Day Two: Forbidden Memories
Michaels shirt was crumpled and his trousers creased when he awoke on a small camp bed in Sara's room. The events of the day before had drained her - both emotionally and physically. He had told her he was proud of her but words couldn't express how proud. He had seen the heartache etched on her face when their son's heartbeat hadn't made itself heard on the foetal scan. And he had seen the tears that had ran from her eyes in rivers as she had given birth to a baby that would never grow up. He could hardly believe how strong she was and to see her sleeping now, so peacefully, made him believe for the shortest second, that what had happened the day before hadn't really happened at all. But then the heavy weight that pressed down on his heart reminded him of all that he had lost. Not only a son but a part of his wife too.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy and Michael needed air. He leaned over Sara and pressed a kiss to her forehead promising to come back. She stirred but didn't wake. He pulled his jacket from the hook on the door and left the room, closing the door gently behind him. He walked to the end of the corridor and the sight of a vending machine suddenly made him realise how thirsty he was. He rooted in his pocket and pulled out some spare change. He inserted the coins and winced as the coke can clattered into the container, the sound echoing down the deserted corridor. He popped the ring pull on the can and brought it to his lips. The coke tasted metallic but he didn't really care. He wandered round the dimly lit ward. It was very still and the odd sound that punctuated the silence seemed magnified to his ears. This wasn't how it was supposed to be he thought to himself. He had gone through so much only to be led to this moment in time. The world seemed to have abandoned him and as he stood alone, a wispy isolate silhouette on a desolate corridor. How could his world have fallen apart at the lack of a sound. One simple sound. The sound of a heartbeat. His son's heartbeat. He had heard it only twice, at the earlier ultrasounds but it was a sound he would never forget. It pounded in the back of his head. Somewhat like 2The Tell-tale Heart" he pondered. Although the sound did not provoke a feeling of guilt. Instead the heavy feeling of loss settled in some hollow part of his heart. He hoisted himself up on an abandoned gurney and leaned back against the cool wall, grey in the poor lighting. As the empty silence reverberated round him he became aware of his own breathing, In. Out. In. Out. It seemed a bit pointless to him. In. Out. Why could his son not do this? It seemed so easy. In. Out. He sighed and the anger that was rising in him like a wave fizzled out. Anger towards his own son would get him nowhere. He thought of his son, with his blue lips and thin curly hair. He smiled softly at the image of his son in Sara's arms. He vowed never to forget a single detail of that image. Even Sara's tears falling on the cold soft skin of the baby's eyelids. Sending him to sleep.
The harsh sound of a baby crying pierced the early morning stillness and jerked Michael from his doze. The first rays of the morning were creeping through the gaps between shadowy buildings colouring the world in hazy shades of blue. The burning red of the rising sun reminded him of Sara's hair and with a sickening jolt he realised he had left her alone for far too long. He took of at a brisk pace down the corridor forgetting the can of coke which sat abandoned on a lone gurney in a darkened corridor. An eerie image for anyone who cared to notice as they passed by. No one did.
She was still asleep when he returned. The first rays causing her hair to catch fire. It was splayed across the pillow. A glowing halo around her pale face. She was an angel in his eyes and he savoured the moment of beauty, storing it in his memory along with the image of her and his son. He strode to her bedside and took her slim hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. She stirred at the touch but her eyes remained closed. Michael let out a breath he hadn't realised he was holding as her features softened again with sleep. It was better that she didn't waken. Her face was peaceful as she slept. It seemed that the pain of their loss hadn't invaded her dreams. He was thankful for that. At least she would have them to escape to. He doubted he'd ever dream again. For the last two years his dreams had been filled with her. Hell who was he kidding! His dreams had belonged to her since the first time he laid eyes on her in that cold infirmary. He found it hard to believe that it had been over three years since he had been in Fox River. Sara had long ago forgiven him for what he had done but Michael couldn't quite forgive himself for the hurt he had caused her. And now look at what he had done. He had broken her and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to fix her. He hadn't planned for this. And damned if he knew how to deal with the situation. Sure, she was peaceful now but she couldn't sleep forever. Sooner or later she would have to wake up to this cruel world that had stolen their son. When she woke up she would break all over again and he didn't know how he would hold her together. And in the midst of all his despair, Michael's tears slipped heavy from his eyelids.
