Breathing For The First Time (19 page)

“God, Ty, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The tension in his face and shoulders make him look like he’s a rubber band, wound too tight. “Why weren’t you? I mean, what was so important that you couldn’t call me back for three days?”

The anger in his voice makes me jump. He’s never gotten mad at me, and certainly never looked at me like I disappointed him. I reach to him, knowing a touch will calm him down, but he flinches at my hand then turns away from me entirely, going into the living room.

“Ty, I said I’m sorry. I was just spending time with Paige and Tiffany. Paige had a lot of wedding stuff she wanted to figure out. We spent almost two full days shopping for dresses and when we got back to her place we crashed. It was exhausting.”

I know that was lame, and not a good excuse, but it’s the truth. But when I think about what his weekend was like, I know it doesn’t even compare. Shopping and hanging out with my friends is nowhere near as exhausting as flying 1000 miles and losing your child.

“I’m sure it really wore you out,” he tells me, his voice dripping with sarcasm. This Tyler scares me; it’s a side of him I don’t know.

“Why don’t we just sit down, have some pizza. You need to chill out a little bit. You’re scaring me.”

His expression falters when I say the last words, quieter, almost to myself. His eyes soften as he realizes how he’s acting. His feet stay planted on the floor, between my coffee table and TV, cemented in place.

I take a step toward him, moving from my position in the doorway of the kitchen. Even though we’ve never fought, I know Tyler, I know how he thinks. I step in front of him, putting myself in his line of sight, knowing he won’t be able to ignore me.

His eyes meet mine. Even though the anger has begun to fade from his face, it still remains in his eyes. What bothers me more is the disappointment.

This is the first time our relationship has been tested. Mom said we had to fight in order to find out how we would handle things together, but this is huge. This is all my fault. How can I tell him that I thought he was just checking in, and that I didn’t care to talk to him? Isn’t that just as bad?

Why did I do it? Was I trying to punish him? Or was it just not being used to having someone else care what I did?

“I needed you this weekend, Brooke. Every second I spent in that hospital, knowing my child had died, was a second I wished you were with me, that I could hear your voice. And you weren’t available.” He never meets my eyes as he speaks, just focuses on the wall behind me, looking over my head instead of at me.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, knowing it’ll never be enough.

His crystal blue eyes finally return to mine. They have finally lost the anger from a few moments ago, and I see raw emotion, pain and sadness I’ve never dreamed of before. “I know your friends are important to you, really, I get it. They should be. I’m glad you had a good weekend, and I guess I can admit I wouldn’t be so upset if I was just calling to say hi. The whole truth, though, is that I thought I was important to you. I thought I was one of the people in your inner circle. And it hurts to be dismissed.”

He focuses on the spot above my head again. I reach up to him, putting one hand on each cheek, and pull his face toward me. He closes his eyes for a moment. When they open I see tears glistening in the corners. The only other time he cried in front of me was when he found out Rachel was pregnant. I have to get him to understand how sorry I am, how much I screwed up.

“Ty, you are important to me. More than you know. And I will never dismiss you. I don’t know why I didn’t call you back. I should have, no matter what. But I can’t change it now. All I can say is that I’m sorry.”

He absorbs my words and nods against my hands. The tension in my shoulders finally eases, and I drop my hands to my side. He stays put, his eyes turning toward the door. Shit, he’s leaving.

“Brooke, I hear what you’re saying, but I just can’t right now. It’s been a rough weekend, and I need to be alone. I’ll call you.”

The rest of his body follows his eyes and he’s out the door before I can react. I want to run after him, stop him, anything, but I can’t. I have to respect what he wants. And hope he decides he still wants me.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Tyler

It’s been a week and I still haven’t called Brooke. I don’t know what to say. I’ve thrown myself into nothingness for a week. I get up, go for a run, shower, change into clean clothes, get something to eat, and go back to sleep.

I still can’t believe she didn’t come after me. She just let me walk out her door, without a word. Maybe I was right, maybe she doesn’t think I’m that important. Whatever is going on, she isn’t as into this as I am. I’m not getting into another one of those relationships, especially when I’ll be the one on the losing end this time.

