Shattered Page 2

  “There’s nothing positive about this situation.” I wipe a fresh tear from my eye.

  “Jess…” Luke leans toward me and reaches for my hand, but I lean away.

  “I can’t change the outcome with good thoughts.” I pull my feet from his lap and stand up, his words filling me with sudden defensiveness.

  Luke stands quickly and pulls me against his hard chest. He doesn’t say anything, just holds me against him. He holds me so tightly, eventually I melt against him and start to cry again.

  “I didn’t mean it like that. This isn’t anyone’s fault,” he whispers as he places his hand on the back of my head, pulling me in even closer to him.

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” I struggle to catch my breath. “I…I…I already loved this baby.”

  “Me, too,” he whispers as he strokes my hair.

  The week after the onset of the miscarriage goes by as a blur. A seemingly never-ending fog of appointments, condolences and sadness. I have some physical pain, but it’s nothing compared to the psychological hell I endure. I alternate between feelings of overwhelming sadness and indescribable emptiness. I can’t decide which feels worse, feeling too much or too little.

  Luke stays with me all week, working in small spurts on his laptop. I’ve caught him watching me on several occasions. He looks at me like he’s afraid he’ll never see the Jessica he fell in love with again. He hasn’t cried again since that first night. He must be hurting, too, but he won’t talk about it. In all fairness, every time I’ve brought it up, I start crying again and he just ends up consoling me.

  Grant returns Amelia after their ski trip to Utah on Saturday afternoon. I give her an extra-long squeeze at the door before Luke takes her inside to get a snack so I can fill my ex-husband in.

  “How was it?” I ask, trying to break the ice.

  “It was good. Amelia’s a natural on skis. I’ll have to get her out on the slopes more often.” Grant shoves his hands in his pockets. Our post-divorce interactions still carry a twinge of awkwardness, but the anger I felt about his affair has dulled considerably. I’m not sure I’ll ever be completely over the betrayal, but I’m determined to get along with him for Amelia’s sake.

  “I’m sure she’d love that.” I offer a small smile.

  “Maybe we can work out a schedule for spring break where I can take her for another week. I’d love the time with her and it would give you and Luke some alone time,” Grant offers.

  Despite Luke proposing so quickly after our divorce was finalized, Grant has been surprisingly accepting of the situation, even after I turned down his attempt at a reconciliation. It reminds me that deep down Grant is a good man. I’m not expecting him and Luke to be best friends, but their mutual civility makes things a lot easier.

  “I’m sure we can work something out.” I look at the ground, trying to come up with a smooth segue. I can’t think of one, so I just blurt out the news. “Hey, Grant. I don’t want you to hear it from Amelia…I had a miscarriage.”

  “Oh, shit.” Grant tilts his head at me and grimaces. “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Thanks. It’s been a hard week.” I admit. “I’ll tell Amelia tonight.”

  “Thanks for the heads up.” Grant looks as uncomfortable as I feel. He doesn’t know what to say any more than I do. “Has your mom been helping out?”

  “A little bit.”

  “That’s good.” Grant nods his head repeatedly.

  “Yeah.” I roll my neck. We’re both quiet, neither knowing what else to say.

  Grant finally thinks of something. “Let me know if you need me to take Amelia for some extra time.”

  “I will, thanks.”

  Grant nods and I watch him walk back to his car. I open the front door and hear Amelia’s giggles coming from the kitchen. I lean against the door jamb and soak it in for a moment longer. It’s my favorite sound in the whole world and know once I enter that room, I’m going to end it.

  Chapter 2

  With the physical pain of the miscarriage behind me, the expectation is that I begin to move on. I return to a workplace full of sympathetic looks and cliché words of encouragement. People don’t know what to say and are only trying to be supportive. It’s uncomfortable for everyone.

