Lethe Vita

Chapter 44

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER MAY BE A TOUGH READ, FOR NUMEROUS REASONS.

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

-x

Moving could have helped.

It should have helped, had the realtor not queried if they were looking for a place to start a family.

Realtors should not have been permitted to ask such invasive questions.

No, she had said; no, they absolutely were not.

She had left the room, hearing her boyfriend explain, "We recently lost our son."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the realtor had said. "How old?"

"Twelve weeks."

"Infancy?"

"Twelve weeks in the womb," she had shouted from the next room. "My body rejected him because my mother was a psychopath who wanted the three of us dead; my mistake, I mean, my aunt."

The realtor had been flustered.

"I'm so sorry" was said again.

"I don't think this one's the place for us," she had said. "Next, please."

I'm so sorry.

They were all sorry, every last one of them.

None of them could understand; none but Kelly.

Except Valerie had decided that she couldn't be as upset as Kelly, who had been diagnosed with endometriosis on top of her miscarriage.

Valerie's, she thought, could have been easily avoided if Abby hadn't been in the mix.

She had gone to the fucking bereavement group Dylan had swayed her toward, one David had been told dealt specifically with grieving parents.

She couldn't be as upset as those parents, either.

They had lost fully developed children to various incidents ranging from illnesses to accidents. They had experienced lives with their children.

She had walked out of the group halfway in.

David had suggested a group for those who had also experienced miscarriages.

The closest any of their stories came to hers was the story shared of the miscarriage that had been the result of a domestic abuse situation by the person's partner.

None of them mentioned that their mother had killed their baby, the way her mother had killed hers.

Valerie had walked out of that meeting early, too.

David had attempted to get her to a third.

She hadn't budged on her adamant stance that whilst a bereavement group may have helped Dylan, it wouldn't help her.

The pills; those helped.

The pills helped her deal with the home that could have been; the home that could never be without her Daniel.

Maine hadn't been home when they had decided to forego Thanksgiving and treat it like any other day. It hadn't been home when they had returned from Christmas in Porvoo, when David had wanted to discuss a trip to Long Island and Valerie had responded by locking herself in the bathroom. It hadn't been home during New Year's, when he had decided a night out would be good for her and she had tried to act like it was.

Her brother was the only reason she stayed.

Cousin; brother, whatever he was.

"Brother," he said, looking worse for the wear. "I told you. I'm still your brother. Your brother, who thinks you should go to Long Island."