I had a lot of help- motivation and creation wise, with this fic. Thanks to Kitty, my beta extra ordinaire, for making sure this doesn’t suck too bad. Also, to Kelly, for looking over and approving everything I sent her way. Oh, almost forgot, thanks to Catherine and Tara for the use of their names!
I’m a little sketchy as to how exactly the war treaty with Milosivec in Kosovo went on, and I’m not sure *exactly* what it said, so if that part is a little inaccurate, you have my apologies.
If you have a minute, check out my site. Its got (most of) my fanfic and even some crappy graphics! Now, what could be more exciting?
www.geocities.com/dougandcarol_tlf/index.html
I’ve yapped enough. You can go ahead and read now. =)
___________________________________________________________________
One Candle Burns - Part 5
‘Barely Breathing’
~*~*~*~
"Sometimes no matter how much faith we have,
We lose people.
But you never forget them.
And sometimes it's those memories
That give us faith to go on."
- Early Edition on CBS
~*~*~*~
June 30th, 1999,
___________________________________________________________________
She didn’t bother to close the curtains. The night was already dark. No street lamps, no moonlight, just thick, heavy blackness seeping into the bedroom. The only light was that of the candle, on her dresser again, burning, the flame small and timid, flickering in the lonely darkness.
The room held a cold, brooding dampness that was so dense she was almost choking on it. The rain was pounding on the roof, flooding the house with loud, drumming noise. There was no lightning, no thunder, only the tempestuous percussion of the early summer shower.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Carol pulled her shirt over her head, shivering against the sudden chill. She looked longingly at the drawer where the half-empty bottle of sleeping pills dwelled. Her hand crept down to rest on her slightly swollen stomach, and she sighed.
She was exhausted, yet, she knew there would be no rest for her weary body. There never was. Her insomnia was a burden of the haunting images her memories and tortured imagination together exposed.
Slowly, she slipped under the cool, crisp sheets, pulling the duvet up to her chin. As soon as her head hit the pillow, the familiar vision crept into her mind’s eye;
((He was burning. His body was on fire, smoke billowing around him in thick, smothering clouds. He was shouting for her, over and over, calling her name in harried, desperate cries. She could save him, he said. She could save him.))
Immediately her throat contracted and all the air was sucked from her lungs. Gasping, she sat up. She coughed and heaved for air until she was sucking in short puffs, panicking, hyperventilating, her mind spinning with the lack of oxygen.
She was suffocating.
Carol bolted from the bed, ran through the kitchen, and flung herself through the backdoor and out into the pounding rain.
She landed in the grass on her knees, gasping, instantly drenched. The rain poured down on her, stinging her skin, soaking her hair.
Her breathing eventually slowed, and she gulped in the air- moist and wet with dampness. The rain was cold- freezing cold, and she was shivering violently.
Swallowing hard, she tilted her face into the rain, allowing the icy droplets to mix with her own salty tears and run down her cheeks in rivers.
She was tired. Deathly tired. But for the past 4 months, sleep had been a distant luxury.
She was suffocating in her exhaustion. She was drowning in the pain that never seemed to yield.
___________________________________________________________________
When Carol finally succumbed to the nightmares that haunted her so stubbornly, she tripped into a restless, unfitful sleep on the sofa by the fireplace. Morning came, as it always did, in a slow tumble of ticking clocks and half-conscious dreams.
And, as usual, she was awakened by the violent flip of her stomach. She moaned softly and pulled herslef up. Her head was spinning, her pulse was pounding in her temples and her throat was swollen and raw.
She managed to stumble into the bathroom before the sweeping nausea burned its way through her body and she was thrown to her knees, shaking and retching.
When her head stopped whirling and her stomach stopped reeling, she took a gulping breath and, clutching the vanity counter, hauled herself into a standing position.
“Great.” she croaked, smirking sarcastically. “Just great.”
She let her hand travel down to her churning stomach. She was big for 4 months- already confined to wearing only sweats or scrubs or gross maternity jeans with elastic waistbands. “You’re gonna be a troublemaker, aren’t you baby? Just like your Daddy, huh?”
