Bo & Ember (23 page)

I told her I didn’t want to see it, that much I knew for sure. I looked to Bo, silently asking if
he
wanted to see it. He clenched his jaw and looked down as he shook his head.

Bo.

I knew how scared he must have been, because I couldn’t control my reaction to the pain I was in. He gripped the hell out of my hand and had whispered in my ear that everything would be okay. I couldn’t look at him when the doctor confirmed what was happening. I’d selfishly avoided seeing the brokenness in his eyes that I knew would be there. I’d seen it before, and didn’t think it would be this soon that I’d see it again.

When my eyes opened the next morning, I looked over to find an ashen Bo sleeping in the chair against the window. We opted to stay overnight, at Greta’s strong suggestion, because of the amount of blood I’d lost, and we still had to make a decision on the remains. Looking around, I searched for signs of Willow. Even though I was in a pain medication-induced haze for most of the night before, I was certain she’d shown up before I fell asleep.

I sat up slowly, not wanting to wake Bo. I needed a few minutes in my own head to see how I felt. I needed to think about everything that happened yesterday. It was startling how
un-pregnant
I felt. I knew that I’d gone through the miscarriage yesterday, but I didn’t realize how quickly that feeling would leave me. I’d have savored it more if I’d known how fleeting it would be. Sure, I hadn’t felt any movement yet, as the baby was still so tiny, but I’d felt pregnant. I’d felt like a mother.

The door to my room slowly moved, and Willow slinked through, first eyeing Bo before turning to me. It was then that I noticed her coat draped on the chair next to Bo. She’d likely been here all night. Her eyes were tired and swollen as she met my gaze.

Willow held two Styrofoam cups in her hand, with tags from teabags dangling over the sides. She tiptoed to the chair next to me and put on a delicate smile.

“Morning,” she whispered. “They were going to bring you some of their tea, but I insisted that crap wouldn’t do.”

She handed me my cup, and upon inspection, I found my favorite tea—which happened to be hers as well. “I’m sorry I always teased you for bringing your own teabags everywhere. This is perfection.” I inhaled the calming aroma before taking a sip.

Willow’s hand cuffed my wrist as I set the cup on my lap, still holding it. She met my eyes and offered a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“I don’t know what to say, either,” I replied to her unspoken words.

“How are you feeling physically?”

“Still drugged, I think.” I so rarely took medication, that whatever they’d given me last night was still soaking my system. “When did you get here?”

“Around nine. You were kind of in and out. I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here. I had to rent a car and all that
shit.
” Willow was frustrated.

I shifted over on the bed, patting the space next to me. “Come. Sit.”

“Really?”

I nodded. “Please.”

Willow adjusted herself next to me, and I put my head on her shoulder. “Thank you for coming. I needed you.”

She kissed the top of my head. “I needed you, too.”

It’s funny how you don’t realize you fell asleep until you wake up. My eyes slowly peeled open, and I realized Willow wasn’t in bed with me, but I saw that Bo was awake. Still in the chair he was in earlier, but now he was watching me while he rested his elbows on his knees.

“Hey,” I whispered as I rubbed my eyes. “Where’s Willow?”

Bo sat up. “She went to get some lunch. Sorry I missed you when you woke up earlier.”

This was the first time we were talking since I’d lost the baby. Neither of us could look the other in the eye.

“The nurse and social worker came in while you were sleeping and asked again about the…” Bo trailed off, clenching his jaw.

“Cremation?” I choked out, clearing my throat to avoid crying. I wasn’t ready to cry yet. Not here.

He simply nodded. “They left the paperwork.”

I hadn’t been able to think about anything else since the option was presented to me. It seemed wrong, deep in my heart, to leave the hospital without the baby.

“I think we should,” I suggested softly.

“Okay.” Bo’s tone was soft, but businesslike as he scribbled his signature on a sheet of paper and handed it to me.

I wasn’t about to ask him if he wanted to talk about it further. It was clear he didn’t and, really, neither did I. I signed where I was supposed to, and Bo left the room with the paper in hand. When he returned, he sat in the chair next to my bed.

“Everything’s all set. The funeral home will contact us when … it’s ready. Will be a few weeks.” He held my hand, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like a stranger’s hand.

“Bo,” I whispered, feeling the words build that I’d planned to save for later, “I’m sorry.”

He dropped his head and brought our intertwined hands to his forehead as he took a deep breath. “Don’t, Em. Don’t apologize. This wasn’t your fault, okay?” He spoke to the floor, and I could tell by the rigid set of his shoulders that he was holding back tears.

“I know.” I took a deep breath and held the tears back. “Can Willow come home with us?”

Bo looked up, studying my face. “What?”

“I need her.” I couldn’t have explained it if he’d asked me to, but he didn’t. He simply nodded.

“Of course, love. Whatever you need.” He kissed my knuckles and rose to his feet. “Are you hungry? I want to grab some lunch.”

I took a minute to decide if the emptiness was hunger or loss. Finally, I nodded. “Yeah, I’d love some food. I don’t care what.”

Just as Bo exited the room, Willow entered. They mumbled a tired greeting to each other. When Willow sat, I updated her on our decision regarding the cremation.

She sighed in apparent relief. “I’m so glad you’re doing that. I was hoping…”

“Why?”

“I think it will make it easier to grieve. You can decide what—if anything—you’re going to do with the ashes when you’re ready. I’m proud of you.” She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. Willow and I hadn’t shown this much affection toward each other since I moved away in high school. It was exactly what I needed.

