No…
My period is coming.
I look over to Elliot who is sound asleep beside me and then back up at the ceiling.
So close…
A hot tear rolls down my face and into my ear.
I get a vision of what our family could have been…
I screw up my face in tears and roll into a fetal position on my side.
My heart aches.
How do you let go of a dream?
I should wake Elliot and tell him but what’s the point.
I’ll let him sleep.
I get up and go to the bathroom and get out a sanitary pad and stare at it in my hand, I screw up my face in tears.
I slide down the tiles and sit on the floor. In the darkness, alone…
I sob in silence.
Elliot
I roll over and put my arm out to Kate, her side of the bed is empty. I sit up onto my elbows. “Kate?” I call.
Silence…
“Kate?” I get out of bed and go in search of her. “Kate?” I walk into the bathroom and see a pack of her sanitary pads on the counter and my heart drops.
Fuck.
I walk back into the bedroom and sit on the bed, I put my head into my hands.
I don’t know how to make this better.
For a long time I sit, mustering up the courage to find her. Trying to think of the right thing to say when I do.
We are nothing special, this happens to a lot of people, I know that.
It’s just a lot more real when you go through it.
How long has she known?
Why didn’t she wake me? Is this all about her, is it?
Suddenly I’m angry.
I march downstairs and out to the art studio. As I get closer I can hear loud music playing. Heavy metal shit music, I’ve never heard her play this before.
I frown. What’s going on here? I slide open the big barn door to see her splatting paint all over the painting she’s been working on for weeks.
Ruining it.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I scream as my heart hammers in my chest.
“Getting on with it,” she yells over the horrendous music.
“By ruining your painting?”
“It’s my painting.”
I storm over and turn off the music. “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me?” I yell.
“So I didn’t have to see the disappointment on your face even earlier than I have to,” she cries as if losing control.
I glare at her. “It’s all about you…isn’t it?” I sneer.
“Are you happy now?” she cries through tears. “Are you fucking happy, Elliot?”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You said all along that this was going to happen. Are you happy that—” she holds her fingers up to air quote herself, “—your destiny has called, Congratulations Elliot, you got it right again. You never wanted a baby anyway. Admit it.”
I screw up my face in disgust. “Don’t you dare.”
“Do what. Speak the truth?”
“Go to hell.”
“I’m already there,” she screams like a mad woman; she turns and picks up a whole tin of paint and hurls it at the canvas. “Get out.”
“Fuck. You.” I turn and march back to the house, I hear the heavy metal music blast back on.
Adrenaline is pumping through my body as I shower and get ready for work.
I am not being her punching bag for this fucking bullshit. I collect my things and storm to my car; I tear down the driveway.
I get to the T-intersection at the bottom of the driveway and come to a stop, I close my eyes, this morning couldn’t have gone any worse.
This is fucked.
Kate
Six days and six nights…
That’s how long since Elliot and I have spoken.
We both apologized for being horrible that morning, but that’s about it. The house has been quiet and pensive.
We sit at the dining table and eat in silence, no words, no laughter, just animosity swimming between us. It’s better this way, I know that if we’re nice to each other we are both going to fall apart.
It’s easier being angry.
“We go to New York tomorrow for Tristan’s birthday, remember?” Elliot sighs.
“Yes.” I nod, it’s the last place I want to be, but I know it will cheer me up to see everyone. I’m trying to snap myself out of this mood but I just don’t seem to be able to.
We go away next week so I’m hoping we both turn the corner; we’ve never fought like this.
Elliot collects my plate with his and washes them both up, he walks past me and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Good night, Kate.”
“Good night.”
I watch him disappear upstairs and I glance at my watch: 8 p.m. He’d rather go to bed than have to talk to me.
I exhale heavily, great.
New York.
The table is alive with chatter and laughter, family always cheers me up.
The kids are climbing all over the chairs, drinks are spilling and everything is chaos.
I’m so glad we came. After spending the afternoon with Emily I feel so much better, more like myself.
Elliot is sitting beside me and we still haven’t spoken but I know it’s going to be okay; we just needed some alone time to process everything.
It’s been a week from hell.
Our little family is staying at two, and slowly but surely I’m coming to grips with it.
Deep down I know Elliot is right, we can’t go on like this.
It’s no way to live.
I’m going to let go of any preconceived ideas of what my life should be. Throw myself into painting and our farm and enjoy my beautiful man.
Because he deserves my best.
“We’ve got some news,” Tristan announces.
The table falls silent.
“Claire’s pregnant.”
What?
My heart stops and I fake a smile.
“Six kids.” Christopher gasps. “Jesus, you two are serial breeders.”
The table erupts into congratulations and Emily’s sympathetic eyes flick to me.
“Congratulations.” I smile. “That’s fantastic news.”
Elliot takes my hand under the table and links his fingers through mine.
His act of kindness slays my bravado and I feel the tears welling behind my eyes.
Stop it.
He squeezes my hand as a silent comfort.
Don’t cry.
This is a happy announcement and I am happy for them, really I am. The other pregnancy announcements from Claire and Emily haven’t worried me before.
I roll my lips.
I just wish they were congratulating Elliot, calling him a serial breeder.
Don’t cry.
I can feel the hot caustic tears building and I need them to go to hell. I will not make this about me and cause a scene.
This is exciting, a baby is a gift.
Don’t cry.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I whisper, I get up and near run to the disabled bathroom, I close the door behind me.
They get six, we don’t even get one.
I lean my forehead on the back of the door, my open hands hold me up, my heartbeat sounding in my ears, the pain in my chest so sharp that I screw up my face in pain. Poisonous, jealous tears run down my face.
My breath quivers as I inhale, trying desperately to calm myself down.
I don’t want to be this person; this isn’t who I am.
“Kate.” I hear Emily’s voice. “Where are you, babe?”