A smile appeared fleetingly on her parched lips and she glanced at her reflection in the mirror.
Her hair was still damp and dirty from the rain the night before, and there were green smudges on her knees where the wet grass had left it’s stain. Her skin was white as a sheet, except for two rosy splotches across her cheeks that told of the tingly heat of fever beginning to burn beneath her skin.
She stuck out her tongue and tried to look at the back of her throat.
“Idiot...” she chastised herself. She hadn’t changed clothes after she’d stumbled out of the rain. Exhausted and frustrated, she’s merely collapsed onto the sofa and shivered herself to sleep. “You’ll pay for it now. Stupid, stupid, stupid...”
Fumbling two aspirin into her hand, she coughed lightly, and made her way into the small kitchen with heavy, dragging feet.
All she needed was to be sick. It was bad enough she couldn’t sleep. It was bad enough she was wracked with terrible morning sickness. It was bad enough she could barely breath whenever she thought of him.
Now she had to catch some nasty-fucked up-cold.
She poured a glass of water and downed both pills in one gulp. They stung her tender throat on the way down, and she flinched.
Her shift started in an hour. Too tired to get ready right away, she sat down in a chair and draped herself over the kitchen table. She sighed as lump of frustrated, anguished emotion began to form in her throat.
God, she was so lost.
She new it, even if she would never admit it aloud. She’d felt this way before. It had been the same then- the same lonely, apathetic emptiness that mulled around in her brain and taunted her soul- …but different. This wasn’t from a self deprecating black hole she’d fallen into. It was from something much more painful. Something much more irreversible.
Something that wouldn’t go away.
She wanted it to go away.
The aching for the tiny pills in her dresser drawer burned profusely inside of her, at times. But she ignored it. They’d worked too hard for this baby to sacrifice it, or it’s health for a few hours of relief. She couldn’t hurt her child to alleviate her own pain.
She was trapped in her own depression. Any means she had of escaping were out of reach to her. She couldn’t drink. She couldn’t self-medicate.
Carol held her arms out in front of her face. Her palms were covered in little red scars where her fingernail had ripped the flesh in her attempts to deflect the thunderous pain. The slits continued up her wrists, little pink notches and scratches, hidden under her long-sleeved shirts.
“God, help me...”
The phrase tumbled softly from her lips before she had time to think about it. When the reality of her words hit her, she lifted herself off the table. Slowly, willing her aching head not to spin, she stood up.
Walking into her room, she stepped in front of the candle. It was still tall, still thick, still enticingly beautiful, still painted in confident red and white strokes. It still whispered his name in it’s furling tendrils of smoke. It still burned with the same intensity as his soothing brown eyes. It still called out to her. It still taunted her with its hope.
When she’d dream at night, it was always about the same thing. They would be lying there, in her bed, on that last night. She’s take his face in her hands and plead with him desperately, asking him to be safe. Needing his promise. He’d kiss away her tears and reassure her tenderly.
“I promise, Carol,” he’d whisper. “I promise.”
But the promise had been hollow. She should have known. Everything he’d ever promised her had been a lie.
The candle itself was a lie. It had been a symbol of her hope. It had been the sign that God had not forgotten them. It had been the light in the long, dark tunnel. But the tunnel was still so black. She couldn’t see. She couldn’t find her way.
The light was dimming.
Suddenly, angrily, she reached out and hurled the candle to the floor. It landed with a thud, a corner of wax flying off, its flame snuffing out, little grey furls of smoke rising into the air.
Doug had forsaken her. God had forsaken her. She was tired of all the bullshit.
She was tired.
___________________________________________________________________
“Morning Carol,” Chunni greeted cheerfully as they passed in the ambulance bay. Carol grumbled a reply, keeping her eyes glued to the concrete, letting her hair fall into her face.
“Hey Hathaway, what’s goin’ on?” Malik shouted as he aimed a basketball at the net.
She looked up fleetingly to smile at him, and ducked her head down again.
Everyone had been particularly nice to her since Doug died. She always got the good shifts. No one made her handle the looney patients, and Haleh had even taken over some of the charge duties.
