Heyyy :) So I originally intended for this to be about 1000 words but really I think I just need to learn that every idea I have is going to grow into a beast. This is my take on Sam and Tom's wedding. I do hope you enjoy reading it, and I'd really love to hear your feedback as I think I've worked harder on this fic than I have on any other one. Love to all :) x
23 December 2013
I blink twice and sigh as I regard my reflection in the mirror. I can vaguely hear Zoe chattering away at me in the background but my focus is currently on the smudge of eyeliner I've just managed to get on my face. I've never been good with makeup. The first time around my mum had made sure I'd done it all properly, the church, the big white dress, hair and makeup done by a professional. I doubt she even remembers that I'm getting married today, she doesn't spend much time in the present anymore. Anyway I didn't want any of that stuff, neither did Tom. We had originally planned to have a slightly bigger wedding but when we found out I was pregnant two months ago we decided to just bite the bullet and get married in the register office, with Fletch and Zoe as our witnesses.
I glance down at my stomach, my bump not quite completely covered by the simple white empire line dress I've chosen and sigh again, this time it must have been loud enough for Zoe to hear.
"Right what's the matter?" she asks, her reflection joining mine in the mirror.
"Eyeliner," I say, holding up the pencil in frustration. I can't very well tell her the real reason for my subdued mood.
"Give it here," she replies, shaking her head, "If I'd done it in the first place you'd have been ready by now," she chastises jokingly, but I'm not in the mood for jokes.
She continues to talk at me while she cleans up the smudge and applies the eyeliner with a precision I'll never have but again I'm not really listening. My head is full of things I'd really rather not be thinking about but I can't push them out of my mind.
"Earth to Sam," Zoe says, and I jump as she waves her hand in front of my face, "are you alright?"
No.
"I'm fine, just a bit nauseous,"
It's not a lie, I am feeling sick but while Zoe will put it down to morning sickness in reality I'm sick with guilt. Tom and I had promised each other no more lies, how am I supposed to marry him today without telling him what happened?
"No pre wedding jitters? Cold feet?" she jokes, oblivious to my current mental conflict.
"Of course not," I reply, plastering a smile on my face and if Zoe sees through it she doesn't say anything.
"Are you sure you don't want flowers in your hair?" she asks, turning around and pointing to the red roses she'd threaded through her own hair. I'd warned her 2 weeks ago that it wasn't a dressy affair and that hats and fascinators
were off the cards. Still this was Zoe and of course she'd found a way to glamourise it.
"I'm sure," I say, rearranging my hair just a little bit. I'd curled it in soft waves this morning, Tom always tells me how much he loves my hair like that. I put on a thin coat of lipstick and then turn around to face Zoe.
"Okay?" I ask, my hands sticking out awkwardly at my sides, I'm not entirely sure what to do with them at this point in time.
Zoe looks at me for a second and I'm worried she might actually cry. That's the last thing I need.
"You look beautiful, Tom's a lucky guy," she says, and I feel another pang of guilt, "just a second,"
Zoe turns and rummages in her bag and seconds later she produces a small blue pin.
"It's old because I've had it for ages, it's new to you, you're borrowing it and it's blue," she smiles, holding the pin up so I can get a better look at it.
It's beautiful, a butterfly with sparkly blue stones set in the wings. I've never put much stock in superstitions but it strikes me because it's a butterfly, a symbol of metamorphosis, of change. A symbol of what this day should represent.
"Zoe you didn't ha-"
"Nonsense," she cuts in, "this is what wedding days are about right? Old traditions and superstitions,"
She reaches forward and pins the butterfly to the top of my dress, being careful not to snag the delicate material.
"There," she smiles again, "just one more thing,"
Zoe hands me the small bouquet of red roses and I'm grateful to have something to hold on to. It sounds stupid but I immediately feel more secure.
"Thank you Zoe," I all but whisper. I can do this, I think to myself. This is the happiest day of your life, start acting like it.
I check the clock on the wall, it's 11:28, we have just over half an hour to get across town to the register office where Tom and Fletch would be waiting.
"We should probably get going," I say to Zoe, who is checking her makeup again.
My stomach won't stop doing somersaults as Zoe pulls up in the car park. 11:45. Tom will already be in there, waiting.
"Wait a minute," Zoe says, as she gets out of the car, "it's raining, I've got an umbrella in the boot,"
I watch the rain patter down on the windscreen and think back to my grandmother, or was it my mum? Well one of them always said if it rained on your wedding day it was lucky. I hope that they're right, I need all the luck I can get.
