AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why? Not that there has to be a why per se but…”
“Oh, there were a lot of things going on.” He shrugged his shoulders, still not making eye contact. I guessed because he again struggled to talk about his life despite his willingness to be forthcoming. That memo about him not liking to talk about things had been loud and clear.
“Home stuff?” I guessed.
“Yeah, to say the least.” He let out a long drawn out sigh, tapped his fingers against the counter, and then clasped them over his abdomen. “You want to know what it was that really set me down a dark path?”
“Yeah. I do.”
“My mom got pregnant when I was in ninth grade. Mom and Dad were going to have another baby,” he said. “I found out at the very beginning of the school year.”
“They did?” My voice raised an octave. “But, wait. I don’t remember ever meeting a younger sibling. You have two older brothers, right?”
“That would be correct,” he said. Now, he turned his head to look at me, and a swoosh of discomfort made my insides tighten. Somehow as he stared at me, his eyes glossy, I knew exactly what had happened.
“They lost the baby,” I whispered. The weight of the words fell heavy across my chest. “I’m so sorry, Jamie.”
I laid a hand over his, squeezing gently.
“I thought it was my fault.”
“How the hell could it have been your fault?” I asked.
“First, when they told us they were having another kid… I felt… ugh… I felt…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought they were trying to replace me. The youngest. I thought… god, I don’t want another sibling. I thought… god, I hope this doesn’t happen… I thought… god… I hope the baby doesn’t make it.” His voice grew quieter. “And, then, wouldn’t you know? I got my goddamn wish. They lost the goddamn baby.”
“Jesus. Jamie… you fucking blamed yourself?”
“I blamed myself. I thought I killed a baby… I thought I had the power to wish something to happen. Then, when it did happen, I couldn’t forgive myself. But… that wasn’t the only thing bothering me that year.”
“What else?” I asked.
“Losing that baby changed everything. It wasn’t just the guilt I felt. It fucking nearly ripped my parents apart. Mom barely left the house… Dad started drinking more. Everything went to hell.”
“And you blamed it all on yourself.”
“I blamed itallon me.”
“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I guess for the same reason you never told me about your dad.”
Hearing Jamie mentioning my dad made my chest tighten. That was the first time he’d referred to Dad. Ever.
“Yeah. I guess so,” I said. “I… guess you know… about him. Right?”
“Yeah, Jems. I know all about it.” He leaned closer to me and wrapped an arm over my shoulder. “I wish you would have told me. The same way you wish I would have told you. But we both were so closed off, we couldn’t even open up to each other.”
“Would it have made a difference?” I asked.
“If I had known you were trying to contact him beyond the grave, I never would have argued with you over life and death like that.”
“And… if I had known what you were going through… thinking you had killed a baby…” I paused, trying to imagine what I might have done differently. “I don’t know. Maybe I would have just hugged you more tightly.”
The water with the pasta simmered below us, and I reached for a stirrer to mix in some of the noodles which had started to soften. Jamie kept a protective arm wrapped around me.
“Dad shot himself the summer before we became friends,” I said as I stirred the noodles. “I didn’t think it was my fault. I just never understood how he could leave me.” My skin prickled at the topic of discussion. While I’d spent many years discussing my abandonment issues in therapy, I’d never been ready to touch on my dad. Fortunately for me, my therapists all seemed to understand that. And Dad had been a topic we’d graciously glossed over, focusing instead on the abandonment itself. Especially these days. If anything, Dr. Wiig preferred to touch on Dave. Not the past issues I had with my dad. That was pretty commonplace: my therapists preferring to move forward, not discussing the distant past.
“Mom became so protective over me that she also pushed me away emotionally,” I said, repeating words I’d said to different therapists so many times. True words, yes. But very processed words that had been practiced and spoken aloud many times. “Then, it just kept happening. People kept leaving me,” I added. “Including my own damn husband.”
