Everyday Peril
Chapter 10: The Beautiful and Damned
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I swear that it will get better in the end. We just have to get there first… Thanks for the reviews, everyone. Please keep them up. They're great to come home to after babysitting all day, especially when one of the kids thinks that because you don't live in the house, or on the street, or own the bike or the TV or the PlayStation, that he doesn't have to listen to a word you say, but anyway… Enjoy!
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For the first time since she had met him, since she had grown to trust and love
him, she lied. It wasn't so much a lie as a deception, a hiding of the truth.
But it felt like a lie to her. They had been completely open about absolutely
everything since they had become intimate so long ago, and knew everything
about each other. Sydney could probably say that she had the only husband who not
only knew what tampons were, but exactly what kind to get if she ever needed
him to get them for her.
She didn't tell him how much pain she was in, wouldn't
show it. There are some things a person never forgets, and how to not betray
what she really felt was something that would stick with Sydney forever. Michael had tried so hard to rid her of that, and
given a few more years of complete bliss, probably would have succeeded. But
this accident had sent her crashing back to that time before. The time of darkness, where there was nothing to live for, no
purpose to life. When it was so bad that she needed
someone, something to cling to, to keep her from spiraling downward.
To Michael, it looked like she was in a lot better shape than she felt. For
once, it was the emotional ache that fell through her strong façade first, not
the physical pain. Countless times before, she had let him nurse her through
morning sickness, headaches, even simple colds. This
time, she didn't want him to know that she hurt. Didn't want him to know that
she had been taken to this room not ten minutes before, and the doctor would
have killed her if she had known that her patient had been sitting up, let
alone out of bed. Didn't want him to know that she had to fight back the tears
to move and take the few steps to the window. Didn't want him to know that it
hurt to breathe, would have felt better if the slow, shallow breaths she was
allowing herself now would cease altogether.
She didn't want to stay here any longer, could feel the ghosts of her past
swirling around her, wailing and howling. Before this, the twins' birth had
probably been the only time she had ever been in a hospital without an alias, a
convenient lie, and some sort of wound or malady inflicted by the enemy,
someone she could go after later, someone she could
kill. And that had been a time of happiness; this was altogether different.
"You have to stay here for a little while," Michael murmured, finally
responding to her earlier statement. He sighed, taking a deep breath before
saying her name. "Syd?"
She knew what he wanted, and she didn't want to talk. "I'm tired," she
whispered, closing her eyes. She didn't see him nod, swallowing with
difficulty, trying to hold back the tears. He took her hand and kissed it. She
didn't move.
Michael watched his wife sleep, or at least he thought he did. Sleep did not
find her, although she had closed her eyes. The sandman who had so viciously
beaten her with boulders a while ago was nowhere to be found with his soft,
glimmering sand. But she hadn't really wanted to sleep, only using it as an
excuse to shut herself off from the world. It seemed a perfect solution; if she
appeared asleep, no one would bother her, but if she wasn't really, she
couldn't be haunted by dreams.
She hadn't accounted for daydreams, however. And it wasn't long before her mind
spun out of control, replaying the assault on her senses that had occurred
earlier, her daughter's screams echoing in her ears. Although a small corner in
the back of her mind, the one space left that still had some light to it, that
hadn't been completely clouded by tragedy, knew that Michael was standing right
there, holding her hand, she refused to tighten her grip. She didn't want to
feel anything, even his arms around her.
As it had been before, time became something that didn't matter; a piece of taffy
that was stretched and pulled, then folded back together again, always the same
amount of sticky sweetness but seeming at once to be so much and so little. He
forgot completely that he had told his daughter he would be back to get her,
couldn't think of anything but the woman before him, what she had been and was
now, searching her for any glimmer of hope and life.
The soft knock at the door almost instantaneously followed by his daughter's
arm around his leg startled him. Instinct kicked in and he scooped her up,
pasting a smile on his face and walking out the door to where Carol was
waiting.
"Hey, sweetie," Michael whispered on his way out. "Are you okay?"
