(5) After Dark
Carter lay in the bed and stared angrily at the ceiling as though it had somehow offended him. Beside him, Abby thrashed about in her sleep, murmuring and weeping softly. He did his best to ignore her, but she had done this ever since Nathalie fell ill; it wasn't very hard to guess what recurring nightmare was plaguing her.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in bed, breathing fast. This was how her dream ended every night, in the early hours of the morning. Carter closed his eyes; he didn't want her to talk to him about it. She was being stupid; nothing bad was going to happen just because she dreamt it. Usually she just sat up until he got up in the morning and her shaking body had calmed down. It irritated him. It was her who always insisted Nathalie would get through this, why should she get his sympathy when her mind tells her differently in her sleep?
He waited for her breathing to slow down again and for her to relax and sink, hesitantly, back into bed and lie awake. However, tonight she got up and out of the bed. He heard her put on her dressing gown and walk across the wood floor with her bare feet and open the door. Then, when she closed it quietly, he, too, sat up and stared, suspiciously at the door.
Carter opened the bedroom door in time to see Abby slip into Nathalie's room. He followed her quickly and opened the door to see her watching Nathalie sleeping in the cot. Her arm hung down in the cot and stroked their baby daughter's cheek.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, suddenly. Abby jumped and turned.
"Christ, John," she gasped. "Don't sneak up on me like that." She had one hand on her chest and the other cold pale hand shook violently; he doubted that this was due to the fright he just gave her, but more likely to be the after effects of her regular nightmare.
"What are you doing?" he repeated.
"I just wanted to see her, is that not allowed?" she replied, having regained some of her composure.
"Just checking to see that she's not dead yet?" he raised one eyebrow. "Don't think I don't know what you've been losing sleep over every night."
"They're just dreams, John," she told him, but she didn't sound convinced.
"Are you starting to believe what all the doctors have said, now?" he asked her. "Have you taken into account her chance of survival?"
"She's going to live, John," Abby answered, firmly. "She's going to get through it." Carter shook his head in mock pity.
"If you can't even face reality now, then I feel sorry for you," he snarled. Abby looked at him defiantly but her eyes brimmed with tears and she was fighting to keep herself under control.
"No, I feel sorry for you, John," she replied, her voice shaking with emotion. "I feel sorry for you. You never let yourself get close to her. You don't touch her. You can't even look at her. I feel sorry that you can't even have enough hope and faith to let yourself love her anymore."
He stared at her. He didn't know what to say. Well, what could he say? Everything she had said was true. Abby looked at the floor, unable to watch him confirm that everything she had not wanted to believe was true.
"I think you should go," she said in a low voice.
* * *
By the time Nathalie woke up the next morning, her Daddy had packed up and left; and all the while she was changed, dressed and fed, her Mommy had tears streaming down her face.
Carter lay in the bed and stared angrily at the ceiling as though it had somehow offended him. Beside him, Abby thrashed about in her sleep, murmuring and weeping softly. He did his best to ignore her, but she had done this ever since Nathalie fell ill; it wasn't very hard to guess what recurring nightmare was plaguing her.
Suddenly, she sat bolt upright in bed, breathing fast. This was how her dream ended every night, in the early hours of the morning. Carter closed his eyes; he didn't want her to talk to him about it. She was being stupid; nothing bad was going to happen just because she dreamt it. Usually she just sat up until he got up in the morning and her shaking body had calmed down. It irritated him. It was her who always insisted Nathalie would get through this, why should she get his sympathy when her mind tells her differently in her sleep?
He waited for her breathing to slow down again and for her to relax and sink, hesitantly, back into bed and lie awake. However, tonight she got up and out of the bed. He heard her put on her dressing gown and walk across the wood floor with her bare feet and open the door. Then, when she closed it quietly, he, too, sat up and stared, suspiciously at the door.
Carter opened the bedroom door in time to see Abby slip into Nathalie's room. He followed her quickly and opened the door to see her watching Nathalie sleeping in the cot. Her arm hung down in the cot and stroked their baby daughter's cheek.
"What are you doing?" he hissed, suddenly. Abby jumped and turned.
"Christ, John," she gasped. "Don't sneak up on me like that." She had one hand on her chest and the other cold pale hand shook violently; he doubted that this was due to the fright he just gave her, but more likely to be the after effects of her regular nightmare.
"What are you doing?" he repeated.
"I just wanted to see her, is that not allowed?" she replied, having regained some of her composure.
"Just checking to see that she's not dead yet?" he raised one eyebrow. "Don't think I don't know what you've been losing sleep over every night."
"They're just dreams, John," she told him, but she didn't sound convinced.
"Are you starting to believe what all the doctors have said, now?" he asked her. "Have you taken into account her chance of survival?"
"She's going to live, John," Abby answered, firmly. "She's going to get through it." Carter shook his head in mock pity.
"If you can't even face reality now, then I feel sorry for you," he snarled. Abby looked at him defiantly but her eyes brimmed with tears and she was fighting to keep herself under control.
"No, I feel sorry for you, John," she replied, her voice shaking with emotion. "I feel sorry for you. You never let yourself get close to her. You don't touch her. You can't even look at her. I feel sorry that you can't even have enough hope and faith to let yourself love her anymore."
He stared at her. He didn't know what to say. Well, what could he say? Everything she had said was true. Abby looked at the floor, unable to watch him confirm that everything she had not wanted to believe was true.
"I think you should go," she said in a low voice.
* * *
By the time Nathalie woke up the next morning, her Daddy had packed up and left; and all the while she was changed, dressed and fed, her Mommy had tears streaming down her face.