Author's note: Apologies for the delay in updating, been so busy. Hope this
chapter makes sense and people are still interested.
Chapter 18: "Can't Lose What You Never Had" Abby Lockhart, R.N
Banks of Chicago River, 18/6/02, 13:00
My hands are shaking, gripping my knees hard enough to cut off circulation. My hearts beating so fast I can barely breathe. I didn't think it would be that hard. I thought I was strong enough again.
I was wrong. I've succeeded in taking two steps back for every small step I've taken forward from that day. It made sense when I did it. I knew I was carrying a healthy baby, that things were going as expected, that I was on course. But going back was just one step too far.
As soon as I rounded the corner and looked up at the ruined buildings around, I could see the whole scene again. The acrid smoke was thick again in my nostrils, and stung my tear ravaged eyes. There's nothing there now, of course, except rubble. That rubble was once so much of my life. I turned on my heel and ran, as fast as my legs could carry me and as far. I headed towards the river. I could think there. I could breathe there.
I open my eyes, look up at the world around and take a long deep breath. It calms my spinning mind, slows my racing heart. "Are you O.K?" A young mother, her toddler firmly by the hand, has noticed my panic. Meeting her eyes, it is obvious her concern is genuine. This woman doesn't know me, she isn't judging me. She's just being friendly. "Yeah, just being stupid," A small smile crosses my lips, but she looks unconvinced. "Are you sure? You can't afford to take any chances," I saw her eyes flit down my body and I knew what she meant. I nodded knowingly. This baby survived two bomb blasts, it's going to be O.K through a panic attack. It's a survivor already. "Take care," She said gently, before walking away into the rain, trailing her child. And watching her disappear, I realize I've been here before. I've watched someone walk away from me from this self-same bench before. For a moment, I'm back there, in the clear Chicago sunlight, I can see his receding back, and I can recall how his words tore my heart out almost more than I could bear.
I'd never kissed him, never told him I loved him and it wasn't his child that had taken over and deformed my battered body. And I regret every second I hadn't spent with him, all the things I left unsaid. For a second, on the same bench I saw our only chance dissipate, I wish it was his baby. His legacy.
He was a great man, my best friend. He deserved a legacy. The things he'd been through to die like that, it wasn't fair. They were both great men, in their ways, but fate chose me. Fate chose me over the father of my baby and the one man who would have gotten me through this. If there is reason in this madness, I fail to see it. In their absence, I have no choice. I can't bear that I've come to this, that I'm doing this to the memory, giving away all of that life I have left.
It's a girl. That much I just found out. Does that make her real? I still can't hold her, she still isn't tangible. She can't be of comfort as long as she's inside me, and I don't know how much comfort she'll be when she's in my arms. I know I won't be able to love her as I should. I don't have it in me anymore. There are people in the world who will love her as a mother should, and they deserve her more than I do.
A little girl to replace the one he so tragically lost all those years ago, in a land foreign and far away. That all seems very distant to me now, as if it and he were part of another life. Any other way but the one I've chosen I have to look at his daughters face every day for the rest of my life. I would have to look at the pain and the guilt over and over again, in every smile, in every tear. I would be haunted. Horrific as the past months have been, I don't want to be any more haunted by it. Without this child, it's only the pictures in my head which will torture me - memories of who I was, who I am and the men I hurt so deeply - and then its only my life on the line and not hers too.
I pull my jacket further round myself, trying to hide the bump both from myself and from the judgemental stares it attracts. It only makes it more obvious, and hiding it really isn't going to be an option much longer. Soon, this baby will force its screaming way into the world and the decision I've made will be reality. I'm painfully aware I may feel differently once I see her and it frightens me.
He would have stayed with me, for the baby, but he didn't love me. He never really did. He cared for me, but that's very different. It's not a sad realization, because it frees me from the burden of having to pretend I loved him. Only the person I really wanted to spend my life with died that awful day too.
The black waters of the river swirl 10 feet away, swollen and angry by incessant rain. Commuters, smart business people in suits, look sideways at this pathetic bedraggled woman alone in the rain. I was once as important, as self-important, as they are. But now I'm a hollow shell of the person I was, an empty vessel whose sole purpose is the support of this parasite. This pregnancy is literally killing me.
She's taking away who I am, a vacuum sucking at my soul. I didn't ask for her to be here. I didn't want a baby! I don't know if she's my journey or the destination, and I don't care. I can't do this much longer. I just can't.