"Come on then," I hear Zoe say as she opens the passenger side door for me. She's standing half in the rain, sacrificing her own hair and makeup to make sure I'm going to be completely covered by the umbrella.
I barely remember to pick up my dress before the bottom of it is ruined by muddy rainwater. It's an awkward half run to the entrance of the register office, hindered by my high heels and the ever increasing splashes of rain.
"Made it!" Zoe exclaims jubilantly as we step inside the grand building. I look across the hallway as Zoe attempts to shake the rainwater off of the umbrella. I can see Fletch poking his head out of one of the rooms, his signature grin plastered all over his face. I manage a little wave and a smile back at him. He jokingly points to his watch and shakes his head in mock disapproval before ducking back inside the room.
"All ready?" Zoe says, smoothing down the front of her dress.
No.
"Yeah," I say, taking a deep breath to try and calm my hammering heart. As we get closer to the room the sense of dread that overcomes me feels like it's drowning me. All of the guilt that I've been keeping locked away for this last month is threatening to come bubbling to the surface and suddenly I just stop, three feet from the door. My legs refuse to take me any further.
"Sam," Zoe says with a hint of amusement on her face, "you're not going to throw up are you?"
I shake my head, my grip on the bouquet in my hand tightening. I can't go in there. I can't start married life with Tom keeping this lie from him.
She must see the look on my face because her expression changes quickly from amusement to concern and she puts her hand on my shoulder.
"What's wrong?" she asks quietly
I'm still shaking my head but I can't get any words to escape past the burning lump in my throat.
"Sam,"
"I can't," I choke out, and Zoe's face goes pale.
"Course you can, it's just nerves," she attempts to reassure me, but no words can do that. I have to tell Tom the truth.
"No. I need to talk to Tom," I say, my voice is shaking but I force the words out anyway.
"Okay, okay," she says, putting her hands out in front of her as if to make sure I was going to stay.
She disappears inside the room and it feels like a lifetime before Tom comes out. There's no sign of Fletch or Zoe and I assume they've stayed inside to give us some privacy. I bring my eyes up to meet his gaze. He's dressed in a grey suit with a red rose in the buttonhole. He looks so confused and I hate myself for the fact I'm going to break his heart.
"You look so beautiful, so, so beautiful," he says breathlessly, his eyes wide, "this is supposed to be bad luck," he remarks, and I can hear the edge of concern in his joking tone.
I look at him for a second, savouring one last moment before I ruin everything.
"Tom," I whisper, "we need to talk,"
I see his face drain of colour at my words and the heavy feeling that's crushing my chest intensifies.
"If you're worried about this being too rushed," he says, his words tumbling out, "it's going to be okay, we're ready, we're okay," he reassures me but I'm just shaking my head in reply.
"Talk to me," he pleads, taking my hand in his, "you're scaring me,"
"We promised no more lies," I whisper and his eyes catch mine again and it feels like they're piercing through my very being.
He stays silent and I take it as my cue to continue, as much as I wish I could avoid saying the words that were about to come out of my mouth.
"It was a mistake," I say quietly, fear roiling in my stomach, "a mistake,"
He lets go of my hand, dropping it as if my touch has burned him but I know the worst part is yet to come.
"Iain," he says viciously, his eyes ablaze with fury, "I should have known, I should have known,"
"Please, please listen to me," I plead desperately, the whole reason I'm telling him this is because I don't want to lose him.
"It was after we had that fight, after the bridge collapse," I explain.
21st November 2013
I'd just had an earful from Zoe, I was tired and aching and covered in dust and grime and all I really wanted was to have a shower. But I knew I had to go and talk to Tom first. He'd looked absolutely furious when I'd come in with the paramedics and I suppose it's partly my own fault. There had been a bridge collapse on one of the A roads out west and they'd needed a doctor at the scene. Naturally I had got caught up in the moment and offered to go and it was only when I was sat in the rapid response vehicle that I'd actually remembered about the baby. At 8 weeks pregnant I probably shouldn't have gone, but the fire service had stabilised the bridge, I'd only been needed to administer drugs the paramedics couldn't. I'd thought it would be fine.
It'd been chaotic when we arrived, and one of the patients had already expired by the time the rubble was lifted off of his car. There was a lady trapped in the second car and she had become the priority. I'd been putting an IV line in when I heard the first creak. It all happened so fast and I don't really remember much it was such a blur. Jeff had dived in and grabbed me pulling me clear of the rubble as it fell. Miraculously very little hit the car and the woman did survive. But Dixie ordered Jeff and I back to the ED to get checked over.
