room right beside me. It wasn’t fluorescent, and it didn’t belong here, that much I knew almost instantly. I glanced up and down the hall, but there was no one around. The maternity ward was quiet at last.
Mesmerised, I watched as the light grew brighter, spilling out from around the door and bathing the immediate vicinity in its glow.
My heart performed a graceful but sudden swan-dive from the middle of my chest down to the soles of my feet, and my entire body tingled. A sense of all-encompassing love flowed over me, through me, making my ears ring with the power of it.
It was unlike anything I’d ever felt before, and at that moment, it felt as if time had shuddered to a halt, and that anything was possible. My breath came in small gasps as I reached for the door handle.
Whatever it was that was going on inside that room, I was a part of it and it was a part of me.
Maia/Emily
They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.
For death is no more than a turning of us over from time to eternity.
Death cannot kill what never dies.
- William Penn
“AREN’T YOU GOING WITH THEM?” Alex asked, as Bridget and Heath retreated down the hallway with Vinnie.
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
It was a good question. I wished I had a proper answer for him, but there was something holding me back.
“It’s a family moment,” I said, grasping for a plausible reason. “I don’t want to intrude.”
He nodded as if he understood, which would have been a miracle because even I didn’t understand it. I felt like an outsider again. There was a force holding me in place, keeping me from joining the group, and I wanted to fight it, but I didn’t seem to have the nerve. I slumped back into the chair as their voices died away and mingled with the hum of the hospital lights.
Alex sat down opposite me, putting a bag of food down on the empty chair beside him. I looked over at him, trying to arrange my features so that my disappointment in myself didn’t show on my face.
“You should be in there too, shouldn’t you?” I asked him.
He smiled, and I could feel a familiar tug inside my heart. It was a feeling I usually associated with Heath. He had the same sad smile when he talked about Emily.
“I’m not really ready for all this,” he said with a heavy sigh, the smile dying away.
There was something about being awake at this time of the morning, when the rest of the world was sleeping. Everything took on a surreal glow, and your defences seemed to waver. The truth came out more easily at this hour than it did at any other, and I could see Alex struggling. I could almost hear his thoughts.
How much should I tell her?
He ran a hand through his shaggy blonde hair, then leaned forward, his eyes on the floor. I could feel the discomfort settle over him, an old friend he’d be clutching ever since the disappearance.
“What do you mean?”
“This family stuff,” he mumbled.
The fluorescent lights seemed to hum louder again, filling the silence between us. He looked up at me through eyes that had seen more than they wanted to see, and I could feel it, the ache he tried to hide. I hardly knew him, but it was suddenly as plain as day. I’d seen glimpses of grief before, especially during the past few days, but this was different. It was fresh and raw, yet at the same time, something told me he’d been holding on to this for a long time. It was a part of him, a part he had struggled with in the past and was still struggling with, especially as new life was beginning in the room down the hall.