Jack
I went to see Cassie's dorm room today. I met her roommate who I like tolerably well. When she went to class I went and bought her a couple of things I thought she could use. I'm not saying that Cass can't take care of herself. But…she could use a few nice dishes to make things with the microwave. And she didn't have enough pens and pencils.
When she came back from class we went to lunch. For the first time in my life I'm actually nervous about talking to my daughter.
"So Cassie, do you have a major?" I ask.
She pokes at her food, "Ah…I might be doing the ROTC Aerodynamics."
"Sam mentioned that. Ah…why?" I ask.
"Did she tell you…Dominic?"
"Yeah," I nod. "Deployments are…tough."
She bites her lip.
"You know joining the Air Force…it doesn't mean you get to be together."
"You told me a long time ago that the Air Force makes every effort to try to keep married couples together."
Yeah, that was when she was terrified the Air Force was going to separate Sam and I. "Right, but you aren't married. And…there are frat regs. If you went to ROTC, you'd be an officer like your mother and I. He's enlisted. It is always against the rules for an officer to date or marry enlisted personnel. And the Air Force does everything it can to make sure that a man can stay with his wife not in the Air Force. In fact, they are better at that…if you choose later to get married."
She nods, "I just…"
"And if this is about impressing your mother and me, you ought to know that I am forever and for always impressed with you. Nothing you could ever do could make you rise or fall in my esteem, because you're at the top."
She smiles, "I've been considering computational physics."
"Oh for crying out loud girl! You don't have to impress your mother either."
"I know," she says slowly, "It's just. There is a balance in the universe. A give and take. Equations. And they're beautiful, and they explain everything."
"Good," I say giving her a nod, "You found something that makes you happy. That's all I want for you."
Her smile turns grim, "So when are you guys shipping out under new orders? I mean you are all going together right? Sam and Ser have been without you for long enough."
"We're all staying for the foreseeable future," I say.
"Really?" she grins.
"Yeah, I guess you're stuck with the family."
"I'll take you," she says.
Jack-later
After my outing with Cassie I barely have time to make it home before picking up Ser from school. I've been picking her up ever since I came back from my frozen time about a week ago.
Sam's car is in the driveway, which is strange considering that she usually gets home around at six and it's not yet three.
Ser doesn't run into her room for the half hour of play like she usually does. She just stands there concerned saying, "Mommy?"
I hear a shuffle in our bedroom.
"Samantha?" I ask pushing open the door. I see her curled up on the bed in the fetal position. She has trains of tears down her face. She only gets like this when an alien takes over her body. She was supposed to be safe. She has to be safe until the baby is born.
I close the door behind me hoping Ser didn't see this. I walk over and bend down in her line of sight, "Sam, you have to tell me what happened."
She shakes her head.
"Sammy," I plead brushing the hair away from her face.
"We lost the baby," she says.
"No…we have to go to the hospital. Remember with Dipity we thought…"
But she is still shaking her head hard, "I've been to the hospital, Jack."
Oh God, "why didn't you call me?"
"I wanted you to have…a couple more hours where this hadn't happened."
I crawl into bed next to her, and hold her tight, "Are you ok?" stupid question. "I mean physically. Is everything ok?"
She nods slowly, "And I want another baby."
Oh Sam! "We're not deciding that yet. Give it a couple of weeks. But…maybe," I say.
"I'm empty. Hollow," she chokes out.
I kiss her forehead, and hold her closer before I even respond, "Samantha, you are the opposite of empty. You are so full of brains, and strength, and courage."
"Hollow," she insists, "I want my baby," she says crying.
I hold her for a while before I say, "I have to go take care of Ser. I'll be back."
"Jack," she pleads looking up at me with devastated eyes, "your son died. Another son died."
"Sam," I say mostly because I need to hear a voice.
"Jack…they said that it…hormones. My hormones were off. That's why we lost it."
"Not your fault."
She nods.
"Could they fix it?" I ask, "I mean with another kid."
"Less risk," she says.
"Healing device?" I ask.
She shrugs.
"Not your fault," I repeat. She nods. My fault. I'm cursed. Can't keep sons.
I give her another kiss on the forehead before I head out. Crap. Serendipity is staring in horror at the door.
