Week Three: Peter & Alicia—Part II
It felt as if time was standing still. As if life was floating around her in a reverie paradigm and she was the axle, helplessly watching it spin out of her control. She clutched the kleenex tighter in her hand as she tried to ignore the dryness that had begun to coat her mouth. Her tongue lay dormant, refusing to move even a minuscule and enable her to speak. That familiar paralysis which had kept her in an emotional jail for years, was back. She needed to talk about those losses. There was no denying it. They had killed a piece of her that she longed to recover. A piece that not only damaged her soul, but also damaged them.
"Alicia?" said Adam, her extended silence causing both men to stare at her, worried.
She blinked rapidly, attempting to focus her gaze as she stared at him like she was seeing him for the first time. So lost in her own thoughts, she forgot he had been waiting to hear about a time that made her question everything she believed in. Licking her lips, she folded her hands together and inhaled a deep breath.
"I lost two babies, on two separate occasions."
She peered down at the detailing of the carpet as she began to recall.
"The first time it happened, we had been trying for months to get pregnant, desperate to add onto our little family tree." She faintly smiled at the fond memory. "It was a last minute choice for sure. Our kids were practically on the cusp of entering young adulthood. But after an accidental scare, I never realized how badly I wanted another baby until that moment. Peter was more than willing to jump on board."
She glanced to her husband whose silent demeanor matched her own somber bearing. He wanted to reach out and hold her hand, to slide across the couch and crush her into the safety of his embrace. They needed to feel each other right now, no matter how much she had convinced herself he should remain at bay. It was hard to sit here and do what she wanted without asking, but he would respect her space as she took the first step in healing.
Adam reclined back in his chair, intrigued to hear this narrative. As much as he could, he did not want to interrupt because he was certain, the most difficult patient between the two of them, was now making a breakthrough.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she balled the tissue in her hands as she swallowed hard, continuing on even though she wanted to do nothing more than flee from the room.
"It was hard for us to get pregnant, to say the least."
"But we had fun trying," Peter whispered, his tone gruff and just as emotionally laden as hers.
"We did," she said hollowly. "Because we were getting older in age, we initially thought it was Peter who was the issue. Being that he is nearly ten years my senior, a series of tests quickly ruled out that he was not the problem. The harsh reality was simply that we were older. And probably out of our minds," she laughed.
Peter continued to watch her, his heart racing as those same buried feelings rose in him with every word she said.
"But that didn't stop us," she carried on. "We were determined to get pregnant. By some miracle, we finally did." She began to twirl her wedding band as an inexplainable coldness washed over, making her feel as if she would begin to shake. Telling herself to remain strong and not flounder was becoming more and more difficult. "We attended a charity gala that night on the day we found out. I was six weeks along and didn't even know it. We were thrilled. Life was finally perfect and we felt like the world was ours again."
Her gaze darkened as she bit her lower lip and tried to control the slight shaking of her hands.
"What happened after that night?" Adam asked.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she closed her eyes and tried to suppress the heart wrenching sob that threatened to escape.
Removing his glasses, Adam dangled the frames within his fingertips as he leaned forward, mentally rehearsing the steps that therapists enlisted when they felt their own feelings would potentially cloud a situation. He felt for her as she recounted this unfortunate ordeal, but at no point could he allow himself to feel emotionally swayed from her words. No matter how much the father in him wanted to offer some sort of solace to this destroyed woman sitting on that couch.
He tried again. "Alicia, if you don't want to continue at this time—"
She dabbed her eyes as she shook her head. "No." Her voice trembled, resembling more of a plea when she spoke. "I do. I need to."
Inhaling an unsteady breath, she proceeded in as much of a controlled voice as she could muster.
"Exactly eight weeks later," she bit the inside of her cheek, exhaling a slow breath, willing herself to finish the story as the horrifying recollection swallowed her whole. "I-I woke up on a Saturday morning…and things had changed. I woke up in pain. I tried my best to ignore it and thought it would pass, and if it did, I would just bring it to the attention of my obstetrician during my appointment that following Monday." She sniffed back more tears as she blotted her eyes. "But the pain never went away."