The incident had been radioed ahead and Tom had overheard and gone mad. He'd shouted at Zoe, who through no fault of her own let me go on the shout and let slip that I was pregnant to her. It had put her in a foul mood and she'd pulled me aside as I walked into resus and demanded I let her do a scan to check the baby. After she'd confirmed that everything was okay I'd gotten a huge lecture about health and safety and liability. It was her place as the boss I guess but it had put me in such a bad mood and before I'd had to go and face Tom.
I'd found him in paeds resus, angrily stocking up some of the crash carts and though he must have heard me come in he didn't turn around.
"Tom," I said tentatively, but I'd already anticipated his anger.
"What you did today was stupid Sam," he replied quietly, but I could hear the anger in his voice
"I'm sorry… Tom look at me please,"
"Sorry doesn't cut it, it was irresponsible," he shouted, his anger finally bubbling to the surface.
"Look," I said, raking my hands through my messy hair in frustration, "it's just been so weird this past couple of weeks, everything's changing so fast, I just, I think I just wanted to feel like myself again," I tried to explain, it was the truth. Everything since the engagement had moved so quickly.
"That's just the point Sam, you can't just think about yourself, you're pregnant," he said venomously
"I know that… I'm sorry," I said, even though I knew it was going to take more than sorry to make it right.
"Whatever," he sighed, stalking out of resus and leaving me alone. He did that when he was too angry. He walked away until he'd calmed down enough to be able to deal with a situation. I usually preferred to get things out in the open but at that point I was too tired and too annoyed to try and reconcile with him.
I'd chosen to shower and change at the hospital, trying to put off going home for as long as possible. I was just being stubborn really, I knew deep down that it had been my mistake but Tom hadn't seemed like he was even willing to see it from my point of view. And I was still annoyed that he'd told Zoe. We'd both agreed not to tell anyone until I was at least 12 weeks. As I left the ED, bracing myself to go home and work it out with Tom, Iain rounded the corner and made a beeline for me.
"I heard you're a bit of a hero eh Sam?" he asked, giving me that same old smile.
"Hardly, it was Jeff who made sure I was safe, I just played the damsel in distress," i replied, shaking my head. Iain always made me out to be better than I was.
"You look like you need a drink," he said, raising his eyebrows expectantly. I knew that I really should be going home to Tom, but going for a drink with Iain seemed like the easier option. He wasn't the chattiest of people, and I'd thought that maybe sitting with an old friend would soothe my anger.
"Just one then," I agreed, and we turned and headed over to the pub.
"What'll it be?" Iain asked as we entered the cosy interior of the pub. My stomach flipped. I didn't want Iain to know I was pregnant, and I couldn't order something non alcoholic without him questioning it.
"I'll get them," I said, snatching his wallet playfully out of his hand, "go get a table,"
He narrowed his eyes at me and smirked, "pint of-"
"Bitter, yes I have known you for some time," I smirked.
As Iain went to get a table I ordered a pint of bitter and a non alcoholic wine, which to my dismay the barmaid told me they only had red. I never drank red but it would have to do, he knew I didn't drink spirits anyway. Walking back to the table, just as I'd expected Iain made a comment about my drink.
"You're a red wine kind of girl now Sam?" he asked, taking a sip of his beer.
"People change," I replied, swirling the red liquid round in my glass.
"You can say that again," he said quietly.
"And what's that supposed to me?" I asked, glancing at him over the top of my glass.
"You're just, you're different, that's all," he shrugged.
"In a good way or?" I questioned, although I had a feeling I already knew the answer. I had changed a lot since I'd been with Tom, I'd seen it in myself.
"You're less ballsy,"
"That's because I don't have to deal with your insubordination on a daily basis, that's Dixie's job now," I joked, trying to keep the conversation light. I'd agreed to come for a drink to feel better, not to start doubting myself.
"Are you happy?"
I stared at him in shock for a few moments at the fact he'd just asked me that outright.
"Of course I am, why?" I replied sharply. Yes I'd changed but I was still happy. But Tom and I were going through a lot of adjustments that Iain didn't know the specifics of so I gave him the benefit of the doubt.
"Because I've seen you happy," Iain said, "in Camp Bastion, you'd wake up next to me and you had that great big smile on your face and you LOOKED happy, when I look at you I don't see that Sam anymore,"
I shook my head softly, I could see what he was trying to do. It was all he'd tried to do since he came to Holby. I'd tried and tried to just be friends with him, but I was beginning to see that that might not even be a possibility.
