Title: Shatterday
Rating: PG-13
Summery: The children are the future, but what happens when you have to
give up your future for your children?
The white hospital walls went up like icebergs and were just as cold. The contrast of plastic orange chairs to the titanium white walls and the smell of strong chemicals made his head spin. The bright lights made everything have an ashen hue and he knew she wasn't going to make it. He saw her through the small window in the wide doors as the doctors worked almost relentlessly on her, trying to save the baby. Only twenty years old with only her older brother left as her next of kin. They couldn't stop the hemorrhaging. She was bleeding out on the operating table and they couldn't do a damn thing without harming the baby. After more than an hour of trying to stop the floodgates, he saw them loose hope. He saw their hands tremble, he saw their movements slow down, and finally he saw her flat-line.
At exactly 12:34 am on Saturday, March 28th, 2009, Bright Abbot lost a sister and gained a daughter.
Ephram was just a corridor away, getting them both some coffee. It was a long day and it was going to be an even longer night. His friends, and friends of their parents came to support Amy when she was diagnosed with Aplastic Anemia halfway through her pregnancy, but even with all of them gathered in the waiting room, Bright had never felt more alone.
The air seemed thin, and he felt as if he could not get enough oxygen to breath. She didn't deserve this, he thought. She suffered too much to die so young. Suddenly, Bright was violently angry. Angry and powerless. She left him. She left him with this amazing responsibility that he had no idea how to deal with. She knew the risks. She made him sign the papers. What hurt the most was there was no one else. Everyone else was gone. He was left behind to hold up the fort, a solder left in the battlefield long after the war was over.
Bright saw the doctor coming toward him and cringed inside. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to know for sure. Not officially. Not with a signed and dated piece of paper that summed up his sister's life as if it was the end of some tearjerker movie of the week.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ephram come up to him with two cups of coffee. The strong smell of burned grains nauseated him even more. The doctor was talking, still covered in Amy's blood, but Bright couldn't hear him anymore. He felt the swell of anger reside and blindly reached out for Ephram's hand. He felt hollowed out and cold inside and Ephram's warmth was the only thing holding him together.
Rose Julia Abbott Born: March 28, 2009 12:34 am Weight: 7 lb 1 oz Length: 20"
"It's a girl," they say and bring out a little pink bundle. Ephram takes her, his face lighting up with a rare smile.
"Bright," he calls out, "look how beautiful she is." He cradles her to his chest, cooing over her. But Bright can't. He just can't look at her, knowing that this parasite ripped Amy wide open on its way out. He doesn't reach out. He doesn't touch her. He just tells Ephram that it's time to go home.
The ride home is silent and uneventful. It takes them exactly four stop lights and two stop signs to get from the hospital to their apartment. Bright knows that chances are Andy and Delia are already there, the never- ending fountain of support and comfort. The support and comfort that he does not need.
Rose is asleep in Ephram's arms, tucked against his chest and lovingly embraced.
Bright turns away.
Today is the day after the funeral and the world wants none of his pain. It's a sunny day with a perfectly cobalt-blue sky. Even though the sun warms his skin, he still feels cold inside. He wishes he could do something, the way Andy did. Carry out some obscure last request of hers. Like an assignment, a duty. Anything to ease the ache inside.
Ephram embraces him from behind, rests his head on his shoulder, silently sending his love, but it doesn't help anymore. Nothing does. Nothing seems to take away the grief of losing her. Her sunny smile, the curve of her neck, the way her eyes danced when she was happy. Her laugh.
Ephram says that it's okay to cry, but Bright can't. It's not that he doesn't want to, or because of some misguided notion of machismo, but he just physically can't. The tears won't come no matter how hard he tries. And so Bright just drifts from day to day, going to his job, picking up the groceries, cleaning up the apartment, feeling kind of dead inside.
People insist on asking him if he's okay. A silent, solemn look in their eyes and all he wants to do is reach out and hit one of them, maybe shake them, and yell at them to stop the charade of pity for his sake. Because he doesn't need it. All he needs is to have his sister back. Ephram understands. He doesn't question. And Bright will always be thankful for that. Ephram will just squeeze his hand, or kiss his cheek and Bright will know that there is someone else standing behind him, making sure that he will not fall.
