Heart of Darkness


I don't have it, the courage I mean. I'm there again. The dark night of my soul, its descended on me like a thunder storm. The first night when I succumbed to sleep inebriated and exhausted I fell into a hellish nightmare of blood and death and birth, and its been the same every time I sleep since. Dani, Jasna, Marko, Abby, our baby all a muddle of pain and death and sorrow. Dani's moaning, Jasna's crowning and then its not Dani, its Abby, but she's not in labor she's lying trapped, bleeding and dying. Marko's smiling up at me one minute and then everything's falling in around us, and I can't find him. Always in the background a baby is crying, and I can't find it, I can never find the baby. I dread falling asleep. It's always different but always terrible. I wake with a start, so grateful to be out of there, and all I can do is reach for Abby. I'm overwhelmed by the need to make her live again. I want to consume her, I want to block it all out just for a moment, I want . . .I don't know what I want. It's as if taking her is the only way I can know she's alive. Strangely I feel like it's the only thing keeping me alive. Her mouth under mine, being inside her. But its not gentle, its savage, desperate and raw, and I cry after to think that when I fall asleep she'll die all over again.

If the nights are hellish, the days are barren. I feel helpless, hopeless. What do I do how do I get out of this? I write. I write about my babies, my children. I write everything I can remember, everything I don't want to forget. It's so hard because I know I've already forgotten a million things. I can't understand why they died and I didn't. I would have for them. I would have traded places. Then it's worse because if I die for them, I obliterate Abby's baby. You see? I can't win anymore. There's no turning back. Its them or its the baby. It's like gall in my soul. I always had that before. I could die for them or I could change what I did and save them somehow. Leave Vulkovar when Dani wanted, take them with me to the store, anything just something different. Now I can't save them, not even in my mind because then I'm extinguishing someone else I love, and I'm letting Abby go. I never could give one up to save the other. It's the same hell played out in my mind over and over.

Abby's staying home from work to be with me. I hate what I'm doing to her. It's not fair. She's been so strong. I know that I could tip her over the edge into her own abyss. It's a fucking nightmare, all of it. I can't sleep more then a couple of hours at a stretch. I try to eat for Abby, she wants me to, but I can't keep it down. I'm cold and then I'm sweating and shaking. I wonder again, if I'll just die, without even trying, just melt away, disappear. And sometimes I hope that I do.

Its morning of the third day, I'm sitting trying to eat something. I watch Abby do the dishes, her hands moving, her shoulders squared. She's not going to do this with me. I mean she is, she's trying. But I know she won't stay here with me indefinitely. She's beyond that. She did it once before, but she won't again be tied to a ghost. She's a mother now she has to think of her baby . . .my baby . . .our baby. I'm proud of her, and I'm terrified too. I can lose them both. Some other man will love my wife, raise my baby. I know it. What will that accomplish? What will it prove? Nothing, not one damn thing.

I go upstairs and as always the food won't stay down. I look at myself in the mirror. I look like hell, like death. Damn you Kovac, you're not doing this. YOU ARE NOT DOING THIS. Pull yourself together, you find a way, find a way. I'm so cold. I get in the shower and turn it up as hot as I can stand. I can't save them, my babies, my children. I have to let it go. I have to save myself. I cry, my tears mingling with the water from the shower. My arms braced against the wall to hold myself up. When I'm done crying I say it out loud "Enough."

I go downstairs and find Abby. She tries to smile at me. I can't smile but I do manage to find my voice. I tell her to go to work. She needs to leave the tomb I've built here. I take her hand, her ring, its still there, there's still time. She wants to talk, but I need to figure this out for myself. This isn't about Abby right now. It's about me. Time to sink or swim.

I go into the garden. It looks bleak, the earth I dug, barren and empty like a graveyard waiting to be filled, like my soul. Time to fill in some of the holes. When she leaves for work, I go to a nursery and wander for a bit. I'm not sure what I'm looking for until I see them in the back against the wall. Trees. Small, but they'll grow. I look at each one, finally choosing a sweet almond for Jasna, almonds like the color of her eyes and a little cherry tree for Marko, red cherries like his cheeks. I take them home and plant them, and I give them water. I sit down near them, and I write some more. This time I write letters, one to Jasna, and one to Marko. I tell them how much I loved them, how happy being their father made me, that I'll always be their Tata, and that they are going to have a new brother or sister. I tell them stories about my life, my work, the house, Abby, the garden, their trees. And, I tell them that I'll always remember them. I promise to tell the baby stories about his guardian angels, his brother and sister.

For the first time in a long time I'm hungry, I eat dinner and it stays down finally. I'm so tired I can't even keep my eyes open long enough to wash the dishes, so I give up and fall asleep.

I dream this time that I'm in a fog alone, the baby's still crying. Except there's no one dying. No one to be saved but myself, and a baby to find and love. When I wake, Abby's there and I take her hand, this time it's enough, and I fall asleep again.

By the time I wake up again she's gone. At first I'm scared and reaching for her, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. Then I realize she's gone to work, and I can quiet myself. I get up and look in the mirror. Today's the day. I'm going to get ready for my baby. You see I'm going to be a father. So I get the paint Abby picked out a lifetime ago and a new carpet. I work all day on the nursery. Living a life alone and miserable is no way to honor my children. But maybe, being a good father again is.

Later that night, I find Abby standing in the nursery, her mouth open, her eyes wide.

"Hey" I feel like I haven't spoken in years.

Its all before me again, I take a deep breath and muster my courage. Then I reach out and take hold of my wife, of my baby . . .of my life.