The shitty thing is how much I miss her. I’m pissed that she never bothered to call me, of course, but I still miss her. It’s hard to accept that maybe she won’t be as big a part of my life as I hoped she would be. That’s what keeps me up at night.

Then there are some nights I find myself thinking about the child I was supposed to have with Rachel. I still feel a tremendous amount of guilt, but I keep replaying the doctors’ promises that no one is to blame, and Rachel’s words. She wasn’t happy either, and a child would have trapped us both. It’s hard to accept that I lost a part of me.

I decide to call my dad. I never talked to him about what Rachel told me, about he and Mom losing a baby. I know the situation was different since they were in love, but loss is still loss. Plus, he’s great at giving advice. Maybe he can help with how to get over Brooke, too. God knows, I don’t have a clue what to do.

“Hello?” booms his voice. I already feel a little better.

“Hi, Dad. Gotta sec?”

“Sure, boy, anything for you. What’s going on?” The volume on the TV in the background drifts down. I glance at the clock. Dad has his shows he likes to watch, but I don’t think I’m interrupting anything.

“I’m just still trying to figure out how to move on from all this.”

“From the baby, or from Rachel?” Dad asks. He knows Rachel and I have been over, but he saw us together and I admitted that a part of me will always love her.

“Not Rachel, the baby really, and, well, Brooke too.” I admit, forcing the words through my teeth. I know that’s what I really want to talk about, what I really need advice about.

Dad blows a breath out before saying, “What did you do now?”

My body tenses, “Why is it always my fault? I didn’t do anything. She’s the one who ignored me when I needed her and never called me back.”

“First of all, if you’re getting defensive, you feel like you’re either overreacting to something or that you’re to blame. Second, before she left for the weekend, did y’all agree to talk or did you tell her to have fun and you would see her when she got back?” Dad never gets agitated, one of the best things about him normally, but tough to accept when I’m frustrated.

I blow out the breath I was holding, “Does it matter? I mean, she wasn’t there when I needed her, what difference does it make how I left it with her.”

“Did you call for my advice or to yell at me?” Dad asks, his voice as calm as always. I know he’s annoyed, but his voice doesn’t show it.

I take a deep breath and try to calm down. I called him. I wanted his advice and help, and I have no reason to attack him.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” I let my anger slip away, but it stays right below the surface. The only problem is, I know I’m not mad at Dad, or even Brooke. I’m mad at myself.

Before I can continue Dad does, “It does matter, Ty. Everything matters when you’re in a relationship. If you’re mad at Brooke, that’s fine, but how is it making her feel? Is it fair to her that you aren’t speaking because she did exactly what you asked her to do? No. And with that, if you turn the situation around, how would you feel if you were her? Would you accept that it’s all your fault if you came home for a few days and she needed you, but you didn’t call her?”

I sigh, trying to put myself in her shoes. I told her to enjoy her friends. They haven’t been together in the four months we’ve been dating. I knew she would be coming right home to me, and wanted her to enjoy her trip. If I’m completely honest, it’s why I didn’t say anything on the messages I left her about what was going on. I didn’t want to ruin her weekend, even though I wanted to talk to her.

Yeah, I’ve been a jerk.

“Okay, so now that’s we’ve figured out that I’m an ass and don’t deserve her, how do I get over losing the baby? Rachel told me about your visit, and you and Mom losing a baby. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

I can hear him shrug his shoulders, “It never came up. When y’all were little, I never wanted to mention it because your mom was really bothered by it, we both were. It triggered a lot of her episodes. As y’all got older, well, it never made sense to talk about it. I’m not completely sure why I told Rachel, but I knew she needed to hear about someone else who went through the same thing, and came out the other side better for it. It seemed to comfort her.”

I smile, remembering Rachel telling me how much better she felt after talking to Dad. I tell him, “Yeah, she did feel better. She said your talk helped her. I really think she’s taken this whole thing better than me. In the hospital, she was so okay with it. I’m sure there were, and always will be, moments when things aren’t okay. But I was blown away at how... at ease she was.”