Adam sat upright and slipped his glasses back over his eyes as he continued to study her. She was emotionally broken in every sense of the word. This woman had experienced a great loss and demise of her marriage in a very short duration of time. No wonder she was closed off and like a bomb waiting to explode. Life had killed her in ways she wasn't ready for.
"The pain was so intense that…"
Peter couldn't sit there another second watching her unravel this way. He had to do something.
"Honey," he whispered, his eyes pleading with her to stop.
She looked at him briefly, his muttered affection wanting to make her curl into a ball and cry until she had nothing left.
"I'm fine," she said. Straightening her back against the couch, she pressed on. "When I climbed out of bed that morning, the pain began to remind me of being in labor, disabling me to stand as I realized what was probably happening inside my body. My world turned upside down. At that time, I was fourteen weeks pregnant."
Leaning her head back, she blinked away tears and tried to push the image from her mind of the first time they saw their little nugget during an ultrasound appointment.
"Peter didn't know what was happening at first. Between my hysterical crying and him trying to calm Zach and Grace down from seeing me that way, the reality of what happened didn't sink in until he crouched on the floor with me beside our bed, trying to get me to calm down as I…as I…"
Her eyes clamped shut as she dropped her head and shielded her face with her hand. The visual of their fifteen-hundred thread count, ivory sateen sheets drenched in a small pool of crimson, threatened to sap whatever was left of her will to sit here and bare herself this way.
"….as I grasped the sheets, trying to bring our baby back to life."
"Alicia."
This time, Peter didn't hesitate to reach for her hand, but she pushed him away, again.
"No, Peter. Don't. Just don't."
Adam wondered if they had ever talked about this until now. Her continuance in pushing him away led him to believe that they had not. That she had been carrying this grief around for so long and hurting for so long…alone. Why did she not permit her husband to be there for her in a time she desperately needed him? Why did she not allow them both to grieve this terrible loss together?
"Alicia," Adam gently prodded, "You said you were fourteen weeks at the time of the miscarriage. At that stage, the fetus has usually developed—"
"I know." She nodded fervently, wanting to block out all memories that their baby had any signs of life. "Peter took me to the hospital because I was losing so much blood. My doctor told me that I was experiencing a complicated, late miscarriage caused by a cervical weakness due to my age." She looked at Peter before zoning her red-laced eyes back on Adam. "They wheeled me into surgery to remove…the rest…of the…"
She tucked her lips into her mouth as she shook her head, refusing to shed another tear.
"Alicia…honey, stop."
Gazing into his own harrowing eyes, an involuntarily sob rushed past her lips. She remembered the expression on his face, resembling just as it did then now, when she screamed at the top of her lungs on the hospital gurney while the nurses forced an oxygen mask over her face, trying to get her to calm down as they prepared for surgery. She pleaded with Peter then, to not let them take their baby, to do something to stop them, to not allow the inevitable to happen. He stood by, lost and helpless, as she continued to beg him through her tears. In the back of her mind, she knew that he was helpless in the matter. He had no power over the situation. It was either they removed the remainder of the fetus or she would bleed to death. She beseeched him until she was unconscious to save their child.
He didn't listen.
"On that day, they took my baby from me. My child was ripped," her words were filled with insurmountable hate, "from my body. And five months after that," she slowly lifted her head, daring to hold it high, "I lost another baby. I lost two babies, within ten months."
Staring at Adam, who was looking at her with the most sincerest eyes, and then to her husband, who seemed as if he was dying inside just like her, resulted in everything hitting her at that moment. Her strong facade crumbled in seconds as she covered her mouth, attempting to silence her weeps and jumped up from the couch.
"Excuse me," she mumbled, disappearing into the side bathroom, which was adjacent to the bookcase.