"Iain," I whispered, "things are different now, I'm different"
And I WAS different. When I'd been with Iain in Afghanistan I'd been in blissful denial about my marriage to Dylan and the most pressing thing in my day was whether we'd get called out before breakfast. So much had happened since then. I'd shot and killed a man, my medical licence had been threatened, I'd gotten divorced. He should know this, he was around for most of those events.
"But do you remember it, how it was back then?" he asks softly and his eyes caught mine and for a second, just a second I remembered back to how easy it was. It's ridiculous to think I'd been that carefree in a war zone and that normality, that settling down seemed like it was trapping me more than enemy gunfire ever did.
I don't know exactly how it happened, but suddenly Iain's lips were on mine, it was so familiar, so comforting and by the time I finally came to my senses I had definitely kissed him back.
"No… stop," I said, pulling away sharply. It was at the moment, after my betrayal of Tom that I realised just how much I loved him. And I knew how much what I had just done would tear him apart. What a cruel twist of fate.
"Sam,"
"I'm with Tom, we're having a baby," I told him in a panic, my voice desperate and I saw his face fall at my revelation.
"I still love you," he said, grasping my wrist in an attempt to stop me from leaving.
"Iain… I don't love you. This, this needs to never have happened, if you love me you'll respect that" I grabbed my coat and left without saying a word.
I'd spent the night in the on call room, my mind racing at a hundred miles an hour, terrified that Iain would do something stupid and tell Tom. But he never did. My plea worked. And for a while it was fine, after Tom had calmed down he'd accepted my apology and I hadn't pushed for one from him because I was too terrified of having another argument and letting slip my mistake. We'd thrown ourselves into planning the reception. To make up for not having a big wedding we were throwing a big party the night before New Year's Eve which practically the whole ED was coming to. But as the days passed and the wedding date grew closer and closer the guilt began to gnaw at me more and more. I had thought that Tom would be better off not knowing, tthat that way it wouldn't hurt him. But I was realising that I couldn't bear the thought of standing next to him and making a promise while I was living a broken one. I loved him too much, he deserved the truth.
And now here I am, standing face to face with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with and he's looking at me with a mix of anger and disbelief and hurt on his face and I'm cursing myself for not having the courage to talk to him sooner.
"It was just one kiss, I'm so sorry" I say but I know that the fact it was 'just one kiss' is not going to make this any easier for Tom to handle. There's fury alight in his eyes and the intensity of his stare is unnerving me.
"And I'm supposed to believe that am I?" he hisses, and I can't help but take a step back at the ferocity of his words, "he's been all over you since he got here,"
"Tom please, you have to believe me," I plead, "honestly, it was just that one time. It meant nothing. Nothing," I can't blame him for being suspicious, if I were in his shoes, I would probably be suspicious too.
He scoffs and shakes his head, "I was so stupid. SO STUPID," he shouts the last two words and I can see people begin to pay attention to us. The door closest to us opens and Zoe sticks her head out. I pull my eyes away quickly, I don't want to see her face. God only know what she and Fletch must be thinking.
"Is that baby even mine?" he asks, and his words hit me straight in the heart. I feel the pinprick of tears in my eyes as I struggle to regain my composure.
"Of course it is," I say, my voice shaky with the weight of the tears I'm desperately trying to hold back, "of course it is. I would never do that do you,"
"Well it's not like you haven't got form, you cheated on Dylan," he says venomously and I close my eyes. It's my last line of defence before the tears fall.
"That was different," I choke out, but it feels like it's going to be impossible to explain it to him "I'm so sorry, I love you so much,"
"You love me so much you went running to Iain? You'll just keep running back to Iain," Tom says, ripping the rose out of his buttonhole and tossing it to the ground, "I'm not doing this,"
He takes off back down towards the entrance without another word and I turn to follow him, almost tripping over my dress in the process.
"Tom," I shout, and I'm past the point of caring what any of these people think of me, all I care about is Tom.
He ignores me and carries on walking. I'm aware of the sound of Zoe's heels, following cautiously behind me and I assume Fletch is with her but I don't look back.
"Tom, wait!" I shout, "I'm so sorry, please," I plead with him, but still he continues to ignore me.
I run down the steps after him, gasping as I'm hit by a torrent of cold heavy rain. It soaks me to the bone in seconds, my hair falling limply around my shoulders but I don't stop.