Dad exhales in a puff, like a laugh without sound, “We all handle things differently, son. When your mom and I lost the baby, she didn’t handle it well. She hit postpartum depression right away, at least that’s what the doctors said it was. She wanted to try again immediately, but everyone said to wait. She got pregnant with Ruth about two months after she lost the other baby. It boosted her spirits, but in many ways, it never gave us the right time to grieve.

“Mom had Ann then you right after Ruth so she just kept pushing forward. Once the doctors told her she needed to give her body a break, she started to really feel the loss of the first child. It hit her hard.”

I absorb what my dad is telling me, framing it around the life I had growing up. If Mom never let herself get upset about losing the baby, she carried that with her every day. Grief is a powerful emotion, and ignoring it can do horrible things to you.

I always felt like Mom was upset with me and that many times I was the cause of her depression. Now, it seems like it was just the break after me, which ended up permanent, that forced her to feel the pain of loss that she’d been running from for years.

I don’t want to make the same mistake. I don’t want to end up hiding from the pain of this, but I don’t want it to consume me. It sounds like my mom did both. First she hid from the pain, and then it consumed her.

I’ve always loved my mom, and respected her. But this conversation gives me a new appreciation for what she went through. This shows me that she buried something so deep that we never knew it existed, and it formed her into the person I knew growing up, the one I know today.

My future kids will know me based on the way I handle this loss. Not being crippled with the hormonal changes and swings from this will spare me some of it, but I still lost a child. I loved that child. I have to grieve for that loss.

“How did you do it, Dad? How did you grieve and not let it consume you?”

Dad pauses. I can’t see him, but I know he’s looking at the pictures fighting for space on the mantel in the living room. He gets up from his recliner and I know he’s walking to one picture in particular, picking it up, and remembering that day. I wish I knew which picture he’s looking at.

“I let myself remember. I didn’t try to run from it. I’m not a big crier, but I did let myself feel the pain of it. We all have to let go in our own way. I know what helped me the most was that I prayed, a lot. I thanked God for not taking your mother. I thanked God for blessing us with you and your sisters. I thanked God for giving me the strength to help your mother. And I reminded myself that God is the one in charge, and that He knows best. For some reason, we weren’t meant to have that child, and I’m not in a position to question why.”

This is why I call my dad. He’s right. I don’t go to church much anymore, but once upon a time, I did. And I believe, and I know God is in charge of all this.

I can’t make guesses about why God took the baby from Rachel and I, but I have to accept that He knows it was right. It’s hard to accept that any child wasn’t meant to be, especially my own child. But it will eat me alive to fight it.

I’m not naïve enough to think I can say God is in charge and I’ll be over the pain. But that is a big step I need to take. The grieving part, the hard part, I know I won’t be able to go through alone. And there’s only one person I want by my side.

I thank my dad for his advice, and for being there for me in Louisiana. I couldn’t have made it through the last few weeks, and my summer break in Texas, without my dad.

I hang up, and head for my truck, knowing exactly where I’m going to end up.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Brooke

This sucks. There’s really no other way to put it. Tyler is ignoring my calls, and I don’t blame him. I should have called him back, even if it was just a quick hi. I could have taken the time to talk to him. I know now how important it was to do that, and I feel like a jerk. The bad thing is I’m starting to feel like this isn’t a fight, but instead is a break-up.

Paige and Tiffany both said I should have called him and that it wouldn’t have bothered them. They feel bad that Tyler and Rachel lost the baby and said Tyler needs time. I’m trying to give it to him.

I’m really trying.

But it’s hard. I miss him. I’ve called him every day this week. I wanted to go after him when he left last Sunday, but I knew he needed to calm down. Now I think I should have gone after him, especially if I knew he wouldn’t talk to me for a week.

My commitment to giving him space is starting today. I didn’t call him today. I pulled up his number a hundred times, but I wouldn’t let myself call him. But am I giving him time, or accepting that we’re through?