Adam watched her retreat and then looked back to Peter, who gaped at the shut bathroom door, completely at a loss for words. Clearly he was feeling the same as him. No words seemed appropriate to describe what he had just heard except: Wow. He didn't know how to respond to the severity of her confession so quick. He certainly was not expecting that, or for her to share as much as she did. It all slowly began to make sense for him. No wonder they were in this current state of despondency while teetering on the edge of recovering what was defunct. They had experienced a loss and betrayal in a given time frame that most couples don't experience in a lifetime, or even in such a short amount of time.
"I'm going to go check on her," said Peter as he began to rise from the couch.
He sat idly while she had her moment, struggling to resist the urge to catch her as she free-falled into the abyss of suffering.
"Peter, it's alright. It's barely been a minute. Give her a moment."
Adam could see he wanted so badly to go to her. To be there for her now as she didn't allow him then. But going to her right now, when she was emotionally naked, was not a good idea.
"I can't just sit here."
Adam nodded slowly. "I understand. I know you want to comfort her. But if she didn't want you to do so while she was sitting there beside you, I don't think she would now. She just needs a minute alone." He laid out his hands, as if showing him the pro's and con's of acting on his impulses. "Let's give her that."
He glanced at his therapist, seeming to consider what he said, before he decided to hell with it and acted on those warned impulses. Getting up from the couch, he walked the short distance to the ebony wood trimmed, frosted glass door and knocked lightly.
Adam lowered his head and shook it, knowing everything, the strong progress that was just made, was about to go downhill.
"Alicia?" He jingled the stainless steel doorknob. "Baby, are you alright in there?"
He was mindful to keep his tone of voice soothing and gentle. He felt at a complete loss being on the other side. That urge to protect her, to hold her in his arms until everything was alright again, had him rooted outside of the door, hoping that she would open it any second.
Alicia stared at her blood-shot eyes in the mirror, then to the closed door in the reflection. She had come in here to splash water on her face and attempt to clean up, to make herself look somewhat presentable before going back out there. That plan failed. For when she closed the door and turned around, her eyes rested on the toilet, generating both instances of each miscarriage to flood her mind. She remembered returning home from the hospital after the first, remembered how her breasts continued to leak of milk for a week and how she bled for two more weeks. She remembered how she would lay awake at night, unable to sleep from trying to envision the tiny flutters in her belly that she had grown accustomed to feel. All were painfully vivid reminders of the life that she was carrying inside of her just days before, and then, it was just...gone.
"Alicia, talk to me," pleaded Peter.
Snapping back to the present, she pictured him on the other side, of how he must look. She knew he was desperate to fulfill a role he had practically begged her to those years ago, and even now, she wouldn't let him. It wasn't fair, but it was the only way she knew to protect herself until she was ready. Wiping her eyes with the cool towel clenched in her hand, she inhaled a deep breath and brushed her hair back from her face. She had to go back out there. No matter how much she wanted to stay in this room and just be alone, she had to face the music. Tossing the towel in the waste bin, she smoothed a hand down her stomach as she journeyed back outside.
It felt like years had passed for Peter when she finally opened the door, her sad eyes no longer mirroring hurt, but annoyance and dare he say…anger?
"Don't call me, baby," she snapped and brushed past him.
He stepped back, aghast. What is wrong with her?
"Are you alright?"
"Im fine, Peter." She settled back onto the couch as he followed suit.
Adam scrutinized their actions, wondering himself what had caused such a switch in her attitude. If he had to guess, he would attribute it to a common emotional, primitive defense mechanism. When patient's felt—during therapy—too enveloped in an unwanted period of their lives, they would often dissociate from those feelings and sometimes that memory altogether by adopting a completely opposite behavior. He could recognize that's what she was doing. She wasn't an individual whom was comfortable with expressing her innermost feelings. She had done her part; she had sang her song. She had let him see a piece of who she really was. And now, she was deflecting. Dissociating herself with that weak woman by reverting back to the angry and compartmentalized individual he met during their first session.
Flipping open his notepad to a fresh page, he eyed them over the brim of his glasses.
