Bo & Ember (24 page)

As I sat down on the swing, letting the momentum of my body carry me back and forth a few times before stilling, I watched the rain again. It was so heavy that it looked like waves were crashing through thin air. There was too much sensory input, so I closed my eyes.

For a few moments, I listened. Not only could I hear the wind and the sound of a million raindrops hitting the ground, but I could hear the slower ones, too. The drip-drop that splashed water onto my left elbow from the gutter that needed to be fixed. The rippling of water over the stones by the front stairs…

Slowly, I let my eyes open as I took three deep breaths. My eyes focused on the railing a few feet in front of me. It seemed as though the rain morphed into slow motion as I watched individual drops cling to the top beam of the porch before free-falling to that railing and splattering into ten new droplets of frigid water.

I knew I was clinging.

And I was ready to splatter.

As the long-awaited sob choked my throat, I clutched the tiny yellow blanket in my left hand and I ran. I didn’t care about slipping on the repair-ready front stairs, and I sure as hell didn’t care that I wasn’t wearing a coat. Bo’s head was buried in the trunk of the car as he dug around for our things. I splashed through an ankle deep puddle near the rear of the car, startling him.

“Ember!” he shouted. “What are you doing?”

I didn’t answer, I just kept running. I shouldn’t have been running. They told me to rest.

It hurts to run. It hurts to sit. It hurts to exist.

I knew I was still bleeding, and running would only make it worse, medically speaking. Emotionally, nothing was worse. I growled and screamed as I ran to the far corner of the property, where I found the giant willow tree.

Leaf-bare from a successful turning of the seasons, its branches hung in frightening patterns around the trunk. Skinless fingers all pointing in different directions. There was no hiding behind the lush green hug of Mother Nature.

Once I reached the base of the tree, where I’d fallen asleep more than once in more desirable weather, I collapsed to my knees, screaming unintelligible words and setting the tiny square of a blanket on a wet leaf. New Hampshire hadn’t had a deep freeze yet, but the ground was painfully cold as I clawed at the dirt around the hundred-year-old roots.

“Ember!” Bo’s voice was faint, but growing louder.

I had to get this done before he got here. He’d have an opinion, and probably one I didn’t want.

I dug harder and faster, kicking dirt up into my eyes and mouth as I prayed for the ground to open up just enough. Once it looked like it was deep enough, even though I had no way of knowing what “enough” was, I picked up the blanket and pressed it into the cold, wet ground. I couldn’t see anything. There was too much rain and far too many tears. My throat turned more raw with each scream I let out.

Before I let one handful of soil escape my hands to cover up the blanket, Bo raced to my side, throwing himself down on his knees next to me, and pulling my hands away from the dirt.

“What are you doing?” he cried as his raspy voice crackled through the rain.

As my eyes met his, I was pulled from my trance. My eyes fell to the sight of his hands wrapped around my dirt-smeared wrists, and I lost it.

“It’s gone!” I screamed as I fell into his chest, sobbing with the force of hollowness threatening to swallow me whole. “Gone…” I trailed off into sobs once more.

Bo released my wrists and pulled me tighter into his chest, keeping one arm wrapped around me as his other hand stroked the back of my head. With my ear on his chest, I heard the scream brewing, and when he finally let it loose, it was the only sound all day that had cut through the rain. His chest shook with hard sobs as he rocked me side to side.

Once the shaking of his shoulders calmed, Bo rose to his feet. I felt him slide the rain-soaked blanket in his pocket as he slowly lifted me in his arms before making the long walk back to the house. I think the rain had stopped, but I can’t be sure. Rainwater continued trailing from my hair down my neck, causing a surge of goosebumps over my skin with each drop.

Bo opened the door and kept moving up the stairs and all the way down to our bedroom, never once breaking his pace. I thought he was going to set me down on the bed, but he moved us into the bathroom, setting me down once we reached the tile floor.

“Can you stand for a minute?” His voice was shaking.

I nodded and he set me down. He pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the water, letting it run as he pulled my shirt over my head. Once it was off, I opened my eyes and met his. For the first time in twenty-four hours, we were staring at each other. It was almost too much to stare into the eyes that could have been mirrored in our baby. But I kept looking. For him, for us, and for my strength. I’d always found strength in his eyes, and now was no time to stop.

He brought his hands to my face and kissed me square on the mouth. Even his lips were trembling. I did the only thing I could do and kissed him back. I wrapped my hands around his neck and squeezed as hard as I could, needing to feel something other than emptiness.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’ll be out in a few minutes, okay?”

He pulled back his head slightly, looking down to make sure he was in my eye-line. “You sure?”

I nodded, leaning forward to give him a reassuring kiss on the jawline. I knew I was still bleeding some, and didn’t want him to see it. It would be bad enough that I had to.

Bo kissed me once more and left the bathroom, leaving the door cracked behind him.

I finished undressing and stepped into the shower, where I turned the heat up as high as I could stand it. I wanted so badly to slink down the wall of the shower and sit in the tub, letting the scalding water pellet my skin. But, I stood.

For me.

Once I was under the covers and Bo had left the room, I stayed curled up on my side, and prayed.