  I don’t feel like myself, but I have responsibilities, so I fall back on my favorite coping strategy of using work as a distraction. I’ve worked at Bianchi winery for almost nine years now, first as an accountant and then as the controller. The owner, Mrs. Bianchi, and I have a great relationship and she would completely understand if I asked for additional time off, but I can’t sit at home. I reassured her that the week I took was enough.

  Luke didn’t like the idea of me returning to work so quickly and took it upon himself to call Mrs. Bianchi to ask for some extra time off for me. As an investor in the winery, he may not deal directly with her everyday like I do, but it’s clear they have a great amount of respect for each other. When I found out, I was irritated that he wasn’t listening to what I wanted to do. Eventually he gave up his argument, but insisted on staying in town instead of returning to his business in San Francisco.

  Luke owns an investment firm with his partner, Aaron, which allows him a certain degree of flexibility in his scheduling. So he’s adjusted his usually busy travel plans, instead opting for phone calls and video conferencing. This has allowed him to work from Temecula the past two weeks.

  I wish I was enjoying the extra time with him, but his constant attention isn’t helping at the moment. He hovers, waiting for me to say something, anything to indicate that life can go back to normal. I can muster enough energy to go to work, but all I want to do when I get home is spend time with Amelia, put on some comfy pajamas and go to bed. I’m not sure when, if ever, we’ll return to our previous normal.

  Amelia was initially upset when I told her she wasn’t going to be a big sister quite yet, but she seems to be doing all right. The divorce taught me that kids are resilient and will bounce back from disappointment faster than adults tend to think. I’m sure all the extra attention from everyone has helped, too. On the evenings she’s been at home with us, Luke has been playing games with her, helping with her homework, and taking her out for dessert after I’ve thrown together some type of dinner for us.

  Amelia is at her dad’s for the weekend, so I arrive home to an empty house. Luke texted earlier to let me know he had some errands to run and he’d be home later. I run a hot bath and slip in. The water is steaming, almost too hot, but I force my body in. I feel achy even though I haven’t done anything more strenuous than walk up the stairs to my bedroom.

  I unlock the screen on my phone and open the YouTube app. I watch several funny videos of puppies learning how to go downstairs, before a video of puppies with babies pops up in my suggestions. I click on it even though I recognize the potential danger. The video is cute and I make it through without crying, so I watch another and then another. I don’t pause long enough to talk myself out of my next search. I watch a video of a young woman talking about how her miscarriage affected her relationship with her husband, followed by a video of a middle-aged woman describing how she endured multiple miscarriages before resigning to the fact that she would not be carrying a baby of her own. Tears stream down my face, mixing with sweat and melting makeup, as I click on the next video in the queue.

  “What’re you doing?” Luke’s voice startles me, and I almost drop my phone in the bath.

  “Jesus, Luke. Don’t sneak up on me like that.” I shut my phone screen and set it on the side of the tub.

  “I’ve been calling for you since I walked in the door.” He stands in the doorway, watching me suspiciously.

  “I didn’t hear you.” I grab the shampoo bottle so I can avert my eyes from his judging gaze.

  “What are you doing?” he asks again.

  “Taking a bath.”

 
As I risk a glance over to him, I see him twist his mouth. Not the answer he was looking for.

  “I was watching some videos.” I scrub the shampoo into my thick hair.

  “What kind of videos?” he presses.

  Better to get this over with. “About miscarriages,” I admit. For some reason I feel ashamed, as though I’ve been caught doing something wrong.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you think that’s a good idea?” He walks out of the bathroom unbuttoning his shirt and I hear him sigh from the closet.

  I don’t answer his rhetorical question. Yes, the videos were upsetting, but they were strangely comforting, too. Luke wouldn’t understand, so I don’t bother trying to explain.

  He looks tired when he reemerges into the bathroom. “I picked up food. Do you want me to bring you some?”

  “I’m not hungry.” I press my lips together. I don’t want to argue tonight.

  “Have you eaten today?” Luke says with a controlled voice and a pointed stare.