"Are you really alright, Alicia? Are you sure you feel fine to continue the session today? I know how hard that was for you to talk about."
She nodded in assurance. "I'm fine."
Peter stared at her like she had lost her mind. She was now composed and alert, a far cry from his wife that sat here just minutes ago, an emotional mess. What did she do in that bathroom?
"Okay," Adam said slowly. "If you're sure. Then I would like to discuss what prompted you to share your miscarriages. You said that your mother-in-law questioned your role as a mother because of them. Why did she do that?"
"Jackie felt like Peter needed another son. Actually, she told me he wanted another son. And because I suffered two miscarriages, she questioned whether I was capable of being a suitable wife to him…of being a proper mother to our children."
Peter angled his body to face her as he looked at her, his mouth hanging open, struggling to process this revelation.
"But Alicia, you said that she didn't question your child bearing abilities. I'm sorry, but I'm not following how she was suspicious of your role as a mother."
She licked her lips and folded her arms, resting them across her stomach. "After the first miscarriage, I was a shell. I…suppose some might say I was in a temporary depression. Once I lost the second baby, I was somewhat detached for months. I think she more so questioned my mental ability to handle—"
"When did she tell you that?!" Both of them looked at him, surprised at his outburst. "I never said I wanted another son." He sucked his teeth and shook his head, obviously skeptical of her accusation. "My mother did not tell you that."
Is he calling me a liar? Whipping her head around to face him, she laughed in disbelief.
"How would you know, Peter?! You were too busy screwing other women to know what was happening at home!"
Lowering his head, he held it in his hands, wondering when she would stop going back there. He was beyond tired of this argument.
"Alicia, don't bring that up again. That has nothing—"
"When was the first time, Peter?"
Her voice shook, reflecting in a trio of fear, hurt and rage. She couldn't stop herself. His assertion reminded her of all the times that she cried herself to sleep at night, wishing he was there to hold her. The crushing admission was that she was fully aware she was the one that had pushed him away. That was still hard for her to acknowledge.
"Huh?" Facing him, she felt her heart increase it's pace as the anger charged through every bone in her body. "Was it after I lost the first baby? After I denied you sex twice in one night?!"
She no longer cared that Adam was sitting there. She had been careful to reveal only so much in these sessions. Careful in not letting herself truly be emotionally raw to him…to a stranger. But after sharing the experiences of her miscarriage, there was nothing left to hide. She had bared it all.
Peter looked at her and began to loosen his tie. Leaning forward, he linked his fingers together and breathed deeply, determined not to strike back.
"Let's not go there. Especially now."
Unfolding her hands, she scooted towards the edge of the seat and narrowed her eyes on him. When he looked at her, his sad and remorseful eyes caused her own to brim with fresh tears as the betrayal encased her heart.
"Why not? You don't want to admit to Dr. Lewis how much of a sick bastard you are? That while your wife was mourning the loss of your babies, you went out and spent sixty-three thousand dollars on another woman for sex while I was shut down in a state of grief?!"
Adam's eyebrows rose so high he was certain they touched the ceiling at this information revealed. He had known Peter's infidelities were bad. But the grave extent of his actions that were unveiled with each passing session, even he could not have guessed the destruction.
Peter chuckled, not believing the words she just said. He was not alone in this.
"Shut down or should we say doped up, Alicia?"
Her head slowly pivoted to face him again, her mouth hanging open and eyes wide.
"Yeah," he nodded as he leaned across the space, closer to her. "You thought I didn't know you were addicted to pain killers?"
Her eyes fluttered, not believing he had said what she thought he did. But when he continued to sit there, not saying anything, it was then that she felt the sinking feeling in her gut, realizing she had heard right. That was a time in her life she had wanted to forget. She couldn't believe he brought that up.
"I was not addicted. The surgery had me in pain for weeks! You knew that. I could barely use the bathroom without your help."
"For a few weeks. Not months, Alicia! Not for two months after you had the first miscarriage. It got so bad you couldn't get through the morning without having your daily dose of morphine."