Chapter 18: "Can't Lose What You Never Had" Abby Lockhart, R.N
Banks of Chicago River, 18/6/02, 13:00
My hands are shaking, gripping my knees hard enough to cut off circulation. My hearts beating so fast I can barely breathe. I didn't think it would be that hard. I thought I was strong enough again.
I was wrong. I've succeeded in taking two steps back for every small step I've taken forward from that day. It made sense when I did it. I knew I was carrying a healthy baby, that things were going as expected, that I was on course. But going back was just one step too far.
As soon as I rounded the corner and looked up at the ruined buildings around, I could see the whole scene again. The acrid smoke was thick again in my nostrils, and stung my tear ravaged eyes. There's nothing there now, of course, except rubble. That rubble was once so much of my life. I turned on my heel and ran, as fast as my legs could carry me and as far. I headed towards the river. I could think there. I could breathe there.
I open my eyes, look up at the world around and take a long deep breath. It calms my spinning mind, slows my racing heart. "Are you O.K?" A young mother, her toddler firmly by the hand, has noticed my panic. Meeting her eyes, it is obvious her concern is genuine. This woman doesn't know me, she isn't judging me. She's just being friendly. "Yeah, just being stupid," A small smile crosses my lips, but she looks unconvinced. "Are you sure? You can't afford to take any chances," I saw her eyes flit down my body and I knew what she meant. I nodded knowingly. This baby survived two bomb blasts, it's going to be O.K through a panic attack. It's a survivor already. "Take care," She said gently, before walking away into the rain, trailing her child. And watching her disappear, I realize I've been here before. I've watched someone walk away from me from this self-same bench before. For a moment, I'm back there, in the clear Chicago sunlight, I can see his receding back, and I can recall how his words tore my heart out almost more than I could bear.
I'd never kissed him, never told him I loved him and it wasn't his child that had taken over and deformed my battered body. And I regret every second I hadn't spent with him, all the things I left unsaid. For a second, on the same bench I saw our only chance dissipate, I wish it was his baby. His legacy.
He was a great man, my best friend. He deserved a legacy. The things he'd been through to die like that, it wasn't fair. They were both great men, in their ways, but fate chose me. Fate chose me over the father of my baby and the one man who would have gotten me through this. If there is reason in this madness, I fail to see it. In their absence, I have no choice. I can't bear that I've come to this, that I'm doing this to the memory, giving away all of that life I have left.
It's a girl. That much I just found out. Does that make her real? I still can't hold her, she still isn't tangible. She can't be of comfort as long as she's inside me, and I don't know how much comfort she'll be when she's in my arms. I know I won't be able to love her as I should. I don't have it in me anymore. There are people in the world who will love her as a mother should, and they deserve her more than I do.
A little girl to replace the one he so tragically lost all those years ago, in a land foreign and far away. That all seems very distant to me now, as if it and he were part of another life. Any other way but the one I've chosen I have to look at his daughters face every day for the rest of my life. I would have to look at the pain and the guilt over and over again, in every smile, in every tear. I would be haunted. Horrific as the past months have been, I don't want to be any more haunted by it. Without this child, it's only the pictures in my head which will torture me - memories of who I was, who I am and the men I hurt so deeply - and then its only my life on the line and not hers too.
I pull my jacket further round myself, trying to hide the bump both from myself and from the judgemental stares it attracts. It only makes it more obvious, and hiding it really isn't going to be an option much longer. Soon, this baby will force its screaming way into the world and the decision I've made will be reality. I'm painfully aware I may feel differently once I see her and it frightens me.
He would have stayed with me, for the baby, but he didn't love me. He never really did. He cared for me, but that's very different. It's not a sad realization, because it frees me from the burden of having to pretend I loved him. Only the person I really wanted to spend my life with died that awful day too.
The black waters of the river swirl 10 feet away, swollen and angry by incessant rain. Commuters, smart business people in suits, look sideways at this pathetic bedraggled woman alone in the rain. I was once as important, as self-important, as they are. But now I'm a hollow shell of the person I was, an empty vessel whose sole purpose is the support of this parasite. This pregnancy is literally killing me.
She's taking away who I am, a vacuum sucking at my soul. I didn't ask for her to be here. I didn't want a baby! I don't know if she's my journey or the destination, and I don't care. I can't do this much longer. I just can't.