Bright stays out late sometimes and Ephram doesn't ask him where he's been. Bright would never do anything to hurt Ephram anyway. He just wanders around town, sometimes going to a movie theater and watching the moving pictures pass before his eyes. It helps to keep his mind blank. It helps to keep his mind off of her passing. Sometimes he stops by the bar and gets a few drinks, but he never gets drunk. It would be too easy then, even expected. It pains him that people don't think of him as being capable of pulling through this. Sometimes he stops by Amy's grave. He doesn't bring flowers. He doesn't cry over the engraved letters. He just sits by the headstone and talks to her. It helps. He tells her about his day and how much he misses her. Sometimes he doesn't say anything at all; he just sits on the grass and remembers her.
After their parents died—four years ago, almost to the day—she was the one who dragged him out of the house and forced him to live his life again. She said that death stalks them, and he shouldn't fight the inevitable. Now it sounds kind of heartless, but back then he was glad to shove the guilt and responsibility of not living up to the standard of the perfect son off his shoulders. Off of his and right on to hers. Though he didn't realize it back then, she had to stay twice as strong for them both and now she, too, was gone.
Occasionally, Bright thinks of the cemetery as his home. Everybody he loves lives here.
But then he remembers Ephram and how his fingers dance over the ivory keys. And how, even with his eyes closed and lost in the music of the masters, he still strikes the perfect note.
Bright knows he's suppose to love her. She's Amy's little baby. But he just doesn't know how. The logical part of his mind he realizes that she's an innocent, but his heart... The stress of the pregnancy sped up the disease. They couldn't give her the pills because they might harm the fetus. They couldn't perform the bone marrow transplant because the strong hormones would probably abort the pregnancy. He knew that Amy went into this with her eyes wide open. She had all the information, Andy consulting her every step of the way. It just wasn't enough.
Surprisingly, the baby doesn't take too much space or time out of his life. Her crib is in their bedroom because Ephram wants to keep an eye on her incase she cries during the night. Bright is a pretty heavy sleeper so he doesn't hear her. Ephram is at home a lot, giving piano lessons in the evening and working on his great masterpiece during the day. Sometimes he plays to her, soft melodies that Bright didn't know Ephram was capable of. Ephram doesn't sing, but he whispers to her when he puts her to sleep and she, drowning out in her giggles, looks so much like a little Amy that it makes Bright's heart ache.
Ephram always cooks, but Bright never expects it of him. Although it is nice to come home to a warm meal and not just another round of frozen TV dinners as it was before they moved in together. Sometimes Delia stops by in the evenings, always bearing gifts. A new toy for the baby or some cool, new CD she picked up for Ephram, or just a few good rented movies that she picked up on her way to their place. Relaxed. One of the traits she shares with her brother. There are no expectations here; no need to perform or be a certain way.
After Delia leaves, Ephram turns off the lights and lights a few candles. They glitter above the fireplace, reflecting in the huge mirror mounted above it. He sits next to Bright on the couch, slips his arms around his waist and slowly kisses his mouth. Ephram tastes good and it has been such a long time. He threads his fingers in Ephram's hair and brings him even closer. He sucks on his lower lip, feeling luxuriously lost in the cascade of pleasure.
Suddenly, somewhere in the bedroom, a baby's cry pierces the comfortable twilight. Ephram gets up to tend to Rose and Bright falls back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.
A moment later, Ephram shows up, bouncing Rose on his hip.
"Sorry, looks like I'll have to take a rain check." He coos over her, bringing her to his chest. Right to his heartbeat. Bright looks on and then goes to blow out the candles. Suddenly the apartment plunges into dark. It's jarring. Ephram blinks, the white of his eyes shimmers in the moonlight. "Hey, you okay?" Ephram comes up to him, with Rose still fussy in his arms.
"Yeah, just peachy." Bright puts the candles back on the high shelf.
"You don't have to be all sarcastic. You just...seem a little off." Rose has quieted down, watching them both with her curious, large blue eyes.
"That's right, Ephram. I'm a little off," Bright snaps without turning around. It was the last straw. That kid was everywhere.
"I think I know what this is about." Ephram edges closer. "Bright, I know."