"Look, Daddy," Hailey said solemnly, pointing to both the cast and sling that
held her arm tightly. The brightness of the cast nearly blinded him, and he
wondered for a moment how she was going to get to sleep at night. "And I didn't
cry one bit," she added, glancing at Carol for confirmation.
"She's a very brave girl," Carol said, nodding. "I'm sorry," she continued in a
whisper. "But she was desperate to get to you."
"No. Thank you," Michael responded, not wanting to have to say in front of his
daughter that he had forgotten her, and glad that the paramedic seemed to
understand this and offer him the perfect excuse. Hailey didn't seem to worry
about it either, laying her head on his shoulder and
tiredly fingering the buttons on his shirt, just as her mother would do after a
long, hard day. "I don't know how I'll every repay you."
"Don't worry about it," Carol shrugged, brushing Hailey's hair back behind her
ear. "This one's a perfect little angel." She reached into her pocket and
handed him a card. "Here's my number. If you need anything, don't hesitate to
call."
Michael didn't get a chance to answer before Hailey looked up at him, bringing
a hand to his face and commanding his attention. "Daddy, is Mommy all better?"
He thought for a moment before answering. "Not yet," he murmured, kissing the
top of her head and glancing at Carol. "Thank you."
"Is the new baby okay?" Hailey continued, feeling that she had been left
in the dark for far too long, and now wanting to know everything.
Michael flinched. Carol ruffled Hailey's hair and patted Michael's shoulder.
She murmured a goodbye to Hailey before giving Michael her now familiar parting
words, spoken this time so that he barely heard her. "Good luck."
She left and Hailey patted her father's cheek. "Daddy?"
"Hailey, there's something we need to talk about," he began, leading her
to a bench far enough down the hall so that Sydney couldn't hear them if she woke up. The movement also
bought him time. He had no idea how to broach this subject. As difficult as it
had been to convince Hailey to want and love this baby, telling her that it was
gone was going to be ten times worse. How do you explain the death of something
that was so loved but had never yet been seen?"
Hailey waited patiently enough for a few moments, admiring her new cast as she
sat beside him. "Look, I'm all protected," she said, smiling up at him and
tapping a finger along her cast. "You can touch it and I don't even feel it on
my skin. Is this like what the knights weared in The
Sword in the Stone?"
But Michael hadn't heard her question. A pity, since it might have made him smile, and he could have used that desperately. "Hailey…"
"Maybe do you think if Mommy and me weared this in
the car we wouldn't have been hurted when it
crashed?" Her deep green eyes were solemn; her question not as silly as it may
have seemed. Michael wanted to hug her so tightly, never having to let her go
again. He wanted to do the same to her mother and her brothers, never letting
his family leave his grasp.
"Hailey," he started again, lifting her onto his lap so that she faced him,
needing her to be close to him when her mother could not. "We need to talk
about something important."
"Is it about the crash?" Hailey asked. She was an intelligent child and if it
hadn't been her lack of understanding of French, it would be hard to pass
anything by her. "When I asked if the new baby was okay, you
didn't say anything."
"That's what we're going to talk about now." Now if he only knew where
to begin. He wished there was some kind of prepared speech for this, but only
for a moment before he realized that his daughter's curious nature would have
riddled it with holes and uncertainties; there was no way anything could
prepare him for all her questions.
"Did the new baby need a cast too?"
It would have been nice if it were that simple. Yes,
Hailey. The new baby needed a cast, but it will be all better to
play with you after it's born. Quick, simple, and
painless, with barely a hint of suffering.
"Do you remember that little bird we found in our yard awhile ago?" Michael
asked quietly, not knowing where else to begin.
He and Sydney had tried to keep their children sheltered from the pain of the
outside world. They had decided that the two of them had had enough of it to
last a lifetime and they were going to protect their children from it at all
costs. The little girl and her two brothers were in bed by 8 o'clock every night, only played in the backyard if someone was
out there with them, and never watched a movie that was rated higher than G if
their parents hadn't watched it first. They knew almost nothing of suffering
and death outside of the quick, honey-coated misery in Disney cartoons.
