She stares at it in her motionless
hands. Nothing has ever felt so heavy or looked so grotesque. Why was it pink,
as if regardless of the answer the recipient would be happy? Either way it
would have been a cruel, sick joke. “A blessing,” some would say. Maybe to
them. They don’t have to go through the whole nine months of expanding on to
feel like they are exploding at the end. And who the hell came up with the nine
months crap? It’s ten months. Ten long egregious months. Tears sting her eyes
and she throws the stick at the bathroom mirror wishing the mirror would have
shattered in sympathy with her shattered heart.
“Belle, we need to get going. Isaac’s
appointment is in thirty minutes.”
“I’m coming,” she shouts through the
bathroom door. She pulls her torn and faded jeans up around her waist. She is
too thin to be growing a human. She can’t remember the last time she ate. There
didn’t seem to be a point.
“Mama!” Isaac bangs on the door
breaking the floodgate that was retaining Belle’s tears. After splashing warm
water on her weathered face, Belle looks at her eyes. They were cherry red and
puffy, but there was no color left. Her once lively blue eyes were now glazed
over and grey. She had given up. There wasn’t a purpose, but now? Now there was
a suffering child in her womb.
Belle picks up the treacherous stick
and buries it in the trashcan before exiting the room. Max is escorting Isaac
to the car and Belle looks at the stairs as a Godsend. It could be an accident.
That’s what she could tell them anyway. Each step is looking at her. Welcoming the
fall, reaching their arms out to her, willing to accept her as one of their
own. She leans forward, carelessly.
“Belle?” Max looks up at his wife
confusion painting his face.
“I’m fine,” she says and walks down
the stairs grinding her teeth at her failed attempt. They leave the house and
Max locks up while Belle gets into the Suburban. The vehicle that was supposed
to be perfect for a huge family. The thought made Belle gag now. She looked
back at Isaac who was playing with a stuffed dragon. Tears stung her eyes again
as she looked at the lack of hair atop his head. Isaac looked up at his mother
and smiled his beautiful, heart-breaking smile. She chose that name because it
meant, “son of laughter.” He was, too. He was always smiling and laughing. It
wasn’t fair! He was only two!
Max enters the car and drives his
family to their new home for the foreseeable future. The hospital is huge and
too bright for a death trap. The doors open mechanically. It is as if the
architect planned a building void of anything resembling a home. He had to have
wanted to torture the families while
they stayed here. As if their lives weren’t hell already, no they needed to be
cold and sanitized as well.
“Isaac, we have been waiting for
you,” the nurse says as they enter. She is standing behind a cracked and worn
wheel-chair. Worry-free, Isaac runs to his favorite nurse and climbs into the
chair, thinking it a game. Oh, how Belle wished it could be a game.
Max wraps his arm around his wife. “It
will be okay.”
She shoves his arm away once the
nurse takes Isaac into the elevator. “How can you say that? I bore a cancerous
child! He is suffering and has been all two years of his existence and it’s all
on me! Don’t you dare tell me it’s okay. It will never be okay.”
“Belle.” Max’s eyes become glassy. “This
is no one’s fault. You can’t control cancer. It chooses its victims.”
“I should have eaten better. I
should have breastfed. I should have been a stay at home mom. I should have
been better.”
Max holds his wife as she shakes. “Shh.”
“I can’t be pregnant again,” she
cries. “Please let me get an abortion. I can’t handle bringing another child in
this world only to lose him or her like we are losing Isaac.”
Max just stares at her. The entire
world stops and the two look at one another, neither knowing how to react. “Let’s
go upstairs.”
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