She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. He knew that? Or was she just too high then to register that he noticed?
Never before in her life had she hit rock bottom until then. Sure, she had experienced her share of disappointments, and had learned over the years to suck it up and move on. But never had she hit the lowest of lows once she lost her babies. Everything that she thought was real and true, had been shattered. Even the love of her children couldn't rescue her from the failure and heartache that consumed her daily. Being prescribed morphine to help with the pain of having an incomplete miscarriage did help with the bodily pain, but it also began to help with the emotional suffering. It became easy to numb that feeling of never-ending sorrow and loss by upping her dosage a little more here and there. All of which she never thought he noticed.
Adam's hand rapidly flew across his notepad as he scribbled down this information. Just when he thought he had the Florrick's figured out, they continuously proved him wrong.
"I wasn't addicted," she repeated.
Peter raked a hand through his hair as he folded his arms and relaxed back against the seat.
"You were dependent enough. I remember the day I came home to find you passed out in the middle of our bed, scaring me, thinking you had committed suicide from overdosing." He stared at her, his piercing gaze hard and challenging. "I guess I'm supposed to still think that was "grief", too?!"
The fury surged through her at lightening speed upon hearing his words. She couldn't control her hand when it rose into the air, and swung across the space between them to land on his cheek, hitting him so hard the force caused his face to turn. She breathed heavily as she watched him hold his face, sitting in utter shock.
"HEY!" Adam leaped from his chair as he walked around the coffee table to stand in front of them, the look on his face a mixture of shock and reprimanding. "Alicia, I know you are upset. But I will not condone a physical retaliation of any kind in my office."
Her chest rose and fell heavily as she glared up at Adam before looking back at Peter, absolutely livid.
Of all things, they never spoke about that day. Even after it happened, after he found her in bed that one day, they never mentioned it ever again. She thought it was an unspoken vow they shared. That it happened, she had just had a bad day, and well, her emotions got the best of her. It was a bad judgement call and both were thankful that he came home at the right time. But she bounced back after that…moment. She had realized what had almost happened and did what she needed to get over the drowning melancholy. There was too much to live for.
Peter continued to hold his face as his eyes clouded in wrath, while she sat there, staring him down, fuming with anger. Round two was not about to happen. She couldn't stay here any longer, couldn't handle the grave truths that were continuously being brought to light beyond her control. Breaking their death stare match, she reached down to the floor for her purse.
"Alicia, no," said Adam as he took a step back, watching as she got up and shouldered her bag. She was going to flee. Again. "Stay. Please."
"I cant bear this, Dr. Lewis. Not today." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I can't even look at him right now."
Peter scoffed as he smoothed a hand over his still stinging jaw. "You don't think I was hurting, too?" he said lowly. "They were my babies also. I lost two children in a short span of time, too, Alicia."
She ignored him as she bit her lower lip and strutted towards the door.
Peter stood from the couch, causing Adam to walk back around to his chair and remain a safe distance, careful to not be in the line of their dudgeon but safe enough to intervene if needed.
He stared at his wife as if he dared her to leave, and if she did, so help him he was going to run after her. She would hear what he had to say. "Run. That's your favorite thing to do isn't it? When all the chips have fallen, you don't try to pick up the pieces. You just run."
She turned around to face him, her chest swiftly rising and falling, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"Perhaps I don't want to sit here and listen to my husband call me a drug addict and accuse me of attempting suicide during a difficult time in my life."
"Our life, Alicia! That was a difficult time in our life and those losses were ours!"
Her stance faltered as she drew back slightly and flinched at his words, as if for the first time, she was comprehending that this deep seated sorrow wasn't just her own. That he did share it. He cautiously inched forward towards her position by the door, triggering Adam to nervously watch their interaction in front of his seat, hoping she didn't hit him again.
Peter dropped his head for a moment, gazing down at the floor, trying to find a way to express his own buried frustrations. When he slowly lifted his head, his eyes conveyed every bit of turmoil that she felt, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"I wanted more than anything to swallow a bottle of pills after I watched the doctor's remove our child from your body and just throw it away. As if it was a piece of garbage."