"You have no idea." He turns around. "You have no idea what it's like to hate the closest thing you'll ever have to a daughter." The rage is back and bubbling just under the surface. He feels his eyes moisten and he angrily wipes at them. He feels embarrassed and ashamed at his outburst, and almost instantly drops his eyes to the floor.
Ephram comes even closer. "Bright, I know you." He touches his shoulder, stepping into his personal space. "Bright, look at her. Go ahead. Look at her." He raises Rose up and she giggles, radiating even in a darkened room. "You don't hate her, Bright. You're just sad that Amy's gone. I know you guys really bonded after your parents died, but do you remember what she told you when she found out about her anemia and decided to have the baby anyway?"
Softly, very softly. Almost unaudible in the rushing of blood in his ears. "Yes."
"What did she say, Bright?"
"She said that she had anemia. And I thought how bad could it be. They'd just give you a little iron and send you on your way." He sniffs, and wipes his nose on his sleeve. "And she said that it's not that kind of anemia." Bright feels tired and he cries noisily, swallowing his sobs. "She said that she's gonna have the baby anyway. She said that all her life she was broken, and she was never gonna be okay again. So she wanted to have one perfect thing in her life." His breath hitching, "Sh...she never told that to anyone. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was just a lot to take in at the time."
"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize." He gave him a long look. "Would you like to hold her?"
Bright freezes. He feels his fingertips tingle. The little muscle under his eye twitches. Ephram slowly puts Rose into his arms, so slowly that it seems as if the action itself is simply an extension of the background. He feels her head in his hand. Soft, fuzzy hair. Warm skin so thin, he can feel her pulse. His hands are shaking, and he, scared to drop her, hugs her close to him. His breathing is coming out in shuddering bursts and the unnatural stillness of the room is making him dizzy.
"Bright. Bright, you're okay. It's okay. Everything is just fine." Bright lifts the little girl to his face. She smiles. He kisses her temple.
"Ephram?" he asks.
"Yeah?" Bright looks at the precious bundle in front of him.
"Can I put her to bed this time?" Ephram laughs. The good kind of laugh. The kind that comes deep from your stomach. He looks happy when he hugs him tightly. Him and Rose. Together.
And Bright... Bright feels happy.
The white hospital walls went up like icebergs and were just as cold. The contrast of plastic orange chairs to the titanium white walls and the smell of strong chemicals made his head spin. The bright lights made everything have an ashen hue and he knew she wasn't going to make it. He saw her through the small window in the wide doors as the doctors worked almost relentlessly on her, trying to save the baby. Only twenty years old with only her older brother left as her next of kin. They couldn't stop the hemorrhaging. She was bleeding out on the operating table and they couldn't do a damn thing without harming the baby. After more than an hour of trying to stop the floodgates, he saw them loose hope. He saw their hands tremble, he saw their movements slow down, and finally he saw her flat-line.
At exactly 12:34 am on Saturday, March 28th, 2009, Bright Abbot lost a sister and gained a daughter.
Ephram was just a corridor away, getting them both some coffee. It was a long day and it was going to be an even longer night. His friends, and friends of their parents came to support Amy when she was diagnosed with Aplastic Anemia halfway through her pregnancy, but even with all of them gathered in the waiting room, Bright had never felt more alone.
The air seemed thin, and he felt as if he could not get enough oxygen to breath. She didn't deserve this, he thought. She suffered too much to die so young. Suddenly, Bright was violently angry. Angry and powerless. She left him. She left him with this amazing responsibility that he had no idea how to deal with. She knew the risks. She made him sign the papers. What hurt the most was there was no one else. Everyone else was gone. He was left behind to hold up the fort, a solder left in the battlefield long after the war was over.
Bright saw the doctor coming toward him and cringed inside. He didn't want to hear it. Didn't want to know for sure. Not officially. Not with a signed and dated piece of paper that summed up his sister's life as if it was the end of some tearjerker movie of the week.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ephram come up to him with two cups of coffee. The strong smell of burned grains nauseated him even more. The doctor was talking, still covered in Amy's blood, but Bright couldn't hear him anymore. He felt the swell of anger reside and blindly reached out for Ephram's hand. He felt hollowed out and cold inside and Ephram's warmth was the only thing holding him together.
