after awhile. "I guess we'll never know."
I turn on my side again, so we're facing each other, but he's still not looking at me. "Are you very upset?"
His eyes flick to mine, but then he focuses them back on the window, and grins in a defeated sort of way. "This isn't even the first time for me. My first kid would've been like three now."
My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel like someone emptied a bucket of icy cold water all over me. I shouldn't have dumped this on him. I should've stayed quiet and went my own separate way forever.
"I'm sorry," I manage. I'm lying here because I couldn't face this on my own. But it was all my fault, and I should have told him before, or stayed away and faced it on my own.
"I feel like I should at least pay for it," he says, and touches my belly, right where Sarah might still be growing, if I hadn't killed her.
"I already did," I mutter, taking his hand before he can pull it away.
The weight of all I did wrong presses against me like a huge slab of cement, taking my air, crushing me to death. His hand under mine, resting against my stomach is the only thing that still gives me hope I'll survive this. Only, he's already pulling it away, and I can't have that, I won't let him.
I scoot over as close as I can get and wrap my arm around him, burying my head in his chest. He smells of fabric softener and fresh air.
"Can you ever forgive me? Because you have to, I can't live if you don't." I'm sobbing more than saying the words into his chest, and I know it's a lot to ask, too much probably, but I feel like this is the last chance I have to make this plea. Like I'm being led to the gallows, and I only have very little time left to make amends, to atone. "But I didn't know I was pregnant, and I drank a lot, and I took so many sleeping pills, and I exercised, hard, so maybe Sarah would never be born in the first place, even if I hadn't killed her."
He's stiff as a board in my arms, neither pulling away nor touching me. What I'm saying is the truth even if it all sounds like so many fickle, empty excuses. Because we'll never know, not after what I did.
"And…and we can have more babies, if you want," I finish, not sure where the words are coming from, but I mean them.
He laughs, the harsh sound knocking into my ears.
"You're actually serious?" he asks.
"Yes."
He grabs my shoulder and pushes me away, then stares into my eyes. It's like looking into an impossibly deep, pitch black lake, nothing disturbing its surface. "Are you for real?"
His fingers are digging into the soft flesh of my back, and tension from his coiled muscles is flowing into me, turning me to stone.
"You still think I'm playing games with you?" I ask, stuck between sadness and anger now. "After all this?"
He's staring at me like he's going to lash out at any moment, drag me off the bed, and kick me out of the apartment. Or maybe that's only my fear talking, preparing me for the inevitable end.
"Because that's not what I'm doing, and I don't think I ever was," I say, my voice firm and strong, like someone else is talking. Because the mess I am couldn't possibly sound so collected. "Maybe this sounds like crazy talk, but I've never met anyone I want to be around more than you. And that's the truth. I could've gone about it better, and then we'd probably not be lying here like this, and none of this would ever have happened. But I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, so maybe you should decide already how you feel about me."
His grip on my shoulder loosens, his eyes softer now and his lips parted, like maybe he wants to kiss me. "Me decide? I'm still waiting for you to do that?"
I ball my hand into a fist, so I won't touch his lips, because this is not the right time for that. Even though it might be my last chance.
"I've already decided," I say. "Like I said, I don't want you seeing any other girls but me."
I smile a little as I say it, hoping he'll do the same and kiss
I turn on my side again, so we're facing each other, but he's still not looking at me. "Are you very upset?"
His eyes flick to mine, but then he focuses them back on the window, and grins in a defeated sort of way. "This isn't even the first time for me. My first kid would've been like three now."
My breath hitches in my throat, and I feel like someone emptied a bucket of icy cold water all over me. I shouldn't have dumped this on him. I should've stayed quiet and went my own separate way forever.
"I'm sorry," I manage. I'm lying here because I couldn't face this on my own. But it was all my fault, and I should have told him before, or stayed away and faced it on my own.
"I feel like I should at least pay for it," he says, and touches my belly, right where Sarah might still be growing, if I hadn't killed her.
"I already did," I mutter, taking his hand before he can pull it away.
The weight of all I did wrong presses against me like a huge slab of cement, taking my air, crushing me to death. His hand under mine, resting against my stomach is the only thing that still gives me hope I'll survive this. Only, he's already pulling it away, and I can't have that, I won't let him.
I scoot over as close as I can get and wrap my arm around him, burying my head in his chest. He smells of fabric softener and fresh air.
"Can you ever forgive me? Because you have to, I can't live if you don't." I'm sobbing more than saying the words into his chest, and I know it's a lot to ask, too much probably, but I feel like this is the last chance I have to make this plea. Like I'm being led to the gallows, and I only have very little time left to make amends, to atone. "But I didn't know I was pregnant, and I drank a lot, and I took so many sleeping pills, and I exercised, hard, so maybe Sarah would never be born in the first place, even if I hadn't killed her."
He's stiff as a board in my arms, neither pulling away nor touching me. What I'm saying is the truth even if it all sounds like so many fickle, empty excuses. Because we'll never know, not after what I did.
"And…and we can have more babies, if you want," I finish, not sure where the words are coming from, but I mean them.
He laughs, the harsh sound knocking into my ears.
"You're actually serious?" he asks.
"Yes."
He grabs my shoulder and pushes me away, then stares into my eyes. It's like looking into an impossibly deep, pitch black lake, nothing disturbing its surface. "Are you for real?"
His fingers are digging into the soft flesh of my back, and tension from his coiled muscles is flowing into me, turning me to stone.
"You still think I'm playing games with you?" I ask, stuck between sadness and anger now. "After all this?"
He's staring at me like he's going to lash out at any moment, drag me off the bed, and kick me out of the apartment. Or maybe that's only my fear talking, preparing me for the inevitable end.
"Because that's not what I'm doing, and I don't think I ever was," I say, my voice firm and strong, like someone else is talking. Because the mess I am couldn't possibly sound so collected. "Maybe this sounds like crazy talk, but I've never met anyone I want to be around more than you. And that's the truth. I could've gone about it better, and then we'd probably not be lying here like this, and none of this would ever have happened. But I'm going to have to live with that for the rest of my life, so maybe you should decide already how you feel about me."
His grip on my shoulder loosens, his eyes softer now and his lips parted, like maybe he wants to kiss me. "Me decide? I'm still waiting for you to do that?"
I ball my hand into a fist, so I won't touch his lips, because this is not the right time for that. Even though it might be my last chance.
"I've already decided," I say. "Like I said, I don't want you seeing any other girls but me."
I smile a little as I say it, hoping he'll do the same and kiss
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