“Hi,” I whispered. “Um … we haven’t really talked since the day Rae died. Sorry about that.” I swallowed hard and clenched my eyes even tighter. “I don’t really know who I’m talking to, honestly. Bo thinks you’re one thing, and my parents say you’re another. Either way, I just need you to be real. Please.”

Bo

E
mber fell asleep quickly after her shower. I’d met her in the bedroom with tea, a glass of water, and her prescribed pain meds. She took the pills and drank the tea before falling into a deep sleep before Willow even arrived.

Willow swooped in and ushered me from the bedroom and into the kitchen, where she made me a dinner that must have been from the co-op cookbook, because it had the flavor of all the meals Ember cooked.

“Just eat,” she commanded as she fluttered around the kitchen, tidying up what little there was to tidy since we hadn’t been home more than a few hours.

I never thought I’d see Willow flutter, or in any sort of caregiving role, but there I was, being taken care of by my wife’s half-sister.

“What’s with all the mud on the porch and entryway?” she asked as she sliced and diced vegetables, putting them in different containers and stashing them in the fridge.

I told Willow what I could remember from that horrific scene, though it came out in bursts. It was like my brain was already blocking it out.

“Where’s the envelope of pictures and the little blanket?” She sat across from me with a steaming cup of tea.

“Shit,” I grumbled, reaching into my pocket and letting the muddied square fall to the table.

“Calm down, it’s okay. I’ll clean it.”

“No.” I shook my head. “I should … right? I don’t…” I sat with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what to do, Willow.”

Willow rose with ethereal grace and floated over to me, setting her hand on my shoulder. “Sit,” she commanded softly. “That’s what you have to do. Then, when you’ve finished eating, go to bed.”

“It’s only six,” I noted.

She cracked a small smile. “In emotional hours, it’ll feel like it's perpetually two in the morning for a while.”

I sat. She was right. I felt like I was in a drunken haze, but I hadn’t had a drop to drink. Though, in that moment I would have killed for some of my dad’s Scotch. I liked to savor that, though, since there wasn’t much left, and if I drank anything now, savoring would be the last thing on my mind.

Willow cleared her plate and reached for the blanket.

“What are you doing?” I asked, stupidly.

“Cleaning it.” She spoke softly with well-crafted sympathy.

I nodded, unable to swallow my food past the lump taking over my throat. As Willow stood at the counter, seeming to study the stains, I dropped the food from my hands and let my head fall to the table.

I tried to cry again, and I couldn’t.

I replayed the scene of a feral-looking Ember clawing at the dirt in the rain, screaming in primal agony as she pressed the only blanket of our unborn child into the semi-frozen ground. It was like something out of a horror movie, and I could only see it in flashes—one movement and then the next—as if my heart wouldn’t let me see it all at once.

I’d felt like a dad. For a few days I felt like a father, and had hope that I’d see the same glimmer my mom had in her eyes, or the dimple my dad had in his right cheek. For a split second of time, I thought maybe I’d feel the spirit of my sister as I held my newborn. Above all of that, I thought I’d rock to sleep in the middle of the night the human embodiment of my love for Ember, and hers for me.

That was all gone, now. And there was nothing I could do. There was no way I could have acted faster. There was no acting to be done on my part. I was just as helpless then as I’d been when Rae mounted that horse, or when my parents had left that restaurant.

Slowly, I rose from the table and trudged up the stairs. All I wanted to do was curl up with Ember and hug the pain away from her. I knew I couldn’t, but I needed to try.
Maybe more for me than for her at this point.
It wasn’t her fault I felt helpless.

I pushed the door open and found Ember in the same place she’d been when I left. Curled on her right side, her back was to me and her hair was tied in a loose bun on the top of her head. As she breathed, I watched the minuscule rise and fall of her shoulders. From this vantage point, you’d never know the living hell she’d been through in the last twenty-four hours.

I crept over to the bed and slid in fully clothed, not wanting to waste time undressing when I needed so badly to hold my wife. She didn’t move an inch when I wrapped my arm around her—the pain pills were pretty strong, especially for someone who doesn’t often take medication. For a few moments I got to listen to the wondrous sound of her breathing, thanking God that I had this woman in my life.

God.

As soon as the prayer of gratitude swirled through my mind, it was replaced by a gut-punching sense of anger and betrayal. I took several deep breaths, wanting to excuse those thoughts from my mind while I focused on holding a sleeping Ember.

Several minutes later, the rage was too much, and I felt like my skin was on fire. I tossed the blanket from me, careful not to disturb Ember, and I left the bedroom as quickly as I could, barely able to stand being in my own body.

Leaving the house, I stomped down the front steps. The rain hadn’t let up yet, and I didn’t know if it ever would.

“Hey,” Willow called after me as I reached my car. “Where you off to?”

“Just have a few errands to run,” I lied. “I figured I’d get them done before I crashed. Need anything while I’m out?”

I
hated
lying.

Willow looked up in thought. “No,” she answered. “I’m good. I’ll text you if I think of anything.”

She closed the door and I got in my car and closed mine, driving away with only one destination in mind.

The temperature hadn’t dropped below fifty all day, which I was thankful for as I ascended the stone steps of the church. With all of the water, it would have been an ice skating rink if it were much colder. Despite the anger coursing through my veins, I was glad that this church—the church that hosted the funerals of my parents and Rae—had an open door twenty-four hours a day.