Rose Julia Abbott Born: March 28, 2009 12:34 am Weight: 7 lb 1 oz Length: 20"
"It's a girl," they say and bring out a little pink bundle. Ephram takes her, his face lighting up with a rare smile.
"Bright," he calls out, "look how beautiful she is." He cradles her to his chest, cooing over her. But Bright can't. He just can't look at her, knowing that this parasite ripped Amy wide open on its way out. He doesn't reach out. He doesn't touch her. He just tells Ephram that it's time to go home.
The ride home is silent and uneventful. It takes them exactly four stop lights and two stop signs to get from the hospital to their apartment. Bright knows that chances are Andy and Delia are already there, the never- ending fountain of support and comfort. The support and comfort that he does not need.
Rose is asleep in Ephram's arms, tucked against his chest and lovingly embraced.
Bright turns away.
Today is the day after the funeral and the world wants none of his pain. It's a sunny day with a perfectly cobalt-blue sky. Even though the sun warms his skin, he still feels cold inside. He wishes he could do something, the way Andy did. Carry out some obscure last request of hers. Like an assignment, a duty. Anything to ease the ache inside.
Ephram embraces him from behind, rests his head on his shoulder, silently sending his love, but it doesn't help anymore. Nothing does. Nothing seems to take away the grief of losing her. Her sunny smile, the curve of her neck, the way her eyes danced when she was happy. Her laugh.
Ephram says that it's okay to cry, but Bright can't. It's not that he doesn't want to, or because of some misguided notion of machismo, but he just physically can't. The tears won't come no matter how hard he tries. And so Bright just drifts from day to day, going to his job, picking up the groceries, cleaning up the apartment, feeling kind of dead inside.
People insist on asking him if he's okay. A silent, solemn look in their eyes and all he wants to do is reach out and hit one of them, maybe shake them, and yell at them to stop the charade of pity for his sake. Because he doesn't need it. All he needs is to have his sister back. Ephram understands. He doesn't question. And Bright will always be thankful for that. Ephram will just squeeze his hand, or kiss his cheek and Bright will know that there is someone else standing behind him, making sure that he will not fall.
Bright stays out late sometimes and Ephram doesn't ask him where he's been. Bright would never do anything to hurt Ephram anyway. He just wanders around town, sometimes going to a movie theater and watching the moving pictures pass before his eyes. It helps to keep his mind blank. It helps to keep his mind off of her passing. Sometimes he stops by the bar and gets a few drinks, but he never gets drunk. It would be too easy then, even expected. It pains him that people don't think of him as being capable of pulling through this. Sometimes he stops by Amy's grave. He doesn't bring flowers. He doesn't cry over the engraved letters. He just sits by the headstone and talks to her. It helps. He tells her about his day and how much he misses her. Sometimes he doesn't say anything at all; he just sits on the grass and remembers her.
After their parents died—four years ago, almost to the day—she was the one who dragged him out of the house and forced him to live his life again. She said that death stalks them, and he shouldn't fight the inevitable. Now it sounds kind of heartless, but back then he was glad to shove the guilt and responsibility of not living up to the standard of the perfect son off his shoulders. Off of his and right on to hers. Though he didn't realize it back then, she had to stay twice as strong for them both and now she, too, was gone.
Occasionally, Bright thinks of the cemetery as his home. Everybody he loves lives here.
But then he remembers Ephram and how his fingers dance over the ivory keys. And how, even with his eyes closed and lost in the music of the masters, he still strikes the perfect note.
Bright knows he's suppose to love her. She's Amy's little baby. But he just doesn't know how. The logical part of his mind he realizes that she's an innocent, but his heart... The stress of the pregnancy sped up the disease. They couldn't give her the pills because they might harm the fetus. They couldn't perform the bone marrow transplant because the strong hormones would probably abort the pregnancy. He knew that Amy went into this with her eyes wide open. She had all the information, Andy consulting her every step of the way. It just wasn't enough.
Surprisingly, the baby doesn't take too much space or time out of his life. Her crib is in their bedroom because Ephram wants to keep an eye on her incase she cries during the night. Bright is a pretty heavy sleeper so he doesn't hear her. Ephram is at home a lot, giving piano lessons in the evening and working on his great masterpiece during the day. Sometimes he plays to her, soft melodies that Bright didn't know Ephram was capable of. Ephram doesn't sing, but he whispers to her when he puts her to sleep and she, drowning out in her giggles, looks so much like a little Amy that it makes Bright's heart ache.
