Until Series(157)

“I can’t do it. I love you, but I can’t have your baby,” she cries, her voice filled with so much pain that it feels like my skin is splitting open.

“Baby, what happened to your mom and dad is not going to happen to me and you.” I feel her trying to climb into me; I hold her closer, trying to absorb some of her pain. “Your dad would want you to be as happy as possible,” I whisper into her hair, running my hands up and down her back, trying to comfort her.

“I’m af–afraid that I’ll leave a kid behind like I was left behind. I d–d–don’t want that to happen,” she stutters out, her body rocking against mine with the strength of her tears.

“Breathe, baby.” I’m trying to speak quietly, stroking my hand down her back. “You know that we can’t predict the future, but you and I not sharing the love that we have for each other with a life that we create together would be devastating to me. I love you so much more than I ever thought was possible to love another person. You have made me a better person, taught me that love—real love—is unconditional, and has no strings attached, and is given without expecting anything in return.” I pull her face away from my body so I can see her eyes. “I want to share everything with you. All the good and the bad that life has to offer, I want you by my side for all of it.

“What happens if one or both of us dies? What happens then?”

“You can’t live your life thinking ‘what if’. There are too many variables.” I tell her honestly. “Do you think that if your dad knew that he was going to leave you while he was still young, while you were still young, that he wouldn’t have wanted the time he had with you, Tim, and your mom? Or do you think that even with his time cut short, that he appreciated every single second that he had with y’all, knowing that he had his family and people who loved him.”

“He left me!” She cries harder.

“He did leave, but he never left you. He is always with you.”

“I miss him.”

“I know you do, baby,” I struggle out against the lump in my throat. “I know you do.”

“I don’t want anyone to miss me.” Her words are so quiet, that I hardly make them out.

“If something happened to you, I wouldn’t know how to go on without you. I would miss you every day; so would everyone else that you have given even the smallest amount of your time to. Every person you come in contact with is lucky to know someone like you. Knowing the kind of woman you are lets me know that when you become the mother to our children, they will be lucky, because you love so completely with everything you have.”

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Tell me,” I say, pulling her face out of my neck, looking into her eyes. As much as it would kill me to not have a child with her, if that is what she truly wanted, I would do it for her. “You don’t want a baby?” Her face goes slack; tears start to fall harder.

“When I think about never having a baby, it makes me feel sick,” she whispers. “But when I think about having a baby, I feel panic.” I nod my head in understanding.

“Have you ever talked to anyone about losing your dad?” She shakes her head. “Would you, if I went with you?”

“Do you think I’m crazy?”

“No, baby. I think that you haven’t ever had a chance to deal with losing your dad. Maybe talking to someone will help you get some closure.”

“I’m not ready to have a baby, Trevor. I love you and know that it’s something that you want, but I just…I’m not ready. I don’t know if I will ever be ready.” As much as her words make my heart ache, I know she’s right. Until she is completely ready, it wouldn’t be fair to force something on her that could give her anxiety; especially when it is supposed to be something that is celebrated.

“When, or if, you’re ever ready, we will talk about it then.”

“I don’t want to prevent you from having a family.”

“You’re my family, and if you’re all I have for the rest of my days, I will be okay with that.” She starts crying again, this time harder than before. “It will be okay, baby. One day at a time, we will work through this.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere; not without you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” I say back. “Let’s go home.”

“Please.” I walk back out of the cemetery with Liz tucked under my arm. When we reach her car, I look down at her. Her beautiful eyes are puffy and red; she looks exhausted.