Over a Year Earlier
Brian's View
I listened intently to the man sitting in front of me. I glanced around the room slightly. All these men in business suits did as I did, but they weren’t just listening, they were judging. They were judging me and my character. They were judging if I was worth the time, effort, and money to invest in what we had to offer.
Through the glass windows beyond the man speaking, I saw a woman walk quickly to the door. She opened it and lightly knocked.
“Sorry to interrupt Mr. Ellis,” she said tentatively. Mr. Ellis, the man that had been speaking, looked back at her and replied, “That’s okay Jane, what is it?”
“There’s a call on line 2 for Mr. Littrell,” she replied. I perked up a bit and everyone turned to look at me. I cleared my throat and said, “I’m sure it can wait.”
“No, sir, the woman on the line says it’s urgent,” she replied. I cleared my throat again and my hand went instinctively to my tie. I positioned it as I got up, feeling all eyes on me, “If you’ll just excuse me gentlemen. I’ll just be a moment.”
With that, I left the office and followed the woman. She led me down the isles of desks, past people shuffling papers and speaking on phones, to a large round desk near the elevators. She picked up the phone, pressed a couple of buttons, and then handed me the phone. I took it from her, not really knowing who was calling me and why. Angela knew that I would call her, she knew not to call me. Especially here.
I put the receiver up to my ear and said, “Brian speaking.”
“Brian,” the woman sounded frantic and tired. I was confused. The voice was the one I least expected. It was a voice I had grown up with, “Mom? Wha-“
“Brian, thank God you’re there,” her voice was shaky.
“Mom, this isn’t a good time. I’m in a meeting right now.”
“Brian, you need to come home honey,” she said. My confusion only seemed to deepen and I started to become a little nervous. This had to be serious if my mom was calling. How did she even get this number? Angela had it. If something had happened, why wasn’t Angela calling? Why is my mother?
“Mom, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Angela, sweetheart,” she was crying now. My heart began to race and my mouth went dry. All my senses jumped into gear and fear washed over me, “What happened? Where is she?”
She was barely audible.
“Mom! Tell me what happened!”
A few people turned their heads to look at me curious, but I dismissed them.
“It’s the baby, Brian,” I could feel the blood from my face drain. “She fell down the stairs.”
I was speechless. What was she trying to tell me?
“Brian,” she was crying. “She lost the baby.”
It felt like a ten ton boulder had collided with my stomach. Dizziness overwhelmed me. I blindly reached out to hold onto the end of the desk to keep me balanced. I could barely breathe.
“Angela, is Angela okay?” I asked quietly, struggling to stay calm. I heard her sniffles, “She’s going to be okay.”
A small ping of relief washed over me, “I’m coming home.”
I hadn’t even gone back to the conference room. I told the woman at the desk to tell them that we would have to reschedule. I had to go home for a family emergency.
Everything was a blur. My entire being was focused on just one thing. Get home. Get to Angela.
The taxi to the hotel, the packing, the check out, the taxi to the airport, the plane ride all was fuzzy. I barely remembered any of it. How could I? My mind was 300 miles away with my family. I hadn’t cried. I didn’t have time for it. I was trying to process what had happened. I knew I was in denial. I couldn’t believe that this could happen. Not to me, not to Angie. She wanted so much to have kids and these past 6 months had been perfect bliss.
I had called my mom from the airport to see where they were. Angela had insisted on going home from the hospital. A bit of anger overcame me when I heard that bit of news. She should still be there, but Angela had always been a headstrong woman. When she set her mind to something, or if she wanted something, she got it. No one could get in her way. She couldn’t stand hospitals, so it really came to no surprise when she refused to stay longer then she had to.
The taxi ride to the house felt like an eternity. I looked at my watch every 5 seconds. I fidgeted nervously, unable to control myself. I yelled to the driver to go faster, and though he probably did, it didn’t feel like it. When he started to turn into the driveway, I couldn’t take it anymore. I yelled at him to stop, I threw several bills at him, got out of the taxi, and ran. There were more cars than expected out front, but I didn’t stop. I was on a mission.
I burst through the doors, breathing heavily. I looked around me frantically, finding Melissa emerging from the kitchen entrance looking shocked.
“Where is she?” I yelled at her. She pointed towards the stairs, “Upstairs.”