"Tom, please stop. Please," I beg him, shouting to be heard over the torrential rain.
He's already crossed the road by the time he finally stops and when he turns around he's crying. I can't see the tears on his face for the rain but I know he's crying.
"Why did you tell me?" he asks brokenly, "why today?"
"We made a promise to each other to keep no more secrets," I say, "I couldn't bear to marry you when I knew I'd betrayed that promise, you deserved to know,"
"I wish I didn't know," he says sadly, "I love you so much Sam, SO much. This was our wedding day,"
"I know," I say desperately, "I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry. It meant nothing. I swear. I told Iain straight away that nothing was ever going to happen. You have to believe me. Please," I beg, and I feel hot tears slip down my cheeks as the effort of holding them in becomes too much.
"I want to believe you, I do," he says but I don't dare to let my heart fill with hope, he looks so uncertain.
"Please," I plead, "all I want is for us to be a family, you and me and our baby," I say, "it took me a while to realise it, but I do Tom, I want it all. I want you, no one else. Please, just let's talk okay?" I ask tentatively.
"I want us to be a family too," he says and through my tears I think I can see a hint of a smile on his face, "we can talk," he agrees, and at this moment in time it's more than enough for me. He straightens his jacket and moves his hair out of his eyes and I stretch out my hand, waving him back over to me.
I see it first, he sees it a millisecond later. I don't think the look of shock on his face will ever leave me. He saw the car too late, by the time Tom tried to move out of the way the jeep had already ploughed into him, his limp body rolling up the bonnet and into the air. I hear him land on the asphalt with a sickening thud and I find myself frozen to the spot.
"TOM!" I scream, but I cannot move. My ears are ringing, like someone's fired a gun too close to my head and everything seems like it's happening in slow motion. I was trained to respond rapidly under difficult circumstances but just the sound of Tom's body hitting the ground had been enough to have me rooted to the spot, clutching on to the bouquet of flowers I still had in my hand.
Fletch and Zoe come running over, they must have been watching us from the shelter of the register office doorway. They don't hesitate to kneel down in the road to check Tom's vital signs. The driver of the jeep is sitting on the opposite kerb and a small crowd has formed, people wondering what the hell was going on. And still I cannot move. Everything just seems so surreal, I can hear sounds but they seem far away. My rain soaked dress feels heavy around my shoulders and it almost feels like I'm underwater, drowning in the weight of my disbelief at the situation.
I look around again, but something is different. Zoe is sitting by Tom, her head down so I can't see her face. Fletch is walking towards me and he's crying. I've never seen him cry before. Why aren't they working on Tom? I'd seen them start CPR, why weren't they doing it now?
"Sam," Fletch says, his voice sounds strange, like he hasn't cleared his throat in a while. He puts his arm around my shoulder and his touch seems to jolt me back into reality.
"What are you doing? Why aren't you helping him?" I suddenly find my voice and it's verging on hysterical.
"Sam I'm so sorry," Fletch says, choking back a sob as he speaks.
A feeling of dread washes over me at his words. How many times had I said that in the relative's room? How many times had I given that terrible news to people?
"No," I shout, and my feet finally move, and I run into the road where Tom is laying. I can see it and I know, I'll never unsee it. The unnatural angle of his head relative to his body, the bloody pink and grey mess splattered on the asphalt, he didn't ever have a chance of surviving.
I don't think I ever understood when people said that a broken heart hearts until now, there's an ache deep in my chest and I gasp for air as it threatens to overwhelm me. I reach out and touch his cheek. Despite the driving rain it's still warm and I keep my palm there and will him to just wake up.
"Please," I beg, though I know it's futile. This shouldn't be happening. 2 hours ago he was waiting to get married and now he's gone. Lying lifeless in the cold rain. And it's my fault. Tom is dead and it's my fault.
I can't help the sob that escapes my mouth, the shock is wearing off and guilt begins to drive itself into my soul. He'd been coming towards my outstretched hand, he was distracted because of me, because of what I'd told him and he'd forgotten to look before he crossed the road.
I killed him.
"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," I tell him over and over. I feel Fletch's arm loop around my shoulders again and he's trying to make me move but I don't want to, I just want to stay here with Tom. I want to make it better, but I can't. I can't ever make this okay. I shrug Fletch off me and continue to talk to Tom, oblivious of what's going on around me.
Eventually I hear the blare of the sirens. I know what it means. They're going to take Tom away and I don't think I can bear it. Fletch tries again to get me to move but I won't budge and they relent for a while as Jeff drapes his jacket over my shoulders. It won't make much difference, I'm already soaked through.