Her free arm flew around her stomach as she gasped at his words, feeling as if they had sucked the very last ounce of strength she had been hanging onto for the last three years. Hiding her face, she concealed her cries as she gripped the doorknob, the only thing holding her up right at the moment. He saw that? She remembered, through her hysterics and before she was sedated by the anesthesia, that he promised to never leave her side during the procedure. She could only guess he used his position as the State's Attorney during that time to remain in the room.
Peter watched her grapple with his confession, his heart breaking as she resembled that distraught woman those years ago. One that pushed him away and had checked out of their marriage. With vigilance, he inched closer to her position, tears brimming in his own eyes. His shoulders had dropped, a subtle indication showing her that all of the hurt he had been feeling, too, was real.
"I felt like a coward," he whispered. Alicia lowered her hand from over her eyes and looked at him, her fingers trembling as they came to rest on her lips, caging her sobs from breaking free at hearing this all for the first time. "I felt loss as a man...as a husband, because I didn't know how to help you. I didn't know how to save my wife. And I didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling."
Gazing into his heart broken face, although his own grief broke her heart, she could only think of one thing.
"You had a fine way of dealing with your confusion."
"You pushed me away! It tore me up inside to watch you suffer. That at the mere sight of me, you could shut down like that." His voice dropped to a mere whisper as he peered into her eyes. "How do you think I felt? Whenever I so much as touched you, you would shrivel up…like my touch made your skin crawl."
She didn't care. Regardless that she was emotionally unavailable, that in no way would excuse his actions in her mind.
Ever.
"So what, Peter?! That made what you did okay?!" She threw her hands up into the air. "Because I didn't want you touching me, because I didn't even feel like a woman anymore, that made it okay for you to spend our money and fuck a whore eighteen times?!"
"No," he dropped his head. "I shouldn't have done that. I hate that I did that to you."
"So do I!" she wailed. "And you know what else I hate, Peter? I hate that I still love you so much it hurts. That my heart wants to forgive you, but I can't. That every time I look into your eyes, I see that a prostitute and my best friend has had half of me." If words could kill, he swore she just killed him in that second. "The worst part? I feel as if I will never get past this. That's what I hate. I hate that you hurt me, when I believed you never would. Especially then."
She paused her rant to stare deep into his eyes, knowing that he needed to hear what she was about to say just as much as she needed to admit it to herself.
"And I hate that we both have played a part in our marriage being in the state that it's in."
Adam observed their frozen stance by the door, and how they both deteriorated back into those strangers he first met weeks ago. Once a few seconds had passed, he figured they were done dealing venomous blows. He treaded carefully to their position, and cleared his throat.
"Why you don't you two sit back down? Take a moment to calm down and just process all that happened in the last twenty minutes."
Alicia only looked at Peter, shaking her head. She couldn't do this anymore today.
"Please, Alicia," Peter whispered. "I want to fix us. I want to work through this. I want to heal."
She gripped the doorknob tighter, her feet still angled towards the exit, itching to run from the room.
"Alicia, let me help you…let me help you both," Adam coaxed.
Her eyes shifted between the two of them as they pleaded with her to stay. All she could think about was how vulnerable she was. She hated feeling that way. One soul-bearing moment today was enough. But she owed it to herself, to her lost babies, to Zach and Grace. She needed to be better than she was before she walked into this room.
Reluctantly, she released her hand from the knob and slowly walked back over to the couch and sat down. Peter mouthed a thank you to Adam as he too sat back within his seat.
Combing a hand through his salt and peppered short hair, Adam was certain he would need a drink after this session was over. As he plopped back into his chair and grabbed his trusty notepad, he stared at the two despondent individuals before him once again, wondering where to start.
A/N: I know this chapter was heavy and probably hard to read. I struggled to write it and was hesitant in posting. But…just please, stay with me. I promise it will get better :)