I didn’t even let her finish. I was already sprinting up the stairs, skipping steps every chance I could. I had only barely noticed the pile of blood soaked towels in a pile at the bottom of the stairs.
After I got to the top, I rushed down the hallway to our bedroom. I could see Ben leaning against the wall outside the room, his eyes closed. He quickly opened them when he heard me coming and moved out of the way.
The scene before me was nothing I had expected, but then again, I wasn’t expecting anything. If I had expected something, it wouldn’t have been this.
Angela was sitting on the bed, knees curled up to her chest. She hugged her legs to her tightly. Her head rested on her knees. Her hair was a mess and her face was white as a ghost. Her face was puffy from crying and her cheeks were riddled with tears. My mother sat at the edge of the bed, looking at her sadly. Kleenex was strewn about over the bed. I was paralyzed for a moment, unable to move. I had never seen Angela look the way she did now and it was debilitating.
Both of them looked up when I entered the room. Angela’s head rose a bit and she immediately broke down, “Brian.”
I went to her, rushing around the bed, sitting down, and taking her up to my arms. She clung to me eagerly, crying into my shoulder.
“I’m here baby,” I said softly, rubbing her back. “I’m here.”
My heart started to ache terribly. I could feel that her midsection was considerably smaller as I pulled her to me tightly. It hit me then. Everything just dumped onto me. My child was no longer here. My child was dead.
I closed my eyes, feeling them start to burn. I couldn’t hold them in. Tears fell freely from my eyes, my chest tightened, and I squeezed Angela to me tighter.
“Oh God,” I cried. I had never felt a pain that immense in all of my life. I felt like it would never stop.
She tried speaking through her tears, “I couldn’t stop myself. I slipped and I couldn’t stop. I tried grabbing onto something, but there wasn’t anything to grab onto…”
“Shh, shh,” I tried stopping her, but she wouldn’t.
“I’m sorry Brian, I’m so sorry!” she was crying uncontrollably, her chest heaving. I grabbed her and pulled her to me again, rocking her, “It’s not your fault, Angela. It’s not your fault.”
We sat there not saying a word, crying, and clinging to one another. I could hear my mother get up and walk quietly to the door, shutting it behind her in the same manner. I buried my head into Angela’s shoulder and held her tightly. It felt like if I let her go, I would lose her too, and then I would have no family at all.
How could this happen?
That night and the next day, we stayed in bed together. We didn’t get much sleep, but only laid there in silence, crying off and on from time to time. I held her to me close as much as possible. There were times when she would drift to sleep and I’d stay up and watch her, lightly stroking her cheek. It was then that I realized that I didn’t know how to handle this sort of situation. It wasn’t something I had expected to happen, it wasn’t something I had ever experienced, it wasn’t something that I was accustomed to knowing how to handle. Me being the husband, me being a man, I have to step up to the plate. But how? How can I be the strong one and pull us together to get through this when all I want to do is block myself out from the world forever? How am I supposed to do that when I have this much pain inside of me?
Two days later, Angela and I were lying in bed, facing each other, and just looking at one another silently. Angela had fresh tears on her face. She spoke softly, “Brian.”
“Yeah baby?” I asked, moving hair out of her face and behind her ear.
“What do we do?”
I searched her face, trying to figure out what I needed to say, and how I was going to say it.
“How do we get past this?” It was the first intelligible and rational question and statement she had said in the past couple of days, and it brought a new sadness to me. It was as if she were no longer in denial of what happened.
“Well,” I began. It sounded more of a croak, my throat dry and tight. I cleared my throat and continued, “We stay together and in time we’ll heal.”
She could only look at me and I continued, “Things will get better.”
She retained her composure for a little while yet and then her face scrunched up and tears started pouring once again. Her body shook and her hands raised to cover her face. My own face softened and I moved towards her, bringing her to me closely.
“How can they get better? I don’t see how this pain can ever go away. It’s so deep and it hurts so much,” she looked up at me. “I’m a terrible mother.”
I shook my head quickly, “Angela, no. There was absolutely nothing you could have done.”
She sighed exasperated, looking away from me. I gently grabbed her face and turned it back to look at mine, “Hey, look at me.” She reluctantly looked back into my eyes, “There was nothing you could do. It was an accident, okay? An accident. You did nothing wrong.”
She pursed her lips together and lightly nodded, afterwards leaning her head to rest on my chest.