Finally they manage to coax me to move, but it's really only the exhaustion that's threatening to knock me out and the promise I can go with Tom in the ambulance that makes me relent. I watch, nauseated as they lift Tom's broken body onto the trolley and cover him with a blanket. I know they're doing that for my benefit, I don't think I would have coped with seeing him zipped into a body bag.
Jeff's jacket is replace by a blanket round my shoulders and I keep a firm grip on Tom's limp hand all the way to the ED. I don't want to let him go, I know they'll take him as soon as we get there and I find myself wishing that the journey will never end.
Tess is there waiting when Jeff opens the ambulance doors. "Sam," Dixie says softly, "you need to go with Tess and get checked out darling,"
I shake my head furiously. I don't want to leave him. But I'm exhausted and as Dixie gently manoeuvres me up and out of the ambulance I can do nothing to fight her and I stumble zombie-like into Tess' arms.
"Nice and slow," Tess says kindly to me as she steers me into through the entrance. Word has obviously travelled fast and I keep my head down to avoid the looks of pity and sympathy that I'm getting. I deserve none of them. Tess takes me to a quiet cubicle in CDU and gets me to sit on the bed. It's only now that I realise how cold I am and violent shivers are taking hold of my body as it tries to warm itself up.
"Let's get you out of these wet clothes," she says gently and I look down at my now ruined dress. It's stained brown and red and there's rips down the front from where I'd knelt on the rough ground.
"Can I take these?" Tess asks, trying to take the bouquet of flowers out of my hand. I didn't realise I still had them. I shake my head. I don't want to give them up, I don't want to take the dress off. I don't want it to be over.
"If we don't get you warmed up you'll get hypothermic," Tess reasons with me, I know she's right, but I can't. I just can't.
"No," I say defiantly, and Tess sighs.
"Yes," I hear another voice from behind the curtain. The fabric pulls back slightly and Zoe appears at my bedside. She looks dishevelled, her hair is soaking wet and she's wearing scrubs that are far too big for her.
"It's not just you we need to worry about," Zoe says and she sounds exactly like Tom. Tess looks confused and rightly so before Zoe fills her in on my condition.
"I'll get the scanner and some more blankets," Tess says, and excuses herself, leaving Zoe and I alone.
"Sam come on," Zoe encourages, "we need to get you and the baby checked out,"
The baby. Our baby. The baby I was now bringing into the world without a father.
She gently prises my fingers away from the roses, my fingers are cramped and sore from gripping on to them so tightly. Something happens when I let go of those flowers and I'm not sure what but it's like the final bit of resolve, my final bit of strength just disappears.
Tears I didn't realise I'd been holding in begin to run down my cheeks, making fresh tracks in the mascara streaks that have already dried there. Zoe moves to hug me but I push her away And wrap my arms around myself defensively. I don't deserve anyone's comfort. This was all my fault.
I don't even have the energy to be pleased when the scan shows that the baby is okay. I'm so exhausted with grief and guilt that all I can do is curl up on the bed. They try to get me to eat but I can't face the thought of food. I can tell that they're desperately trying to help me, they're searching for words to say that will make it better but nothing will, so in the end they cover me with blankets and leave me alone.
30th December 2013
It's the day of Tom's funeral. It's cruel really, this was the day we were supposed to have our big reception. Since Tom's mum and dad were paying for the catering, they'd decided to use it for the wake instead. They'd come to visit me just hours after he had died but I'd been in no state to see them. They didn't even know I was carrying their grandchild. I'd been unable to face them, so Zoe had told them what had happened, God that woman is so strong I don't know how she does it.
I still haven't spoken to them properly, I can't, the guilt is too much. How do I tell them that their son was killed because of something I had done? The driver of the jeep has been arrested, she was driving 60 miles an hour in a 30 zone and she's been charged with death by dangerous driving. I think everyone thought that that news would mean I would lift some of the blame from myself but that's not how it works. He'd never have been on that road if it wasn't for me.
I can't go to the funeral. I can't bear the thought of sitting there and watching his coffin disappear behind that curtain. Sitting there with his grieving family and our friends all the while knowing I could have prevented this. So here I am dressed in black sitting on a park swing. I've got numerous missed calls on my phone from Fletch and Zoe, and Tom's mum, but I've already told them I won't be there. They tried talking me into it, telling me I needed closure but they just don't understand.