"Daddy?" she says near tears as I leave the room, "What's wrong with Mommy?"
"Nothing honey, she's just sad," I say, "Let's sit down on the couch and talk for a little bit."
"Mommy was crying. Did something bad happen at work?" Ser asks.
"Honey, your mother lost the baby," I explain.
"How could she lose something that is inside of her?" she asks.
"I mean," oh this is hard, "the baby died."
Ser starts crying. "No sister? No brother?"
"Honey, not necessarily never. Just…not now."
She cries for awhile, and I hold her.
"I'm going to order a pizza for dinner. Then I'm going to check on Mommy, and we'll start reading."
"I can't read today," she says matter-of-factly.
"Ok, honey, I'll talk to your teacher tomorrow. You go play."
"No Daddy, I have to make Mommy feel better."
"That is very, very, sweet. But cheering up Mommy is not your job. And even if you cheered up Mommy the very best you can she still probably wouldn't be happy."
"I'm gonna go see."
"Ok," I say. I knock on our bedroom door. "Sam, your daughter wants to see you, you ok?" I ask.
Sam sits up in her bed, "Come on b…" she chokes on what I'm sure was going to be the words baby girl.
Ser pushes past me, and climbs up on the bed next to her. She wraps her arms around Sam. "I'm sorry Mommy. I'm sorry the baby is gone."
Sam holds her, and they both cry.
"Ok, Dipity," I say after twenty minutes, "let's leave Mommy."
They both look up at me in shock. "Everyone ok if she stays?" I ask. They both nod. "Ok, I'll go order the pizza."
After supper is on the way I make a call I've been dreading for awhile.
"Cassie, what are you doing?" I ask.
"Nothing, what's going on?" she asks calmly.
"Honey…we lost the baby," I stammer.
"What?" she asks in horror.
By the time I tell the whole story to her I'm emotionally exhausted.
I walk back into our bedroom. Sam is sitting on the bed, holding Ser with one hand, and fiddling with her hair with the other.
"Do you want her to leave?" I mouth to Sam.
She shakes her head no. It's amazing how much comfort a little kid can offer a grieving adult. I'm pretty sure her presence is the only reason Sam bothered to eat supper when it came.
Jack-next day
Sam called work and explained what happened and asked for the day off. Then I set off to drive Ser to school. We usually let her take the bus in the morning, but today I really need to explain why I didn't sign that she read her story.
Ser was in tears this morning begging me to sign it, but I explained to her about ethics, and how that wouldn't be right. I considered writing a note on the paper in lieu of signing it. But somehow, "my wife had a miscarriage so my daughter didn't do her homework," doesn't translate well to paper. It's best to do this in person.
So that is why I'm up and dressed and driving my daughter to school on a day when I would much rather stay in bed next to Sam, and pretend that none of the bad things in the world ever happened.
But if I did crawl into bed next to my wife, I probably wouldn't grieve with her. I'd probably try to be a big tough guy, and I know that isn't what she needs right now.
"Mrs. Maize," I say quietly as I enter her classroom, "Would it be possible for me to have a quick word in the hall?"
"Certainly Mr. O'Neill," she responds.
"Ah…Ser didn't do her reading last night…" I begin.
"I understand. I know that the work that Ser has been doing in order to keep up is far more than the other children have to do. However, if this becomes a regular occurrence…"
"Oh no, I've got no problem with…no, I want my daughter to do the same work as everyone else, even if she has to work a lot harder to do it. But…see yesterday my wife lost the baby," her eyes are overcome with the kind of sorrow that lets me know she probably experienced this first hand. Poor thing. "And I know that shouldn't have affected Ser, but it was her little sibling. And…you know she hates to see anyone upset, least of all her mother. And just being with her mom was doing more for her mother than I ever could, and I just couldn't drag her away to do her reading. It just didn't feel right."
"Of course not! I'll excuse Ser from her work for the night. And General O'Neill? I'm so sorry for you loss," he says.
And I almost break down in tears. Because I've been trying to keep it separated from me in my mind. Sam lost the baby. But I know….so did I.
I get home, and look at Sam curled in the bed for a little bit. She feels my eyes and turns toward me.
"Hold me?" I ask.
She holds out her arms to me. And we start grieving together.