Dib pulled into the garage but didn't get out of his car right away, turning it off and leaning back against the seat. He stared at the visor, counting the discs in the CD holder before reaching up and pulling the visor down. He slid two wallet-sized photos from beneath the CD sleeve band and looked at them. A young man and woman smiled at him from one, happy in their youth and innocence. Young and in love, just like all the story books and movies. He turned the photo over.
Dib & Liss
2012
Four years ago. Young and in love, just like the stories.
He spread the other print from behind it. Black and white, taken from the doorway of the hospital room. Dib leaned over the bed, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried his face in her neck. It looked sweetly tragic on the surface, a raw image of grieving parents embracing one another, but even then he'd felt the deterioration of their marriage, the washing away of love in the outcome of what should have been a blessing.
They'd found out at 14 weeks. It was rare, only 1 in over 4000 pregnancies. Dib had done so much reading about anecephaly after the diagnosis that he could spell the word forward and back, could quote medical journals. It was all he could do at the time to feel useful, feel like he had any semblance of control.
Liss elected to be induced at 25 weeks, declining abortion when they'd found out but not wanting to carry full term. Three hours into the labor they lost the heartbeat. Two hours later she'd given birth to their daughter. The hospital had offered to take family photos of them after the birth ('we can put a hat on her so you won't have to see it') but Liss declined. She asked they take the baby away immediately, she didn't want to hold her, didn't want to see her. Dib respected his wife's wishes but he wondered still, what had she looked like? Did she have his nose, Liss' lips? Did she have a lot of hair or none at all? Ultrasounds only offer so much by way of details. Only enough to tell them that their daughter wasn't whole.
They'd taken the baby away quietly, wrapped in a blanket. Liss had the ashes in a small marble box with the birth date and time on it. Dib didn't argue about who should get them in the aftermath of divorce, he felt she should stay with her mother. Three months of bereavement counseling, first as a couple, then just him. Liss had stopped going after the first few appointments. Dib continued for awhile but as time went on he found there was nothing to say, and nothing that could be said.
He turned the photo over.
2014
Her birthday would have been in August of that year. Their divorce had been finalized by then.
Dib tucked the photos back under the band and got out. He slid the key into the deadbolt and turned but it didn't click. He tilted his head slightly as he grabbed the doorknob. It turned in his hand, unlocked. He drew his gun and opened the door slowly, stepping into the dark house. Ellie meowed, strutting up to greet him, and he relaxed slightly as he closed the door behind him and peeked in the kitchen before moving into the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, nothing was taken. He searched the house thoroughly and, finding nothing, returned to the garage entrance door. He must have forgotten to lock it when he left, though the idea seemed unlikely.
Exhaustion hit him like a wave as he turned the deadbolt and he shrugged out of his coat, dropping it on the hook by the door and kicking his shoes off below it. He shed his clothes on the way to the bedroom and crawled into the welcoming arms of his bed. He was briefly aware of Ellie jumping up next to him and pressing into his side as she curled up to sleep too. One hell of a life.