Week Three — Part II
It felt like time was standing still. Life floated around her, and she was the axle, helplessly watching it spin out of control.
Alicia clutched a tissue tighter in her hand as she tried to ignore the tightening in her chest. Her tongue lie dormant, refusing to move even a minuscule and enable her to speak. This tidbit of paralysis was familiar. It had kept her in an emotional jail for years.
She needed to talk about those losses. There was no denying it. They had killed a piece of her she longed to recover. A piece that not only damaged her soul but also damaged them.
"Alicia?" said Adam. Her extended silence had led both men to ogle her, worry etched on their faces.
She blinked, attempting to refocus her gaze. So lost in her own thoughts, she forgot he was waiting to hear about a time that made her question everything she believed in. Licking her lips, she folded her hands and exhaled a deep breath.
"I had two miscarriages," she murmured, swallowing tears rising in her throat.
She peered down at the detailing of the carpet, willing herself to recall and recount those dark days.
"The first one ... the pregnancy was unexpected." She faintly smiled at the fond memory. "We hadn't talked about having another for a while before I found out. Our kids were practically teenagers, and we were about to start over." She sniffed back tears. "But that baby made me realize how badly I wanted another."
She glanced to Peter, whose silent demeanor matched her own somberness. She could tell from one look he wanted to reach out and hold her hand. To slide across the couch and crush her into the safety of his embrace. No matter how much she convinced herself he should remain at bay, she needed that. Needed to find strength in his warm embrace.
But she couldn't.
If this was taking the first step in healing, then she had to walk the path on her own first before inviting him to join.
Tucking her hair behind her ears, she balled the tissue in her fist as she swallowed hard, continuing the narrative even though she wanted nothing more than to flee from the room.
"It was such a surprise, though. Years before, when we tried to get pregnant, it was hard."
"We had fun trying," Peter whispered, his tone gruff and just as laden as hers.
"We did," she said hollowly. "Eventually, I found out I was seven weeks pregnant. I didn't know it. We were thrilled." She twirled her wedding band as an inexplainable coldness washed over, making her feel as if she would shake. "One night, we went to a charity gala. I was in my second trimester."
Her gaze darkened as she bit her lower lip and tried to control the slight rattle of her hands.
"What happened after that night?" said Adam.
Her hand flew to her mouth as she closed her eyes and tried to suppress a heart wrenching sob.
Removing his glasses, Adam dangled the frames within his fingertips as he leaned forward, mentally rehearsing steps therapists enlisted when they felt their own feelings might cloud a situation. He felt for her as she recounted this unfortunate ordeal, but at no point could he allow himself to feel swayed from her words.
He tried again. "Alicia, if you don't want to continue—"
She dabbed her eyes as she shook her head. "No." Her voice trembled, resembling more of a plea when she spoke. "I do. I need to."
Inhaling an stuttered breath, she proceeded in as much of a controlled voice as she could muster. "Two days before the gala, I had an appointment. To check-in after being on bedrest the week prior. I was good. The baby was doing good." She bit the inside of her cheek, exhaling a slow breath, willing herself to finish the story as the horrifying recollection swallowed her whole.
"That night, long after we came home, I-I woke up in pain. I tried to ignore it, reasoning if it passed, I would bring it to the attention of my doctor during an appointment later that week." She sniffed back more tears as she blotted her eyes. "The pain never went away."
Adam sat upright and slipped his glasses back over his eyes as he continued to study her. Emotionally broken in every sense of the word. This woman had experienced a significant loss and demise of her marriage in a very short duration of time. No wonder she was closed off and like a bomb waiting to explode.
Life had killed her in ways she wasn't ready for.
"The pain was so intense that …"
Peter couldn't sit there another second, watching her unravel this way.
"Honey," he whispered, his eyes pleading with her to stop.
She glanced at him. His muttered affection made her want to curl into a ball and cry until she had nothing left.