He awoke to her eyes staring at him with a piercing intensity. He blinked a few times to rid his eyes of sleep. He somehow managed a soft smile which she didn't return. Her eyes were dull and hard but he detected something hidden behind them. Something he couldn't yet identify. He slowly sat up and winced at the sharp pain in his neck. He reached up an arm to gently rub it before he moved his chair closer to the head of her bed. She was still looking at him. Not saying anything, just staring. It unnerved him slightly. He looked her straight in the eye.
"Sara?"
She blinked and looked startled as though her mind had just registered what it was looking at. He tried smiling again but she looked away and fixed her eyes on a spot on the wall opposite her bed.
"Sara, talk to me. Please!" he pleaded with her. She kept her face averted. He gently squeezed her hand.
"Sara, please. I need you", his voice was soft and on the verge of breaking. She turned to him, her eyes rimmed with sparkling tears.
"I want him back", she whispered as the tears spilled over her eyelids and trickled down her cheeks. He wiped them away with the pads of his thumbs but the tears didn't relent. He moved to sit beside her on the bed and she shuffled over to make room for him. He gathered her into his arms and she laid her head on his chest, her tears soaking into his cotton t-shirt.
"He was so tiny." she whispered.
"I know. His hands were so small. And his little fingers. Did you see the size of his fingers, Sara, they were so small!" Michael's voice, while soft, was rapt with awe for his son.
"He had your nose." Michael chuckled at her words.
"Yeah and your chin." Sara didn't smile. Instead another tear fell from her eye to his shirt.
"I want him back." she sobbed, "I want to see if he has you eyes. I want to teach him to walk, and to talk. I want to watch him grow. I want my baby back Michael!"
"I know, Sara, I know." he soothed, "I want him back too." He kissed the top of her head and held her tight as sobs wreaked her weak body.
They sat like that for hours, saying nothing. Every so often they would drift off to an exhausted sleep but would be woken by the silent nurses coming to check on Sara. Every time they opened the door the sounds from a world Michael no longer wanted to live in came through. Sometimes he would hear a baby cry and each time it would cut through to his heart. Sara hadn't eaten. But then again neither had Michael. Food was the last thing they thought about. Night had fallen when Sara spoke again.
"I'd already made memories for him, you know." Michael tilted his head to look at her but said nothing and waited for her to continue.
"He was going to take his first steps at Christmas. And for his first birthday I was going to make him a cake and I'd give him a bit and he'd get it all over his face. Chocolate. Chocolate cake. Yeah he would have liked that. And at Halloween I was going to dress him up as a ghost and we'd take him trick or treating. And he was going to wear little dungarees for our family photo. And he'd look great in all his school photos and we'd put them up all around the house even if it embarrassed him. And he'd have lots of friends and when he went to high school he'd have a really great girlfriend and I'd get on really well with her. And he was going to go to college and do really well and have a great life. It's not fair, Michael! He doesn't get his life and I don't get my memories. I used to dream about him and all the things we'd do together as a family. And now I have nothing. Nothing but hollow dreams. He's not here anymore and I feel so…empty." She let her head fall back onto his chest and he kissed her hair.
"you've got me, Sara. You've always got me." She nodded against his chest and sighed before falling quiet. They both sank back into their own little worlds of grief, yet clung to each other in case they ever needed rescuing.
Michael had memories too. He had spent hours during the last six months stroking Sara's stomach and imagining his child's future. He had pictured the pride on Sara's face as their son had taken his first steps or learned to ride a bike. He had felt the sense of fear as his son started school and sensed the elation as he won his first baseball game, or soccer match, or swim meet. He had seen it all. Had taken all the pictures. But in a cruel twist of fate he was being denied the memories he had so desperately wanted to make. They would have to start over. He looked down at Sara and wondered if she'd be stung enough to begin again. And that was when he made a silent promise, to his son, to Sara, to himself. He would make her strong again.