"The one that flied into the window?"
Hailey had found it early one Saturday morning, telling her mother and father
that it was sleeping on the grass and maybe they should find its nest so it
wouldn't be scared when it work up. She didn't know that its sleep was deeper
than she could have ever imagined, that there was a
kind of sleep that you never woke up from.
"Yeah. Do you remember?"
Hailey nodded. "He didn't move at all, even when we picked him up. The new baby
can't fly, right?" She cocked her head to the side, clearly confused. He knew
that he was doing this by a very roundabout way, but couldn't think of any
better way to do it, knew that he needed to deliver the news slowly for his own
sake as much as that of the little girl's.
"No, Hailey. But do you remember what happened next with the little bird?"
"We put him in a box," she said thoughtfully, suddenly brightening. "Can I see
it?"
"What?"
"The box that the new baby's growing in," Hailey stated matter-of-factly. "Can
I look inside real fast? I promise I won't wake it up."
"No, sweetie." He would probably never perfect this
parenting thing. Sydney would have been so much better at this, he was sure of it.
Sometimes, he even wondered why that woman had let him father her children.
"The baby's not living in a box. It's…"
"You're not gonna bury it in the backyard, right?"
Hailey interrupted, eyes wide, all the joy that the
thought of seeing the baby had brought her quickly extinguished with this new
notion.
Michael had thought that the bird would be a good entry to what he had to say,
but perhaps he had been wrong. If he was getting anywhere at all with this, it
was definitely in a worse position than where he had started. Too bad there was
never practice for things like this. You got one shot and that's it. Michael
would learn from this, but it was not something he hoped to benefit from; he
never wanted to have to explain this again.
"The little bird went up to heaven, right?" he asked, trying to steer this
conversation in the right direction.
"Yep," Hailey nodded. "Mommy said it growed angel
wings even though it already had birdie wings." She remembered wanting to see
them, asking if the angel wings were bigger or would help the birdie fly
faster. She thought that all the other birdies would be jealous because the
bird's new angel wings were more beautiful than their own birdie wings.
Well, it was as good a lead in as he could hope for, and he had to tell her the
truth. "Hailey, the new baby went up to heaven too."
The little girl frowned. As smart as she was, what they had been discussing had
not prepared her for this. She thought that maybe the new baby would have
pretty wings too, that it would learn to fly and maybe teach her when it got
bigger. "Why?"
"It got hurt in the car accident."
So if it got hurt, it needed a Band-Aid, right? She hurt her elbow learning how
to ride her bike, and she never grew angel wings. Her cousin had pushed her
down at the playground, but she never went up to heaven. She got a Band-Aid, a
kiss, and was as good as new before she even had a chance to cry. "But me and
mommy got hurt, and we're not going to heaven."
"You and Mommy are a lot stronger. The baby was so little and it got hurt very
badly." It was difficult to explain this. He had to be careful not to make it
any worse, not to scare his daughter into thinking that every time someone got
hurt, they went up to heaven. He was treading on delicate ground and one step
in the wrong direction was all it would take to shatter the little girl's
confidence.
"Did it grow angel wings and fly out of Mommy's tummy?" Did it hurt to grow
the wings? Did Mommy feel it fly out? Why didn't we see it? She had a
thousand questions bombarding her, and was more confused now that she had more
answers than she had been before. Life was so difficult to understand
sometimes.
"Yeah," Michael answered, smoothing her hair.
A moment later, Hailey's lip began to tremble and tears sparkled in her eyes.
"How come the new baby didn't want me to be its big sister? I telled it I was sorry I said I didn't want it…" She looked
down and her tears dropped onto her father's lap.
"Oh, sweetie…" Michael gathered the little girl into his arms, and it took all
his strength not to cry with her. He rocked her gently back and forth and she
wrapped her arms tightly around him. "It's not your fault, angel. It's nobody's
fault."
"Then why'd the new baby have to get hurt and go to heaven?" She asked,
sniffling.
"I don't know," Michael murmured, brushing his thumbs over her eyes to dry
them.