"I'm fine," she said. Straightening her back against the couch, she pressed on. "I ... I ... knew what was happening inside my body and couldn't stop it."
She blinked away tears and tried to push the image from her mind of the first time they saw their baby during an ultrasound appointment.
"Peter didn't know what was happening at first. The reality of what happened didn't sink in until he was helping me in the car for the hospital …"
Her eyes clamped shut as she dropped her head and shielded her face with her hand. The visual of their high thread count, ivory sheets drenched in a small pool of crimson flashed across her mind, threatening to sap the rest of her will to sit here and bare herself this way.
"Alicia."
This time, Peter didn't hesitate to reach for her hand. She pushed him away, again.
"No, Peter. Don't. Just ... don't."
Adam wondered if they had ever talked about this until now. Her continuance in pushing him away led him to believe they had not.
She carried this grief around for so long and hurting for so long … alone. Why did she not permit her husband to be there for her in a time she desperately needed him? Why did she not allow them both to grieve this terrible loss together?
"Alicia," Adam gently prodded, "You said you were eighteen weeks at the time of the miscarriage. At that stage, the fetus—"
"I know." She fervently nodded, trying to block horrid memories. "Peter took me to the hospital. My doctor told me I was experiencing a complicated, late miscarriage." She looked at Peter before zoning her red-laced eyes back on Adam. "They rushed me into surgery to remove … the rest …"
She tucked her lips into her mouth as she shook her head, refusing to shed another tear.
"Alicia … honey."
A sob rushed past her lips. His expression now was the same then.
Barely conscious, she pleaded with him then to prevent anyone from taking their baby. Not allow the inevitable to happen.
In the back of her mind, she knew he was helpless in the matter. He had no power over the situation other than making the choice to save her life.
"On that day, they took my baby from me. My child was, ripped, from my body. And five months after that ..." She slowly lifted her head, daring to hold it high. "I lost another baby."
She looked to Adam, staring back at her with the sincerest eyes, and then to Peter, who appeared as if he was dying inside.
The emotions hit her like a freight train in that moment. Her strong facade crumbled in seconds as she covered her mouth to silence her weeps and bolted up from the couch.
"Excuse me," she mumbled, disappearing into the side bathroom next to the bookcase.
Adam watched her retreat and then looked back to Peter. He gaped at the shut bathroom door, completely at a loss for words. Clearly he was feeling the same.
No words seemed appropriate to describe what he had just heard except: Wow. No wonder they were in this current state of despondency while teetering on the edge of recovering what was defunct. They had endured a loss and betrayal in a time frame that most couples never experience in a lifetime, or in such a short amount of time.
"I'm going to go check on her," said Peter as he rose from the couch.
He sat idly while she had her moment, struggling to resist the urge to catch her as she free-falled into the abyss of suffering.
"Peter, it is okay. It has barely been a minute. Give her a moment."
Adam could see he badly wanted to go to her. To be there for her now, as she didn't allow him then. But going to her right now, was not a good idea.
"I can't just sit here."
Adam nodded. "I understand. I know you want to comfort. But if Alicia did not want you to do so while she was sitting there beside you, I doubt she does now. She needs a minute alone." He laid out his hands, as if showing him the pros and cons of acting on his impulses. "Allow her that."
Peter glanced at him, seeming to consider what he said, before he decided to hell with it and acted on those warned impulses. He walked the short distance to the frosted glass door and knocked lightly.
Adam lowered his head and shook it, knowing everything, the strong progress that was just made, was about to go downhill.
"Alicia?" He jingled the doorknob. "Babe, are you alright in there?"
He was mindful to keep his tone of voice level. The urge to protect her, to hold her until everything was alright again, had him rooted on the other side.
Alicia studied her blood-shot eyed reflection, then glanced at the closed door.
She had come in here to splash water on her face and clean up. Make herself look somewhat presentable before going back out there. That plan failed. For when she closed the door and turned, her eyes rested on the toilet, generating both instances of each miscarriage to flood her mind.