  “I had tea this morning and a banana for lunch.”

  He furrows his brow. “You need to eat, Jessica.”

  “I’ll come get some after I get out of the bath.” We both know there’s a good chance I won’t, but thankfully he doesn’t push this time. After two weeks of persuading me to have bites of food I didn’t want, he’s worn down.

  Luke goes downstairs and I finish my bath. He comes up a few minutes after I slip into bed and I pretend to be asleep. I don’t want to have another conversation with him where he hints that I need to move on. I wish it were as easy for me as it is for him.

  “Time to get up.” Luke’s voice cuts through my wake-up fog.

  I pull the comforter over my head. “Go away.”

  “Some fresh air will do you good.”

  “I don’t need fresh air.” I mumble into the blankets. “Besides, I’m not ready to run yet.” Luke and I have a history of running through our problems. It started in high school, when we would use the time to sort through our feelings and gain insight into our teenage woes. It’s not going to work for this. This is too heavy, and I definitely don’t want to dig deeper into my grief.

  “We’ll walk.” He sits on the bed, but doesn’t pull the covers back again.

  “Later,” I say from inside my cocoon.

  “It’s almost eleven, Jessica.” This time, he pulls the blankets back. “You told the doctor you were feeling fine physically. I think getting out of the house would do you some good.”

  “I’m exhausted, Luke. Besides, I have gotten out of the house. I work, remember?” I snatch the blanket back from him and roll away from him.

  “Jessica—”

  “I said no,” I raise my voice.

  “Fine, but you are not staying in bed all day.” There is more than a hint of frustration in his voice. I’m relieved when I feel him rise off the bed and leave the room.

  The relief is short lived, he returns just as I’m dozing off again. “We’re going out with Vivien and Ed tonight. We’re meeting them at six for dinner and then a movie. You can stay in bed until then but be ready by five-thirty.” He doesn’t wait for my response before leaving me alone again.

  I throw the blankets over my head and accept this is a battle Luke is not willing to lose.

  I’m reading a magazine in bed when Luke returns to the bedroom at little before four.

  “Are you taking a shower before we go?”

  “I suppose I should.” I still don’t want to go, but I know he already considers my day spent in bed our compromise. The thought crosses my mind that if I go tonight, he may leave me alone tomorrow.

  I shower and dry my hair before pulling on a pair of jeans and a blue sweater. I have zero interest in doing my makeup, so I only put some gloss on my dry lips.

  I walk downstairs at exactly five-thirty.

  “You look nice.” He tilts his head and smiles softly at me.

  “I don’t need pity compliments, Luke, all I did was shower and throw on some clothes.”

  “It’s not pity. You know I love you in blue. Let’s go.” He doesn’t wait for me to say something else nasty to him. I regret being so difficult, but I can’t seem to stop.

  On the way to the restaurant, we make small talk about work and the science project Amelia needs to complete next weekend. Luke offers to pick up the supplies she needs tomorrow. By the time we arrive, Vivien and Ed are already at a table with their first round of drinks. They stand up as we approach and we take turns hugging each other.

  “Good to see you, guys,” Ed says as we slide into the booth.

  “Good to see you, too,” I say.

  Ed and Luke dive into a conversation about last night’s basketball game and I begin looking at the menu.

  “What are you getting?” Vivien asks after a few minutes. I look up to see her looking at her own menu.

  “Tequila shots,” I joke.

  “I’m down,” she says, without looking up at me.

  “I was kidding, Viv.”

  “I’m not. You’ve had a shitty couple of weeks. No one’s judging if you need a distraction. Hell, I need a distraction.” She places her menu between her and Ed so he can’t see her face. “Ed’s mom is talking about buying the house across the street from us,” she mouths, and widens her eyes as big as they will go.

  I can’t help blurting out a laugh. “Tequila shots it is.”