Ephram always cooks, but Bright never expects it of him. Although it is nice to come home to a warm meal and not just another round of frozen TV dinners as it was before they moved in together. Sometimes Delia stops by in the evenings, always bearing gifts. A new toy for the baby or some cool, new CD she picked up for Ephram, or just a few good rented movies that she picked up on her way to their place. Relaxed. One of the traits she shares with her brother. There are no expectations here; no need to perform or be a certain way.
After Delia leaves, Ephram turns off the lights and lights a few candles. They glitter above the fireplace, reflecting in the huge mirror mounted above it. He sits next to Bright on the couch, slips his arms around his waist and slowly kisses his mouth. Ephram tastes good and it has been such a long time. He threads his fingers in Ephram's hair and brings him even closer. He sucks on his lower lip, feeling luxuriously lost in the cascade of pleasure.
Suddenly, somewhere in the bedroom, a baby's cry pierces the comfortable twilight. Ephram gets up to tend to Rose and Bright falls back against the couch with an exasperated sigh.
A moment later, Ephram shows up, bouncing Rose on his hip.
"Sorry, looks like I'll have to take a rain check." He coos over her, bringing her to his chest. Right to his heartbeat. Bright looks on and then goes to blow out the candles. Suddenly the apartment plunges into dark. It's jarring. Ephram blinks, the white of his eyes shimmers in the moonlight. "Hey, you okay?" Ephram comes up to him, with Rose still fussy in his arms.
"Yeah, just peachy." Bright puts the candles back on the high shelf.
"You don't have to be all sarcastic. You just...seem a little off." Rose has quieted down, watching them both with her curious, large blue eyes.
"That's right, Ephram. I'm a little off," Bright snaps without turning around. It was the last straw. That kid was everywhere.
"I think I know what this is about." Ephram edges closer. "Bright, I know."
"You have no idea." He turns around. "You have no idea what it's like to hate the closest thing you'll ever have to a daughter." The rage is back and bubbling just under the surface. He feels his eyes moisten and he angrily wipes at them. He feels embarrassed and ashamed at his outburst, and almost instantly drops his eyes to the floor.
Ephram comes even closer. "Bright, I know you." He touches his shoulder, stepping into his personal space. "Bright, look at her. Go ahead. Look at her." He raises Rose up and she giggles, radiating even in a darkened room. "You don't hate her, Bright. You're just sad that Amy's gone. I know you guys really bonded after your parents died, but do you remember what she told you when she found out about her anemia and decided to have the baby anyway?"
Softly, very softly. Almost unaudible in the rushing of blood in his ears. "Yes."
"What did she say, Bright?"
"She said that she had anemia. And I thought how bad could it be. They'd just give you a little iron and send you on your way." He sniffs, and wipes his nose on his sleeve. "And she said that it's not that kind of anemia." Bright feels tired and he cries noisily, swallowing his sobs. "She said that she's gonna have the baby anyway. She said that all her life she was broken, and she was never gonna be okay again. So she wanted to have one perfect thing in her life." His breath hitching, "Sh...she never told that to anyone. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It was just a lot to take in at the time."
"Hey, it's okay. Don't apologize." He gave him a long look. "Would you like to hold her?"
Bright freezes. He feels his fingertips tingle. The little muscle under his eye twitches. Ephram slowly puts Rose into his arms, so slowly that it seems as if the action itself is simply an extension of the background. He feels her head in his hand. Soft, fuzzy hair. Warm skin so thin, he can feel her pulse. His hands are shaking, and he, scared to drop her, hugs her close to him. His breathing is coming out in shuddering bursts and the unnatural stillness of the room is making him dizzy.
"Bright. Bright, you're okay. It's okay. Everything is just fine." Bright lifts the little girl to his face. She smiles. He kisses her temple.
"Ephram?" he asks.
"Yeah?" Bright looks at the precious bundle in front of him.
"Can I put her to bed this time?" Ephram laughs. The good kind of laugh. The kind that comes deep from your stomach. He looks happy when he hugs him tightly. Him and Rose. Together.
And Bright... Bright feels happy.