The Struggles of Growing Up-Completed

Chapter 32

"I can't believe I'm not pregnant anymore." I whisper to him, while he's packing my things in a suitcase. Today I leave the hospital.

He looks up from the suitcase and gives me a sad look. It's not sympathy, it's just mutual sadness. He walks over to me and holds me in his arms. "I know."  He whispers back. As he strokes my hair I look out the same window I've been looking at for the past week. The window that gives me a clear view of the nurses and patients and family members. I don't ever want to look through this window again, from either side.

My heart is heavy. I never made it to Zach's house with my apology and proposal to be a family. I really don't know what's next, I just know I want to go home. I need to reevaluate some things.

We decide to visit the cemetery where our family was buried together. We sit at the bench since my broken leg prohibits me from standing. In fact, I'm in a wheelchair, which angers me. I hate feeling this helpless, this vulnerable. We're in front of my dad's plot, my grandfather's plot, our grandmothers' plots, his dad's plot...

"I don't want any more of our family to die. I don't think I could handle it." I say before I cry into his chest. It's a cold, cloudy day which is weird considering we're in the final days of August. It's as if the universe is sad today too.

"Nobody wants that. I don't want that. It just happens."

"Why?" I whisper. He strokes my hair, and I try to listen to his heartbeat. I notice my tears staining his shirt.

"I don't know," he sighs. "Emma, we're still here, together." I look up at him, and he wipes the tears off my face.

"Let's not waste whatever time we have together fighting. I'm realizing now that–that life is short." He nods and smiles. "I don't want to overthink things anymore, and I know it's late for me to say all this–"

"It's never too late, Emma." He lets go of me so I have a clear, full view of him. He continues, "Bad things have happened to us, around us, but we will get through it." I nod.

"I'm sorry, one last time, for everything." He says, and I know he means everything. And four years ago I would have brushed it off. Three months ago I would have rolled my eyes and snapped at him, gotten angry with him for taking the blame, but not now.

Now, I understand that he really means it. It's not a scapegoat, it's not to take the blame, or to punish himself. Maybe that's how it was at first, but not now. It's to be there, for me.

"I know." I say in a breathy voice. "I'm sorry too." I say, to be there for him.

And it would have been an important, beautiful moment for us, if there hadn't been a mob of reporters crowded at the entrance of the cemetery.

The security was able to give us some privacy, but our moment was tainted by the shameless paparazzi. Some are just waiting for us to leave, some are trying to yell questions like "Did Zach know you were pregnant?"

"Let's go." I tell Zach, annoyed now at their latest shriek. He agrees and instinctively puts his jacket around me when he notices me trembling. It's not really because of the cold though, people can just be so shameless. We get in the town car and the driver takes us to Zach's house.

The driver drops us off, I take one look at the familiar house and it hits me right there. The porch swing. His neat lawn. Our first kiss, our river. Our annulled marriage. Our baby.

"Emma." I sink to the ground and start to cry. The past few years go by in my head like a blur and it's as if it's sucking the energy out of my body. Zach doesn't try to make me get up or anything like that. He just kneels on the ground behind me, and hugs me. I hold onto his arms and just let the tears out.

"I–I don't know what's w-wrong with m-me." I choke out. I feel him tremble behind me.

"Oh, Emma, we've forgotten what loss feels like." I hope I never have to be reminded of this feeling.

"I was supposed to make it here, still pregnant and safe."

"I would have said yes, you know." And I do know. I know that I would have said yes too.

We finally walk inside, and Zach makes us some tea. It's not awkward or anything, it's actually nice. We sit in silence with the steaming mugs in front of us. Somehow us not saying a word makes me feel better. We're not fighting, arguing, disagreeing, talking about sad things, lamenting about what could have or should have been. But there is one thing that I still can't get over.

"Who was the drunk driver?" I ask, cutting the silence that lasted about six and a half minutes. He looks up from his mug, adjusts his glasses, and purses his lips. It's the first time I bring it up since he told me how I got in the accident.

"Zach, I just need to know." I tell him, trying to put confidence in my words. I know he knows that it will take a while for either of us to really accept this. He sighs.

"His name is Kyle Madison. He's a 20 year old college student who was driving to a party, after drinking at another party. He's still in the hospital, but the D.A. is pressing charges for intoxicated manslaughter and a felony account." He says carefully, and reaches for my hand across the table.

"I need to talk to him."

"Emma-"

"No, I do. I want to know what in his right mind possessed him to do such a stupid thing. And we are not taking any settlement. It's not about the money." I cross my arms.

"I know, but I'm coming with you, to talk to him."

I sigh, just because that's how stubborn I am, but I also smile, because I love him. And I need love right now. 

***

The District Attorney doesn't let me or Zach talk to him, my doctor doesn't think it's good for me, but I am stubborn.

I think it's a bittersweet quality.

In a slight daze, I approach the door to Kyle Madison's hospital room. An unspecified source told me he's being discharged today, so it's now or never. And I need this closure, although I don't know what I even want to say to him. I have a lot on my mind, but I can't really form coherent sentences or questions. 

I lost Zach somewhere in the third floor after we asked a nurse what room he's in, and they denied us entrance. He suggested we try to go back to the DA to get some sort of meeting with him but I couldn't wait. Now I'm here and I'm alone and I regret it. I text Zach quickly the room number, and tell him to be extra discreet. 

"Emma, sometimes I can't keep up with you." He says while finally walking up to me. He's slightly out of breath, I wouldn't be surprised if he took the stairs to get here. He doesn't like to occupy the elevator when there's other people who need it more. 

"Sh!" I tell him and yank him over to the side to avoid being seen. 

"Honey, our faces are plastered on magazines. Me saying 'Emma' probably won't make a difference." I chuckle. 

"Oh, Emmaline, it's so nice to see you smile." He places his hand on my cheek and I smile a little more. 

"Ready?" I ask him. He nods, and I walk in without even knocking.