First one-shot that will stay a one-shot. Didn't like the organization too much.
She should have kept it. Then she would have something to remember him by. She shouldn't have disposed of it, disregarded it as anything that would ever have become valuable. It was no diamond trinket, or lovely bouquet. It was more, but she was blinded by worry and guilt. She shouldn't have thought of it as a hinder to their relationship, their careers, their whole damn lives. She was 17, so naïve, so unaware of what the future held for them.
If she had kept it, maybe she wouldn't have felt so empty, so lost. Because the truth was, without him, she was nothing. She wasn't one, she was a half of two. But he was gone forever, and there was no going back. One minute they were happy, unaware of the ticking time bomb inside of him, and the next, he's in the hospital with an enlarged heart. He was a good man with too big of a heart for his own good. He didn't cavort with random whores every other week, like most married men would. He always made time for her, his wife, even on the busiest of days. And he always, dreamt of having a child.
She had cried until she had no more tears when she found out. She drowned herself in her own heartache. Her friends always offered her a shoulder to cry on. They left lasagnas and casseroles on her dinner table to make sure she would eat. They'd tell her that he wouldn't want his wife to being treating herself like this. But she wasn't his wife anymore, because dead guys can't have wives. Dead guys can't love. Dead guys can't be there to say everything is all right.
On good days, she could get herself out of bed. On bad days, she'd just lay there. Her friends thought it was just grief. She'd come around eventually, they'd thought. Time heals all wounds. But time hadn't healed the wound she'd cut herself when she was 17. Her friends couldn't be more wrong.
It wasn't just grief. It was worse than grief. It was pain, sorrow, fear but mainly regret. She was 35 years old, widowed and childless. She'd never have a chance again at either of those things time had taken away from her, but it wasn't like she wanted that chance if it wasn't with him.
The worst part was that she had nothing left of him. His favorite argyle sweater didn't smell like him anymore. His songs on the radio sounded foreign. Their house felt hollow, like no one had lived there in a while.
They'd thought they'd have forever to expand their family. All they needed was each other. But she'd found out the hard way, that when all you have is each other, you have nothing at the end.
She'd thought about what they'd done when she was 17 a lot lately. They shouldn't have. Maybe then she wouldn't be so lonely without him. She stares at the aged picture in her hand. The one she'd dug out of the attic. The one reminder of her mistake. The answer to what she'd thought was a mistake back then. Ironic how that solution was now a regret.
She tries to convince herself it was the right thing to do. If she hadn't of done it, then she wouldn't have made it big. No way would they've survived as a couple. But each time she comes close to remembering how worried she was back then, she just stares at the picture and all the regret comes rushing back.
It's getting later and she knows she's running late. She knows she has to face reality. She puts down the reminder of what they could have had, and pulls a simple black dress out of the closet. She had made her best friend buy it for her, because shopping for a funeral dress meant realizing there wouldn't be any more fun dates with little black dresses anymore.
She can't bear to toss out the reminder. But she knows she has to dispose of it somehow, just like she disposed of it, or else she would never get anywhere. So she slips it into the pocket of her dress. She rides sullenly in the car on the way to the cemetery. She gets out of the car and the first thing she sees is a giant whole in the ground, and her husband in a mahogany box next to it. People are standing in line to say their goodbyes. It's her turn. She kisses his cold forehead and whispers she's sorry for what she did. Then, she takes the almost 20 year old sonogram of their unborn child out of her pocket and slips it into his. At least he can be buried with it, so it won't haunt her. It'll give him company. He'll meet the baby she used to carry in her uterus in heaven.
She'd convinced herself and Nate that their baby deserved a proper life, with two hopelessly devoted parents, not two teenagers. So she went to the doctors and had a life terminated in ten minutes. It was for the greater good. She never looked back until now. It would've been fully grown by now. It would've been able to help her with the grief. It would've been playing football with him in the yard or making cookies with her in the kitchen. If she had kept it, she would've had something to remember him by. Another reminder of his existence. She shouldn't have had that abortion almost 20 years ago. She shouldn't have killed off the last remaining piece of Nate Black. Because Caitlyn Gellar-Black knows that pretty soon, her husband's memory will fade to black without it. And that, is a million times worse than grief.
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