She remembered returning home from the hospital after the first.
Remembered how her breasts leaked of milk for a week and how she bled for two more. Remembered how she would lie awake at night, unable to sleep from trying to envision the tiny flutters in her belly she had grown accustomed to feel.
All were painfully vivid reminders of the life she carried for months, and without warning, it was ... gone.
"Alicia, talk to me," pleaded Peter.
Snapping back to the present, she pictured him on the other side.
She knew he was desperate to fulfill a role he had practically begged her to those years ago, and even now, she wouldn't let him. It wasn't fair, but it was the only way she knew to protect herself until she was ready.
Wiping her eyes with the cool towel clenched in her hand, she inhaled a deep breath and brushed her hair back from her face. She had to go back out there. No matter how much she wanted to stay in this room alone, she had to face the music.
Tossing the towel in the waste bin, she smoothed a hand down her stomach and turned the doorknob.
It felt like years had passed for Peter when she finally opened the door. Her sad eyes no longer mirrored hurt, but now annoyance and dare he say … anger?
"I'm fine," she snapped and brushed past him.
He stepped back, aghast. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, Peter." She settled back onto the couch and he followed suit.
Adam scrutinized their actions, wondering himself what had caused such a switch in her attitude.
If he had to guess, he would attribute it to a common, emotional defense.
When patient's felt—during therapy—too enveloped in an unwanted period of their lives, they would often dissociate from those feelings, and sometimes that memory altogether. They would adopt a completely opposite behavior.
He recognized Alicia enlisting this behavior. She wasn't an individual comfortable expressing her innermost feelings. She had done her part. Sang her song. She had let him see a piece.
Now she deflected.
Disassociated herself with that weak woman by reverting to the angry and compartmentalized individual he met during their first session.
Flipping open his notepad to a fresh page, he eyed them over the brim of his glasses.
"Are you sure you feel fine to continue the session today, Alicia? I know how hard that was for you to talk about."
She nodded. "I'm fine."
Peter stared at her like she had lost her mind. Composed and alert. A far cry from the woman that sat here minutes ago. What did she do in the bathroom?
"Okay," Adam intoned. "Then I would like to discuss what prompted you to share your miscarriages. You said your mother-in-law questioned your role as a mother because of them. Can you explain?"
"After the first miscarriage, I was a shell. I … suppose some might say I was in a temporary depression. Once I lost the second baby ... I wasn't myself for months. I think she more so questioned my mental ability to, raise our children."
"She said that to you?"
"More or less, yes."
"When did she tell you that?" Both of them looked at Peter, surprised at his outburst. He sucked his teeth and shook his head. "My mother did not tell you that."
Is he calling me a liar? Whipping her head around to face him, she laughed in disbelief.
"How would you know, Peter? You were too busy screwing other women to know what was happening at home!"
Lowering his head, he held it in his hands. When she would stop going back there?! He was beyond tired of this argument.
"Alicia, that has nothing—"
"When was the first time?" Her voice shook, reflecting in a trio of fear, hurt and rage.
She couldn't stop herself. His assertion reminded her of all the times she cried herself to sleep, wishing he was there.
"Huh?" she pressed. Facing him, her heart raced as anger charged through every bone in her body. "Was it after I lost the second? After I denied you sex twice?"
She no longer cared Adam sat within mere inches. She had been careful to reveal only so much in these sessions. But after sharing the experiences of her miscarriages, there was nothing left to hide.
Peter shot a look her way and loosened his tie. Leaning forward, he linked his fingers together and exhaled, determined not to strike back.
"Let's not go there. Especially now."
Unfolding her hands, she scoot towards the edge of the seat, eyes narrowed. When he looked at her, the deep sadness triggered fresh tears as the betrayal encased her heart.
"Why not? You don't want to admit to Dr. Lewis how much of a bastard you are? That while I was shut down in a state of grief, you went out and spent thousands on another woman for sex?!"