"Who's gonna take care of it when it cries?" Her
daddy was drying her tears now, but he wouldn't be there to dry the new baby's
tears or hug it or kiss it or tell it what a pretty little baby it is. It would
never get to play with her or William or Jonny.
"There'll be lots of angels up there to love it, Hailey. Grandpa
Vaughn… and Grandma Bristow." They had never told their children the
truth about their grandmother, and never planned on doing it. Some things were
better left untouched, too difficult to explain. "And the little bird will be
up there to sing it to sleep."
"I think it'll like that," Hailey said, nodding and wiping her arm across her
face.
"Me too," Michael agreed. His little girl snuggled against him again and they
sat in silence. He took a shaky breath, feeling his daughter's little heart
beating against his chest and listening to the hum of activity around them.
"Daddy?" Hailey asked after a moment. She scooted back
to look up at him, tears no longer falling. "Can you not call me angel anymore
and we can call the new baby that instead?"
"I think that's a good idea," Michael answered. Never in all his wildest dreams
had he allowed himself to think that a child he helped
to create could be so sweet and perfect.
"Goodbye, angel," Hailey called, glancing up a the
ceiling and waving. And just like that, she made her peace with it. "Can we go
see Mommy now?"
"Yes. But first, you have to show me your smile. Mommy needs to see happy faces
right now." He couldn't afford to add more sadness to that room. There was
already enough in there to drown anyone who entered; maybe others couldn't feel
it, but it had weighed heavily upon him the moment he had entered the room.
"How's this?" Hailey asked, beaming up at him, a miniature version of Sydney's
smile plastered across her face.
"Beautiful," Michael responded. "Just like your…" He
stopped himself, unable to finish his sentence, and quickly changing the
subject. "Now, we'll go see Mommy, but only for a few minutes because she's
very tired. Then I'm going to take you to Grandma's house, and…"
"How am I gonna get to Grandma's house?" Hailey
interrupted him, her voice quivering, her forehead wrinkled with concern.
"I'm going to drive you and then come back here." It hit him as he said it. Had
he been in her shoes, he wouldn't want to get back in a car so soon either.
"What if we crash again?" Her voice was so tiny, and he realized then how small
and helpless she actually was. She was only a little girl.
"Don't worry, sweetie. Your mother and I will always try our best to protect
you." She didn't need to know that car accidents were something that there was
no protection from. If she was satisfied with his answer, that was all she
needed.
"Promise?" Hailey asked, still uneasy.
"I promise." But the shadow of fear still lingered on his daughter's face. She
hadn't bought his answer completely, but she was still young enough to be
distracted into happiness. "Is the tickle monster going to have to come and
find your smile?" Michael asked with mock seriousness.
"Maybe," Hailey answered, without a hint of teasing or happiness.
Michael willed himself to smile for Hailey's sake. She had been through a lot
today, and it was the least he could do for her. He tickled her ribs until she
squirmed with laughter.
"Okay!" Hailey managed in between giggles. "The tickle monster can go away
now!"
Michael obliged, taking his hands off her. She leaned forward, tottering
without the ability to use both arms to balance, and he helped her move toward
him. She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose. "I love you, Daddy." To think
how close he had come to losing all this…
"I love you, too," he answered automatically, the words finding their way over
the lump in his throat without a problem. "Now, let's go see Mommy." He lifted
her down and took her hand. "Don't be scared when we go in the room. Mommy was
very hurt."
"I'm brave," Hailey stated. "Carol said so."
"I know you are," Michael replied. "Mommy might be asleep, so we have to be
quiet." He led her into the room and Hailey paused in the doorway, staring at
her mother. "Come on, sweetheart."
Sydney was so still that at first he thought she was still fast asleep. But
lifeless as they appeared, her eyes were open, so he took their daughter over
to her bedside.
Hailey took her eyes off her mother for a moment to glance uneasily at her
father. Her fingers tightened around his. He probably should have prepared her
better for what she was now seeing, maybe shouldn't have taken her in at all.
But he knew that the child had to see for her own eyes that her mother was
still living and breathing, that eventually she would be okay.