This little baby growing inside me means I'm never going to get closure and I'm so conflicted. I'm so, so grateful that I still have a piece of Tom, that he's not completely gone but at the same time I just know this child will be a reminder of the things I will never have, the father they will never have, that I took away. How am I going to explain that?
It's later, much later when I finally stop by the crematorium. All of the flowers that people had sent for Tom are still set out on the ground and I'm a bit overwhelmed at just how many there are. Then I shake my head and chastise myself. Of course there's loads, everyone loved Tom. But no one as much as me.
There's a photo of him set in the middle of the flowers and
it's one that's captured him at his best. I see the cheeky grin across his face and my heart hurts as I realise I'll only ever see it in photos from now on.
"I'm so sorry," I whisper, and I've said those words so much recently that I'm almost afraid they'll lose their meaning, "I never meant for it to be like this,"
I place the single red rose I've been carrying at the bottom of his photo, against it I prop up a laminated copy of the scan Tess did in the hospital.
"I don't know if I can," I admit, tears stinging my eyes, "but I'm going to try and stay strong for our baby, I'm really going to try."
I kiss my fingertips and press them to the photo, "I love you," I whisper, "goodbye."
9th January 2014
I've been back at work for four days, a little earlier than Zoe wanted but I couldn't cope with being cooped up at home and she seemed to realise that I needed something to occupy my mind. Despite this welcome distraction, I'm not sleeping well at all and she has me confined to cubicles. Still I'm grateful, both she and Fletch have been so supportive, even when I was lashing out and refusing their help. Fletch had come over to pack up a few of Tom's things, and it had made it a little easier to sleep in our bedroom alone.
Guilt still overshadows my every waking moment and haunts my dreams but I've found that working helps to take my mind off of it a bit. Even though everyone is still tiptoeing around me, afraid that the mere mention of Tom's name will make me break into a million pieces and I can't help but wish they'd treat me a bit more normally, it would make it less awkward. Even Noel won't joke with me.
But I'm coping better than I'd hoped and I'm remembering the promise I made to Tom at the crematorium. I will try and be strong for this baby. If I'm being honest, the baby is all that's really holding me together.
I hadn't seen Iain until today, and I guess Zoe must have told him to keep his distance. She's not stupid, she overheard the whole conversation Tom and I had had in the registry office. But today while I was sitting in the peace garden on my break he'd come and sat next to me. The shouting match we had was hideous, but the more we argued the more I realised that I was just angry at myself. I told him I needed some time, a lot of time without him being around me and he seemed to accept it. I need to work through my own guilt, it's not going to work if I just try and pile it onto someone else.
Now as I'm stitching up an elderly lady's scalp laceration I'm finding the repetitive action a soothing balm against my earlier bad mood.
"Nearly done here Mrs Phillips," I say, snipping the last stitch, "I'll just get a dressing on that and you should be good to go,"
She smiles at me and takes my hand and thanks me for my hard work, "you young doctors work so hard, and you do such a good job, thank you" she tells me as I place a bandage around her head.
"You're very…. welcome," I reply, pausing mid-sentence as a cramp ripples across my lower abdomen.
"Are you okay dear?" she asks, frowning with concern, "shall I get someone?"
"I'm fine," I smile, trying not to worry. Stomach cramps are fairly common in early pregnancy and it's only been the one, "you're all done, I'll get a nurse to sort out your discharge form,"
I spend the rest of my shift pushing my worry to the back of my mind. We're swamped with minor injuries and it's distracting enough on shift that I don't think about it until I get another cramp. It's stronger this time and my heart drops with fear. I leave the patient I'd been bringing through to cubicles with a nurse and run to the toilet. There's barely time to lock the door behind me before I'm doubled over with another cramp. This one is so strong that I know that something is wrong. I look down and there's blood, too much blood. I can't help myself as I crumple to the floor, I know I'm losing the baby.
I didn't think my heart could break any more than it had but it does, that same ache in my chest is back, but stronger this time. This time I know it's final. I don't have the strength to move or call out for help so I curl up trying to brace myself against the now constant pain in my lower abdomen.
It's Robyn that finds me and she panics when she can't get the door open. I think she panics more when looks under the door and sees that it's me.
"Can you try and unlock the door Sam?" she says, "I'm going to get some help, I'll be right back"
I've been here for so long and I'm so tired that it takes all of my strength to reach up and flick the lock open. I lean back against the stall and wait for her to come back.
I must have passed out because the next thing I know I'm lying on a bed in resus staring up at the ceiling. There's an IV line in my arm and the pain my abdomen is distant, numbed by painkillers. I look around, attempt to push myself up but suddenly Zoe appears and gently holds me by the shoulders.