  Vivien nods and smiles in an exaggerated fashion.

  We’re still waiting for our food as Vivien and I toss back our second round of shots. We’ve been laughing about a ridiculous reality show that we both watch, and it hits me that this is the first time I’ve laughed or felt any sense of relief since the miscarriage.

  “Slow down, woman.” Ed frowns at Vivien. I’ve known them long enough to know he’s not really irritated with her, he just likes to give her a hard time.

  “Get used to it, husband. If your mother moves in across the street there will be mucho tequila in my future.”

  “You like my mom.” Ed shakes his head.

  “I like her better when I have to drive an hour to see her. I like her better when I don’t have to worry about her coming over to criticize my cooking more than a couple times a year.”

  “She commented on your cooking one time, Viv.” Ed laughs and holds up one finger for emphasis.

  “Not true. She told me last time she was over that it’s probably a blessing in disguise that I can’t cook. That she doesn’t have to worry about her baby boy getting chunky from a bunch of home cooking.”

  Ed laughs loudly. “There is no way she called me her baby boy.”

  “Maybe not, but it was implied.” Vivien winks at me.

  “Didn’t you start a kitchen fire making toast one time?” Luke chimes in.

  “First of all, shame on you, Jessica, for spreading that false story. Second, I did not start a fire, the toaster malfunctioned and burst into flames. Could’ve happened to anyone.”

  Laughter continues through dinner. I catch Luke staring at me while I’m listening to Ed tell a story about a guy at his work who everyone suspects has joined a cult. It’s the first time he’s looked at me without worry or pity in weeks. I smile back at him causing him to lace his fingers through mine.

  We’re waiting for our waitress to return with receipts to sign, and the conversation has died down some.

  “What movie does everyone want to see?” Luke asks picking up his phone. “We should probably look at times before we head over.”

  “Didn’t that new horror movie come out this weekend?” Ed asks. “I heard it’s really good.”

  “Sorry, Ed, Jessica won’t do anything scary.” Luke shakes his head while continuing to scroll through his phone.

  “I know. Let’s go see the new Ryan Gosling movie.” Vivien is practically salivating as she
wags her eyebrows.

  “The one where he’s crying in the preview?” Ed scrunches up his face. “No way.”

  “Sorry, Viv, I’m going to side with Ed on this one. That movie looks depressing.” I scrunch my face.

  Vivien gives me a sympathetic nod. “Of course.”

  “Hey, guys,” Ed looks back and forth between Luke and me. “Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up, but it feels wrong to not say anything. I hope you know how horrible we feel about what happened.”

  “Tonight’s supposed to be a fun night, can we talk about something else?” Luke says, giving Ed a death stare.

  “It’s fine, Ed.” I interrupt, causing both men to look at me. “We probably need to talk about it more. It’s been a really hard couple of weeks.” Luke stiffens beside me.

  “I can’t even imagine.” Vivien frowns at me.

  “It’s been hard, but the doctor said it’s very common.” Luke says, before taking a drink of his beer. “I was reading that something like twenty-five percent of women will experience a miscarriage in their lives.”

  I’m not sure when Luke became so versed on miscarriage statistics. I remember him telling me once before that statistics are misleading, that they could be skewed to represent whatever position one was looking to endorse.

  “That many? That’s downright frightening,” Vivien says.

  “It is, but most go on to have healthy pregnancies. It wasn’t meant to be right now. We’ll try again later.” Luke states it like a decision has been made, which is news to me. We haven’t talked about trying again. I can only assume his comments are meant to reassure me that this doesn’t mean we will never have a child together, but his words don’t sit right with me.

  “Of course.” Vivien gives another sympathetic nod.

  I sit through a few more minutes of Luke making ridiculous statements related to miscarriage and coming out of this experience stronger. For someone who avoids the topic with me at home, he sure has a lot to say to our friends. The topic is thankfully changed when we get up to leave and have to decide on a movie.