Emison - We'll carry this baby together

Chapter Four (Alison)

I pull into our driveway, careful to avoid the black ice that's now overtaken all the snow. It's New Years Day and Dr. Bennet released Em from the hospital. I should be happy, but I'm not, at all. Since Emily woke up from surgery, she's been a different person entirely; depressed, cold, lifeless, unreadable. It's like all that blood she lost contained some of her personality, because I've felt like that's gone too. I understand that she'd be upset. It was traumatic and scary, but to ignore your wife and push everyone away that you love is heartbreaking to watch and unbearable to be in the middle of. Right now, she's sitting, facing away from me and staring out the window. Her hair is messy and dull, her eyes have been surrounded by dark circles for weeks now and her once golden-olive skin is now paler and cold to touch. She hasn't said a word the whole way home and the only time she spoke to me in hospital is when she needed to get up to pee or she wanted something brought to her. Trying to get through to her is like paddling upstream, I'm getting nowhere and tiring myself out. She gets out as soon as the car stops and slouches towards the front door, unlocking it and walking upstairs to bed, where, little did I know, would be her sanctuary for the next part of our lives. I get up aswell and follow Em, for fear of her hurting herself again. I know it's stupid, she's a grown woman and doesn't need babysitting or chaperoning, but I can't bear to leave her alone nowadays, not after she almost died that day.

Our house now seems as unwelcoming and as friendly as my wife: cold, unloving, not mine. I kick off my boots and walk upstairs and towards our bedroom. I'm about to open the door when I hear sobs coming from inside. I stay there for what must have been 20 minutes, maybe even half an hour, sitting outside the door, listening to Emily cry. I don't know why, but there is something comforting about it. Maybe it's because this is the first time I've seen her feel something since the accident. Maybe it's because I know I'm not the only one crying. Or maybe because I finally understand what I need to do.

When the sobbing finally stops, I stand up and open the door slowly and walk quietly inside. She's not on the bed so I turn and go into our ensuite. For the first time in weeks, I realise how beautiful Emily is. Her dark bronze hair is flung carelessly and messily over her shoulder, yet still falls perfectly in waves and ripples, and her make up free skin is glowing in the sunlight more than it has in a long time, and even though the bags under her eyes are so visibly heavy, they make her look all the more naturally stunning. I can't stand seeing her like this, she's crawled up in the bath tub, rocking back and forth, her eyes shut tightly and her hands tense. She hasn't seen me yet, so I creep carefully over to her and rest my hand on her head. She tries to speak but starts crying again, and I let her. I climb into the bath with her and let her rest against my stomach, brushing her hair through gently with my hand and rubbing her back so as to soothe her. We sit there for longer than we did on the night of our anniversary and I realise that Emily has fallen asleep. I've never loved her more than in this moment as I stare down at her loose fitting clothes and knotted hair and dirt covered nails and all her perfect imperfections. I must have fallen asleep aswell at one point and Em must have moved me, because the next thing I know, she's sitting up opposite me on our bed, watching me wake up.

A Few Weeks Later

We wake up next to each other, we kiss, we make love, we fall asleep again. I get up earlier than Emily and walk downstairs in her shirt, make coffee and go to wake her up. The medication she has to take for post surgery recovery makes her sleepy.  I may not have gotten her back completely, but I'm closer than I thought I ever would be when we sat in the car on the frosty January morning on the ride back from the hospital. She's even gone out to the cinema or to a meal with me recently. Hanna and Caleb came round the other day and had dinner with us, whilst Aria and Ezra sent get well cards and Toby sent balloons and flowers on behalf of Spence, who's come down with the flu. Everything seems almost normal.

One morning, I'm downstairs making coffee when Emily comes downstairs and stands silently behind me, completely oblivious to me, until I turn around.

'Jesus Em, you scared the shit out of me'. I jump. And then something I didn't expect to happen even in my dreams, came true. My wife opened up to me, about everything. She threw herself at me and I held her until she could speak. We sat down at the kitchen table and let the coffee go cold.

'The only thing I've ever wanted in my entire life this badly is to be a mother. And now I don't even have the eggs to make one or the womb to carry one.' She cries. I sit there and listen. I listen about how she thought she lost everything that day, how she thought her dreams were over, and how she still does. About how the strongest woman I know, sitting in front of me could break down so easily. We just talk and talk and talk. That's why I love Emily; I can understand every action, emotion and decision she's made and why she's done it when we talk. I can empathise even if it's never happened to me. I can connect with her in a way no one else can, both physically and emotionally, and she makes me feel special.