Fulfillment(57)

I didn’t have much to say to her anyway, not being the type to talk to a stranger about my inner most feelings— irrespective of her training and university degree. Bryce appeared to feel the same way, but I expected he would eventually talk to Dr. Toffee-Nosed-Carrot-Top Jessica, which was fine. He could obviously confide in her and was comfortable with her, and I was glad he would have someone to share his grief with other than me.

She must be one hell of a good psychologist despite her demeanour, because she had helped Bryce in the past. And she dealt with Gareth and his illness on a weekly basis. I sure as hell wasn’t going to confide in her, though. There was no way I would be entrusting her to help me heal—no way. She made it very clear when we first crossed paths that she did not like me.

***

Later that night when all was quiet, Bryce and I finally had a chance to talk. We were lying next to each other in my rather large hospital bed, in my rather nice hospital room that I’m thinking Bryce had a hand in organising.

“You should go home and get some proper rest,” I said softly, as he rested his head on mine and gently stroked my arm with his thumb.

“No. I’m not leaving you here alone. And anyway, I don’t want to be alone either.”

I tilted my head to look up at him, tears filling my eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“Hunny, don’t. Don’t do this to yourself again. It’s not your fault,” he said sternly.

I tried desperately to choke back my tears. “But it is. I fell. I was rushing to come and see you, to help you. It is my fault. The thing is, I’m sure I put my heels on properly...but maybe I didn’t...I can’t really remember, my memories are all mixed.”

I couldn’t help but keep thinking about it though, replaying it over and over in my head, recalling things that I didn’t think happened but I couldn’t be sure. The uncertainty scared me so I tightened my arm which was lying across his chest.

“What do you mean, your memories are all mixed?” he asked, curiously.

“Well, I keep having these flashbacks or visions where I stop and look at my shoes before I go down the stairs. They are secure on my feet. I know they are, because I look at them the whole time I fall.”

I closed my eyes momentarily in an attempt to get back the visions I had been seeing over the course of the last couple of days. I reopened them and looked sorrowfully up at Bryce. “I don’t know how I slipped...”

I tore my eyes away from his and dropped my head back down to his chest, feeling stupid for saying it. “I know...it’s crazy. It’s probably just my sub-conscious trying to help me feel less guilty. I don’t know...” I sighed, “If that is the case, it really isn’t working.”

“Hunny, your mind will play all kinds of tricks on you. It’s life’s cruel way of getting you to sort through your grief, your guilt and your sadness so that you can move on. It’s one of those fucked up lessons we have to learn.”

I squeezed him tighter, appreciative, but equally saddened by his knowledge of despair. He, of all people, knew how to deal with grief and loss and what steps to take in order to heal. He also knew how to bear guilt.

“Thank you. Thank you for not hating me, because God knows I hate myself.”

“Alexis, I could never hate you. I love you so much, it’s unfathomable. Seeing you lying lifeless at the bottom of the stairs scared the absolute shit out of me.” He took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. “I keep fucking replaying it in my head, and each time it makes me ill. I thought you were dead. Then I saw the blood on your dress and I knew...well...I just knew.” He shook his head as if to shake away the horrifying vision. “I don’t want to think about it. You’re safe, and you’ll heal. We both will.”

He tightened his grip on me without causing any pain. I was still tender and bruised on the ribs and lower abdomen.

We fell asleep that way, holding each other, comforting each other, supporting each other, allowing one another to grieve in a manner that only we knew how. A small part of both our hearts had been torn away and would be lost forever.

I knew deep down that time healed the wounded and heartbroken, and I was confident that time would do just that for us. I knew this, because at the end of this tragedy we had each other and that would never change.





***

Day 3, after surgery

Day three was kind of a blur. Dr. Rainer came to the hospital to explain the details of my miscarriage. She said the force of my pelvis hitting the steps had detached the placenta and ruptured my cervix. She also explained that while I was under anaesthesia for the surgery on my ankle, a dilation and curettage was performed in order to remove the baby and placenta from my uterus.