“You didn’t call my parents, did you?” I winced at the thought.

Willow winced back, and I groaned.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It was a bit of an emergency. Once I got here and talked with Bo, we called them together. I’m surprised Bo didn’t tell you…”

“We didn’t talk much.” I bit my lip and looked down. “I did ask him if you could come home with us.”

Willow scrunched her eyebrows. “What?”

“I know you’re busy and you have a job, but I need … I just need you for a few days. I don’t know. I’m sur—”

Willow interrupted me. “Of course I’ll come with you. I’ll make some calls and rearrange my schedule.”

“How’d you get out of the stuff at Grounded Sound yesterday?” I realized it would be weird for Willow to have to take off on a business trip.

She shrugged. “I told them there was a family emergency.”

I stared at Willow as realization sank in. “Who knows about this?” I asked flatly.

Willow didn’t hesitate in her answer. “Yardley and Regan. I didn’t think before I said “family emergency,” and Regan wouldn’t let me off the hook. I spoke briefly with Yardley and let her know what was happening, and that one of us would get in touch with her in a couple of days. I wanted to make sure you had some space to get home and rest.”

“Thanks for being my impromptu PR.”

A few minutes later, Bo and a nurse entered the room at the same time. The kind nurse told me that I was welcome to shower at any time, and after I finished my lunch they would do my final vitals and process my paperwork to be discharged. Bo and I ate in silence, while Willow took care of some business on her laptop.

I knew what was coming after the shower. When it happened, though, it went smoothly. I held a tiny blanket in my hands. One the nurses had used to cover up our baby before taking pictures we hadn’t asked for and sealing them in an envelope we didn’t want. Well, didn’t want
now
. Both Greta and Willow encouraged us to hang on to those things until we’d gotten through the bulk of the grief. Then we could choose to look at the pictures or not.

Not.

The grief was too thick to even know what a “bulk” of it would be. How long it would take. The blanket was soft, though, and I rubbed it between my thumb and forefinger as we drove.

Willow was following behind us in her rental car. I was given instructions to rest for the next few days, and then slowly return to normal activity.

I didn’t know what normal even was anymore. Bo and I were dating, then suddenly we were married, then we had a recording contract, then I was pregnant, then I wasn’t. There wasn’t a single shred of “normal” as far back as I could remember.

“Is Tyler still at the house?” I asked after twenty minutes of silence on the highway.

Bo kept his eyes on the road. “He’ll be back tomorrow, if that’s okay with you. I told him what happened and asked him to go home and return tomorrow so we could have some down time. I’d have put the project on longer hold, but the snow…”

“No, it’s good. It’s okay.” I put my hand on his leg. “The whole world doesn’t have to stop.”

I wanted it to, though. Badly. Even if just for a minute so I could find my bearings in this new world.

“Shit,” I whispered.

“What?” Bo’s voice was shaky.

“Monica…”

Bo swallowed hard. “I wasn’t sure how you’d want to handle that so I haven’t called her or Josh. I figured we’d wait till we got home.”

Suddenly I was questioning how I was going to tell my still-pregnant best friend that I’d lost my baby. Just as quick, the thought entered my head that I didn’t want to see her. I’d just send her the stuff I bought in New York.

My mind began to spin with the thousand tiny loose ends I’d have to tie up. In the meantime, I had to get home with the blanket of the baby that wasn’t meant to be. The grief would come, and I wanted to prepare for it the best I could. It was like a freight train sounding its horn in the distance, and I was tied to the tracks.

It was too warm for a New Hampshire December. The whole drive back home I’d planned on asking Bo to build a fire in the fireplace in the living room and curling up on the couch in his arms. The further north we got, however, the harder it rained. It was a funny thing, the rain. It was so loud that I couldn’t hear my thoughts, but each drop that hit the windshield took its time trickling down. But, I knew if I stuck my hand out of the window, it would feel like a million needles pricking my skin. It sounded hard, felt sharp, and looked beautiful. What a curious thing it must be to be a raindrop.

It was fifty-five-
fucking
degrees when we turned down the driveway. One thing I found to be grateful for was the rain; the sun would just have been mocking.

Bo put the car in park and exited, walking to my side and opening the door. I didn’t always wait for him to open my door, but this time I did. We both needed it, I think. He put his arm around me and we hurried up the stairs to get out of the rain.

“Willow texted me a little while ago,” I shouted above the rain. “She’ll be here in about an hour. She pulled off for some food … probably to give us some time.”

Bo nodded and unlocked the door. Stepping in was a bit jarring, because from the entryway we could see clearly that the wall had been taken down in the dining room. There was lots of thick construction plastic and plywood around, sealing the outside air outside where it belonged. It was a bigger hole than I thought it would be.

“Did you want to rest upstairs?” Bo went to take my hand, but paused when his fingers touched the tiny, soft reminder it held.

I shifted the blanket to my other hand and grasped his. “If it’s all right with you, I think I want to sit outside for a few minutes.”

The walls of the house felt just confining enough for me to crave the swing on the covered front porch.

Once again he nodded, the emotion of his eyes indecisive. “I’ll bring in our bags from the car. Do you need anything? Tea?”

I wrapped my arms around myself even though it wasn’t cold in the house. “Tea would be great. Whatever’s in the cabinet. I don’t care.” I forced the corners of my mouth to twitch upward as I turned and headed for the door.