Adam's eyebrows rose so high he was certain they touched the ceiling at this information revealed. He had known Peter's infidelities were bad. But the grave extent of his actions unveiled with each session, even he could not have guessed the destruction.
Peter chuckled, not believing the words she said. He was not alone in this.
"Shut down or should we say doped up, Alicia?"
Her head slowly pivoted to face him again, her mouth hung open and eyes wide.
"Yeah." He leaned across the space toward her. "You thought I didn't know you were addicted to pain medicine?"
She faltered, not believing he had said what she heard. But as he continued to sit there, mute, it was then the sinking feeling swelled in her gut. She heard right. That was a time in her life she had wanted to forget.
"I was not addicted. The surgery had me in bedridden for weeks! You knew that."
"For a few weeks. Not months, Alicia! Not for two months after you had the first miscarriage. It got so bad you couldn't get through the morning without having your daily dose of morphine."
She opened her mouth to speak but quickly closed it. He knew that? Or was she just too high then to register that he noticed?
Never in her life had she hit rock bottom until then.
Sure, she had her share of disappointments, and learned over the years to suck it up and move on. But never had she hit the lowest of lows once she lost her unborn children. Everything she thought was true, shattered. Even the love of her children couldn't rescue her from the failure and heartache that consumed her daily.
Prescribed morphine to help with the bodily pain, also helped with the emotional suffering. It grew easy to numb the never-ending sorrow by upping her dosage a little more here and there.
All of which she never thought he noticed.
Adam's hand rapidly flew across his notepad as he scribbled down this information.
"I wasn't addicted," she repeated.
Peter raked a hand through his hair, then folded his arms and relaxed back against the seat.
"You were dependent enough. I remember the day I came home to find you passed out in the middle of our bed. I thought you had overdosed." He stared at her, his piercing gaze hard and challenging. "I guess I'm supposed to believe that was 'grief', too?"
Fury surged through her at a lightening speed.
She couldn't control her hand when it rose into the air, and swung across the space between them to land on his cheek, hitting him so hard the force caused his face to turn. He palmed his jaw, staring at her in utter shock.
"HEY!" Adam leaped from his chair as he strode around the coffee table to stand in front of them. He wore a mixed expression shock and reprimanding. "Alicia, I know you are upset. But I will not condone a physical retaliation of any kind in my office."
Her chest rose and fell as she glared up at Adam before turning to Peter. She was absolutely livid.
Of all things, they never spoke about that day. Even after it happened, after he found her in bed, they never mentioned it ever again.
She thought it was an unspoken vow they shared. That it happened. She had a bad day, and well, her emotions got the best of her. It was a poor judgement call, and both were thankful he came home at the right time. But she bounced back after that … moment. Realized what had almost happened and did what she needed to get over the drowning melancholy.
There was too much to live for.
Peter continued to rub his stinging cheek as his eyes clouded in wrath while she sat there, eyeing him down, fuming. Round two was not about to happen. She couldn't stay here any longer, couldn't handle the grave truths continuously being brought to light beyond her control.
Breaking their death stare match, she reached down to the floor for her purse.
"Alicia, no," said Adam; he took a step back, watching her rise and shoulder her handbag. She was going to flee. Again. "Stay. Please."
"I can't bear this, Dr. Lewis. Not today." She tucked her hair behind her ears. "I can't even look at him right now."
Peter scoffed as he smoothed a hand over his reddened face. "You don't think I was hurting?" he said lowly. "I lost two children, too, Alicia."
She ignored him as she strutted towards the door. Adam strolled back to his chair and remained a safe distance. Careful to not be in the line of their fire, but close enough to intervene if needed.
Peter stood from the couch. He stared at her hard. Like he dared her to leave, and if she did, so help him he was going to run after her. She would hear what he had to say.
"Run. That's your favorite thing to do, isn't it? When all the chips have fallen, you don't pick up the pieces. You run."