"Syd, I've brought you a visitor," Michael murmured,
picking Hailey up so that Sydney wouldn't have to turn to see her.
Sydney's eyes met her daughter's and he could see the emotions that flashed
through them, so quickly that one was barely discernable from the other. But
there they were. The relief at seeing her daughter all right, the sadness and
anger when she saw the bruises and cast, the guilt at causing her pain.
Hailey wrapped her arm tightly around her father's neck, leaning her head
against his chest but still keeping eye contact with her mother. "H-hi, Mommy." Somehow she managed a flash of a smile, gone
almost before it was even there.
"Hailey…" Sydney murmured, her voice low.
Simply hearing her mother's voice was enough for Hailey. As unlike her mother's
normal cheerful tone as it was, it still managed to brighten the little girl.
She realized that it was indeed her mother underneath all the bruises, and her
shyness and fear melted away. "You have something in your arm," she stated,
pointing to the IV. "Does it hurt?"
"Not anymore," Sydney whispered, answering truthfully. It had stung when they
first put it in, but compared to the pain elsewhere, it was nothing; it had
been numbed away.
"Look, Mommy," Hailey said, glancing at her cast and sling. Her voice had been
sad earlier when she had said the same words to her father, but now it was
cheerful. "The doctor said it will be all better in no time."
Sydney didn't seem to hear her merry tone, however. Her eyes locked on the
cast, and she saw it as a symbol of pain, her ears filled with the little
girl's screams as they rose above all the other noise and commotion from
earlier. "I'm sorry, Hailey."
"Don't say you're sorry, Mommy," Hailey responded, shaking her head. "Never ever. It's not your fault."
Michael froze. Don't say you're sorry, Syd. Don't
ever say you're sorry… How many times had he said those words to his wife?
His daughter had never heard him say it, but somehow she had known.
Hailey didn't notice her father's strange glance, and Sydney either didn't
recognize the familiar words or didn't care, her face still the same void it
had been when he had first walked in the room, distant and emotionless.
Suddenly, he realized that somewhere deep down he had been hoping that their
daughter would have been able to bring the light back to her mother's eyes. But
Sydney had retreated too far in her shell for that. He had always been able to
reach her and pull her out before, usually without the help of their daughter.
But Sydney had lost herself in territory unfamiliar to him, too deep into the
maze for him to penetrate easily.
It pained him more than words could say, and he wanted to get Hailey out of
there before she noticed the change in her mother's behavior. The little girl
didn't need anymore sadness today, and out of all that had happened, he thought
that losing Sydney like this, still having her, but not in the same way, was
probably the worst of all. He would work harder than anything to bring her
back, but it would take time.
"Say goodbye to your mother, Hailey," he murmured, his
voice hoarse. "She needs her rest. You can come visit
tomorrow."
"Bye, Mommy," Hailey chirped obediently. "Don't worry. You'll be all better
soon." She brought a tiny hand up to her lips and blew Sydney a kiss. "I love
you."
"Goodbye, Hailey," Sydney whispered. And if the little girl noticed that for
the first time, her mother didn't say she loved her back, she didn't say
anything.
Michael carried her out of the room and down the hall. Hailey didn't say a word
until they were in the elevator, taking her father's chin in her hand and
tilting his face towards her. "Daddy?"
His eyes answered for him, told her that he was listening and she didn't call
his name again. He needed a break from speaking, knew that if he opened his
mouth, he wouldn't be able to hold back the sobs that were beating against his chest.
"When you come back," the little girl continued, "make sure you give Mommy lots
of kisses so she's not so sad."
The elevator beeped as the doors opened, and the movement of walking out saved
him from having to respond. Ordinarily, the little girl's tactic would have
worked; his kisses would have restored a smile to Sydney's face in no time. But
he knew that he wouldn't be so lucky this time. They had suffered through so
much before, so many strange and exotic dangers. But it was an ordinary one that
had broken them. He shifted Hailey so that he could hold her with one arm,
using his free hand to wipe away his tears before they had a chance to fall.