"Steady, your blood pressure is still low," she informs me and I can see it on her face. The news she's dreading giving me.
"I lost the baby," I say, it's a statement, not a question but she answers it anyway.
"I'm so sorry Sam," she says, tears glistening in her eyes, "there was nothing we could do," she pauses for a moment before she continues, "there's a doctor coming down from obstetrics, you might need a D and C," she says, but I'm not really listening anymore. I'm still feeling woozy and it's a welcome relief from the crowded noisiness of my head.
10th January 2014
It's absolute torture being up here on obstetrics. I keep hearing crying babies and it's just a cruel reminder that I've just lost mine. I thought I knew grief when I lost Tom, but this runs so much deeper. Just like that, my last piece of hope is gone. The last piece of Tom that I was clinging to is gone forever.
I hear a knock at the door and look around to see Zoe standing in the doorway.
"Can I come in?" she asks quietly and I nod, "how are you feeling?"
"Sore," I answer simply. I know that's not really what she was asking but I'm not in the mood to talk.
Zoe produces a card from her bag and hands it to me, "It's from everyone downstairs, Robyn's idea," she tells me.
I give her a small smile and set it on the table by my bedside. I don't want to open it now, it will probably make me cry and I've done enough of that.
"I'm so sorry," she says and her face is a mask of sympathy.
"It's okay," I reply shakily though my head is screaming at me that it's not okay. I keep going over it in my head, if I'd been eating properly, getting enough sleep, maybe this wouldn't have happened. This was another thing that was my fault.
"This is not your fault Sam," Zoe says firmly, as if she can read my thoughts, "this is a horrible, random thing, a cruel thing, but it's not your fault,"
"Maybe," I sigh, but I don't believe her, "I need to get out of here,"
"I can speak to the ward sister, see if I can get you moved somewhere quieter," Zoe offers, but that's not what I mean.
"I mean away from Holby," I say quietly, I can't bear the thought of even going back to the flat Tom and I shared. There's nothing left for me here. It's too painful, too many memories of what I could have had.
"You can have all the time you need," Zoe says kindly, but I can tell she knows she's clutching at straws.
I shake my head, "I have enough holiday to see out my notice,"
"Are you sure you don't want some time?" she asks. She reaches out and holds my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and I'm surprised at the comfort it actually brings.
"I need to leave," I confirm and I can feel tears welling up in my eyes. I blink them back furiously. I don't want any more tears.
"Where will you go?" Zoe asks me, and I realise I haven't even thought that far ahead. I don't really have anywhere, everyone I know is either in Holby or in the army. My mum doesn't even know who I am most of the time.
"I don't know… somewhere safe," I tell her with a small smile.
15th January
I cursed as the wet grass gave way under my feet. I hadn't intended to get here so late but the sky had grown dark before I'd even figured out where I was supposed to go. I'd left Holby in such a rush that I'd only taken with me what I could carry. I knew I'd have to go back and sort out the flat but right now I just needed to get away. And that's what I was doing in Lincoln, the other side of the county to Holby. Using my phone as an unsatisfactory torch I managed to navigate my way down to the riverside. When I reached the right boat I had a sudden wave of panic, I'd not called ahead, just turned up in the hope that I'd be let in. I had nowhere else to go.
Trying to remember to best way of boarding a river boat I haphazardly stepped onto the deck, causing it rock more than I'd have liked. The door was open before I even got there to knock.
"Hello Samantha," he greeted me, in that familiar tone.
"I'm sorry," I babble, forgetting to even greet him back, "I had nowhere else to go, I've lost-"
"Zoe called me, it's okay," he cuts in, stepping aside to let me in out of the frigid January air.
"Zoe?" how?
"Yes you know, about this high, bossy, smokes a lot," he quips, and I'm relieved to find he's the same old Dylan.
"You know?" I ask incredulously, the whole journey here I'd been worrying about what to tell him, it felt like a giant weight had been lifted.
He nods solemnly and the look on his face brings me to tears. I shake my head, willing them away because Dylan hates tears. But he just opens his arms wide and lets me fall into them, 3 weeks of grief and exhaustion pouring out of me as I finally allow myself to be held. He won't say anything, he's not a man of many words and I've heard them all before. Right now he's just my safe harbour and that's everything I need.
Hope you enjoyed reading this, weird as it was. Thanks for reading :) Please leave a review if you have the time :)