She turned around to face him, her chest swiftly rising and falling, hands planted firmly on her hips.
"Perhaps I don't want to sit here and listen to my husband call me a drug addict and accuse me of attempting suicide during a difficult time in my life."
"Our life, Alicia! That was a difficult time in our life and those losses were ours!"
Her stance wavered; she flinched at his words. For the first time, it was as if she comprehended this deep-seated sorrow wasn't her own. He did share it.
Peter cautiously moved towards her position by the door. He dropped his head for a moment, gazing down, trying to express his own buried frustrations.
When he lifted his head, his eyes conveyed every bit of turmoil she felt, nearly knocking her off her feet.
"I wanted more than anything to swallow a bottle of pills after I watched the doctors remove our child from your body and throw it away. As if it was a piece of garbage."
Her free arm flew around her stomach as she gasped at his words. They had sucked the very last ounce of strength she had hung onto for the last three years. Hiding her face, she concealed her cries as she gripped the doorknob, the only thing holding her upright at the moment.
He saw that?
She remembered, before she was sedated by the anesthesia, he promised to never leave her side during the procedure.
Peter watched her grapple with his confession, his heart breaking as she resembled that distraught woman those years ago. One that pushed him away and had checked out of their marriage. With vigilance, he closed in to her position, tears brimming in his own eyes.
His shoulders had dropped, a subtle sign to her: all the hurt he had felt, too, was real.
"I felt like a coward," he whispered. Alicia lowered her hand from her eyes and looked at him, fingers trembling as they came to rest on her lips. "Lost as a man ... as a husband. I didn't know how to help you. I didn't know how to save my wife. And I didn't know how to deal with what I was feeling."
Gazing into his heart broken face, although his own grief broke her heart, she could only think of one thing.
"You had a fine way of dealing with your confusion."
"You pushed me away! At the mere sight of me, you shut down." He peered into her eyes. "How do you think I felt? Whenever I so much as touched you, you shriveled up … like my touch made your skin crawl."
Alicia shook her head. She didn't care. Regardless of the fact she was emotionally unavailable, his actions were inexcusable.
"So what, Peter? That made what you did okay?" She tossed her hands up. "Because I didn't want you touching me, because I didn't even feel like a woman anymore, that made it okay for you to spend our money and go to a whore?!"
"No." He dropped his head. "I shouldn't have done that. I hate I did that to you."
"So do I!" she wailed. "You know what else I hate, Peter? That I want to forgive you. But I can't. Every time I look in your eyes, I see a prostitute and my best friend has had half of me." If words could kill, he swore she just killed him in that second. "And the worst part? I feel as if I will never get past this. I hate you hurt me when I believed you never would. Especially then."
Adam observed their frozen stance by the door. Once a few seconds had passed, and figured the venomous blows were over, he treaded carefully to their position.
"Why you don't you two have a seat? Take a moment to calm down and process all that happened in the last twenty minutes."
Alicia looked at Peter, shaking her head. She couldn't do this anymore today.
"Please, Alicia," Peter whispered. "I want to fix us. I want to work through this."
She gripped the doorknob, her feet angled towards the exit.
"Alicia, let me help you … let me help you both," Adam coaxed.
Her eyes shifted between the two of them.
All she could think of was her vulnerability. She hated feeling this way. One soul-bearing moment today was enough. But she owed it to herself, to the children she never got to meet, and to Zach and Grace. She needed to be better than she was before she walked into this room.
Reluctantly, she released her hold on the knob and walked back to the couch.
Peter mouthed a thank you to Adam as he too sat back within his spot.
Combing a hand through his salt and peppered short hair, Adam was certain he would need a drink after this session was over. As he plopped into his chair and grabbed his trusty notepad, he eyeballed the two despondent individuals before him once again, wondering where to start.
A/N: I know this chapter was heavy and probably hard to read. I struggled to write it and was hesitant in posting. Stay with me. I promise it will get better :)