I’m trying, but every time I think things are getting better, he asks me if I still believe my mystery man is out there and we fight again.
I know I should just let it go, but the emptiness in my chest is growing rapidly, and each day it just gets worse and worse. Sometimes I lie alone at night, wondering if I’m losing my mind. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I imagined it all. I wrote it all down, even searched the death and missing person lists, just to try and prove to my family and myself that he was real. Nothing showed up.
Today, we’re having a memorial for our baby. It’s nothing much; we’re just going to go down to the park by the cemetery and say a few words. Gerard says it’ll help us let go, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let go of the tiny life I lost, no matter how early my pregnancy was. Still, remembering her and giving her what she deserves is the best thing for everyone.
“Are you ready?” Gerard asks, coming in the front door. He went back to work yesterday, saying he couldn’t take any more time off.
That had hurt more than I care to admit.
Why didn’t I realize sooner just how much his job means to him? It always comes first.
“Yeah,” I say softly, wrapping my big coat around me and following him to his car.
We drive in silence to the park. When we arrive we both get out, walking to the thickness of some shady trees and I kneel, pulling out the spade I brought from home and digging a small hole. Then I place the tiny rose bush I purchased yesterday into it, covering it over until it sits there, alone amongst the big trees. A tear rolls down my cheek, and I run my fingers over the leaves.
“I’m so sorry. I love you,” I whisper. “Rest easy, baby.”
Gerard watches me, and when I turn to look at him, he’s staring at the plant with no expression on his face. He’s been doing that a lot lately, and I feel awful. He’s shutting down, and I’m doing nothing to stop it. Not a single thing. I should be supporting him, helping him through this too, but right now I can barely hold myself up.
“Are you going to say anything?” I ask.
“There isn’t really much to say.”
Who is this man? “Okay,” I say softly, standing. “Maybe we can get some lunch before you go back to work?”
He looks pained, but keeps staring at the rose bush. “I can’t. I’ve been out of work for almost three weeks now, and there is so much to be done. I barely had the time to come here for this.”
“This?” I say, my voice full of pain. “This is our child.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his face scrunching. “I just meant that things are hectic. I’m sorry.”
“Things are always hectic,” I mutter.
His face hardens now. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there that day, Lucy. If that’s where you’re going with this, then don’t. I suffer enough guilt.”
“How is this about you?” I yell. “Seriously, Gerard. I didn’t even imply that.”
“But you’re thinking it. Somewhere deep down you’re thinking it.”
My god. “No, I’m not. It wasn’t your fault you weren’t there; it was nobody’s fault.”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “I have to get back to work. I’ll get a cab back. You take the car when you’re done.”
“Are you seriously going to leave right now?” I cry, trying to keep it together. “This is important.”
“I know that,” he says, clearly trying to keep calm. “But so is keeping a roof over our heads.”
“You can’t even say two words for a baby you wanted so much?”
His eyes flash with pain, but mostly with anger. “I’m not going this. Not here. I’m going back to work, Lucy.”
With that, he turns his back to me and walks off.
“Gerard!” I call, but he doesn’t stop.
Who the hell is this man? He’s certainly not my husband. But I suppose I’m not his wife, either.
What does that make us then?
Strangers?
That thought terrifies me.
CHAPTER 7
I sit by the rose bush for what seems like hours, stroking the leaves, thinking about my baby and my life, but mostly about our marriage. I don’t even realize I’m crying until a tear rolls over my cheek and drops onto a green leaf, sliding down until it drops into the soil and disappears. I swipe my cheek with the back of my hand and think about what Gerard said. Do I blame him for not being there? For making work more important than me? I don’t know.
“It’s a beautiful plant.”
I flinch as a voice I’ve dreamed about for so long fills my body with warmth. I don’t turn, scared it’ll all just be a hallucination. I can’t bear anymore disappointment. Anymore crazy.
“She deserves that much,” I whisper.
I’m probably talking to myself right now, but I just can’t seem to care.
“She does.”
“You are following me?” I ask. My fingers tremble, but I keep stroking the soft leaf.
“I’m keeping an eye on you.”
“Same thing.”