The Great Escape: Cry

{Now that the rain is falling, I should have seen it coming.}

I knew from my drug problem, that Kevin was extremely angry when I took the pills. In the space of two days, I had revealed that I had a drug problem again, and that our fact that our daughter had been pregnant.

“Key?”

“Sophie gave it to me last year. I didn’t realize that I still had it, until we had moved to Fort Marshall.”

Looking through all the pages, he finally turned to the last page. I watched the expression on his face, secretly wondering if he would comment on her ultrasound and the picture of the plus sign on the pregnancy test.

“If this is Sophie’s album, then why is there a pregnancy test and ultrasound?” I sat there, watching the wheels turn in his mind: putting it all together. “Are you saying that our daughter is pregnant?”

“Was. She was pregnant.”

His jaw turned rigid, that he could hardly get everything out. “What do you mean that she was? Did she have the baby? Give it up for adoption? Tell me what she did, because I would 

like to know.”

“She lost the baby, Kevin. Our daughter miscarried the baby that she was carrying. She couldn’t she tell us that she was pregnant in the first place.”

For a moment, he looked stunned, but the anger returned. He stood from his place beside me, pacing back and forth. “There was no ‘us’, Jackie. It was just you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? She’s our daughter!”

“How long have you known?”

“Since last Christmas. But I didn’t know that she was pregnant until she brought me that album.”

“And you didn’t think that it was a good idea to tell me about this?”

“And what would you have done if you knew, Kevin?” I spat back, standing from my place. 

“You should have seen the look on her face, when she knew that you’d be disappointed in her. She had big crocodile tears in her eyes that I haven’t seen since she was five. Our daughter knew that it would have destroyed your career if you found out. It’s better that she told someone, than no one at all.”

“Do you think I wouldn’t listen?”

“Are you hearing yourself right now? Sophie is your daughter too. Your only daughter, who didn’t want to disappoint you. Who lost the lost the baby inside of her. We might not know what that feels like—but she does.”

“You know we need to talk about her about this.”

“I know.” I breathed out, suddenly drained. “But I can’t talk about this anymore right now.”

“Fine.”

“You’re on your own for dinner. I think I’m going to have to lie down.” I felt lightheaded, but luckily I was able to keep myself upright as I walked over and made my way up the stairs.

I learned awhile ago, to let Kevin have his space. Besides, this was more than your normal argument, and it was possible that it would take awhile before everything blew over this time.

Hearing the slamming of cabinets and clanking of pans, I drew my arms up to my chest, listening to the sounds of the house and tried to ward off the dizziness that had crept in.

When that didn’t work, I closed my eyes and was just starting to fall asleep when he came into the room. He slipped off his belt, hitting it against side of the dresser. It was hard to tell if he had done it purposely—or if it had hit against it because he was standing too close to the dresser when he took it off.

I gritted my teeth in irritation as I looked over my shoulder. I watched him change into some shorts and an old army t-shirt, then turn out the light without so much as a glance in my direction.

He sighed and relaxed into his pillow, only to turn again a few minutes later. And that’s how it stayed for the most part. But even after a half an hour later, I could tell that he wasn’t the only one that hadn’t been granted with sleep.

Suddenly, I felt very awake. My eyes had adjusted to the darkness as I looked at the clock; the green numbers informing that it was now after midnight. The more that my thoughts took over, the more that I had a sudden urge for some wine—with a dash of pills on the side.

It was possible relief, when I finally heard his breathing even out, around one. I escaped downstairs as quietly as I could. I didn’t dare turn on any lights until I got to the kitchen.

I heated up some soup on the stove and sucked at it quietly. I thought about how my daughter was so much like me: following in my footsteps and hiding deep secrets.

It made me feel guilty; left me feeling like a horrible mother, who suddenly didn’t want her children following her example. Who continually put her husband through hell—physically withdrew from her, like she did to him.

Leaving the bowl in the sink with a clank, I almost gasped at how loud the sound was to my ears. Yet, it sparked anger; an impulse that had me throwing open the cabinets and pulling out the pots and pans.

My sudden calm demeanor didn’t care that my ears were ringing—or that I was waking up the sleepy world in the middle of the night. Tears were now running down my cheeks, as I grasped at each handle with desperate pleasure as they hit the floor with a continually clank.

I continued, until I heard him shouting through all the chaos. “Key—stop.” He pulled me back, and I let out a deep sob as my back touched the counter.  My legs almost gave out as he caught me from sliding to the floor.

As angry as I knew he was at me—he held me close and allowed me to cry, until I was staring across the kitchen in silence.

I felt exhausted; my eyes stung, the muscles in my jaw were tense, and my throat burned from all the crying. I was spent—yet felt wrecked and wild. His touch was soothing, but at the same time it felt irritating and I didn’t feel like I deserved his love. That if I told him the truth with how I was really feeling, he would send me away again.

“I’m not letting you go, until you tell me you’re okay.” He pressed his fingers underneath my chin, but I looked away. I couldn’t look into his eyes, because I could already see all the unanswered questions that needed answers.

Swallowing, I let my cheek rest against his body. I was too tired to answer what he wanted to know. I knew that he was accustomed to staying up all night, but I just wanted to fall asleep right there, so I slowly pressed my hand against his chest and stood upright. “I’m okay.”

He looked at me intensely as one hand wrapped around me, while his thumb brushed away the tears from my cheek. His expression told the story that he didn’t really believe my words, but he let go.

I wondered what we should do now. Would he walk away? Would I? Would we start arguing again? Would he call me out on not speaking the truth? That those were only the words that he wanted to hear?

Taking a step back, my legs felt like jello and I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t have to ask as my eyes flickered up to his. “Let’s get you to bed.” He helped me up the stairs and into bed. 

He covered me up, and I was out as soon as I closed my eyes.

And when I opened them again, I was slightly disoriented. I knew that it was early, and that I was tired and worn. The whole night felt like it had been some bad nightmare—especially when I opened my eyes and found that Kevin wasn’t there.

His side of the bed had gone long cold; the bathroom door ajar and empty. I got up slowly and threw on my robe and walked downstairs. The kitchen was empty and clean. The pots and pans that I had thrown out of the cabinets were placed neatly back into place. The dishes in the sink were gone, and I turned to see a scribbled note from Kevin.

Jackie,

I went to work for awhile, but I’ll try to be home early tonight. Be dressed and showered by eleven—you’re getting out of the house today.

-Kevin