She didn’t really mind. She wasn’t up to any of it anyway. Not to say that she didn’t like working. County was her haven, sometimes. It was an escape, where she could immerse herself in other people’s pain. She could smile and laugh and joke, showing her co-workers that she was fine. That she wasn’t really all that tired. That she wasn’t falling apart.
That she wasn’t dying.
Other times, going to work was almost impossible. She’d be frustrated by the smallest things. The tiniest details would send her whirling into a dizzy fit. She couldn’t go anywhere near the pedes unit on those days. She’d go home and curl up in a corner and weep until she couldn’t breathe. Her melancholy was heavy, then, her apathy profound.
“Carol! You’re on today?”
She looked up again. Haleh was grinning at her from the admit desk.
“Yeah. Till 9. You?”
“Ooh, I’m off in an hour.”
“We busy?”
“Not too bad. You ok? Your voice sounds strange.”
“I’m fine, Haleh. ” Carol pursed her lips and smiled, retreating into the lounge to deposit her bag and grab her stethoscope.
“Morning Carter,” she whispered to the hunched, sleeping form on the lounge chair.
He gave a little snore and ticked his head in his sleep. Carol rolled her eyes with a shake of her head, a small smirk appearing on her lips. Residents. She coughed into her hand and sighed, heading to the admit desk.
~*~*~*~
“What can I do?” she asked a little more feebly than she would have liked, looking up at the board.
Haleh peered at her for a second. “Are you sure you’re feelin’ alright? You look awful.”
“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Is Mark on?”
“He’s up in radiology.” She stepped up to Carol, placing a hand to her forehead. The nurse’s palm felt strikingly cold to Carol’s skin, and she pulled away.
“Carol. You’re burning up.” Haleh scolded lightly.
“No. I’m just warm. I walked from the el.” She look over at chairs, searching for a triage patient she could tend to and escape Haleh’s prodding. The section was empty, but an elderly man was making his way through the doors.
“I’m gonna go get this guy.” she nodded over to the man, but Haleh held her firmly.
“Sit.” She motioned to the desk chair sternly. “I’m getting a thermometer.”
Carol sighed and rolled her eyes, reluctantly collapsing into the chair. God... her feet were sore, and her shift had only just started.
Haleh returned a moment later, with Connie in tow. She popped the little glass meter into Carol’s mouth, while Connie wrapped a BP cuff around her arm.
“Guys, this is really unnecessary.” She told them around the thermometer, biting her bottom lip in exasperation. She’d told everyone about the baby a few months ago, knowing this would happen.
“Do you want to go into an exam room?” Connie asked as she read the cuff.
“No.”
“Then sit still.”
“What’s wrong?” Jerry’s concerned voice asked as he stepped up beside the three nurses.
“Nothing,” Carol said securely, glaring at Haleh and Connie. “They’re over-reacting. I’ve got a *cold*.” She re-enforced.
“You do look kinda pale.”
“Temp’s 102.” Haleh smirked in satisfaction.
“Your BP’s low, Carol.” Connie nodded. “You really should lie down.”
Carol stood up defiantly, thrusting a hand out quickly to balance herself on the desk when she was gripped with dizziness.
“Why don’t you go home?” Jerry offered, reaching out to steady her.
“Goddamnit, Jerry, I have a shift!” She snapped. “I can’t leave, there’s no one to cover. Besides, I’m just a little light headed. I didn’t get enough sleep.” She smiled curtly at her co-workers and stood up straight. “I appreciate the concern. Really.But I’ll be ok.”
“What’s the matter?” Mark asked the group, shoving a pile of charts into the rack as he neared the admit desk. “Jesus Carol, you look like hell.” He told her with a frown.
“Why thank you, Mark.” She sighed, and flopped back into the chair. “You’re gonna tell me to take the day off, now, aren’t you?” “Maybe you should. I’m off in 20 minutes. I’ll drive you home.”
“No, Mark, you don’t have to...” she balked. The last thing she needed was to owe a shift. Yet... her whole body was aching. She knew she wouldn’t last very long. “Only if you can find someone to cover. Alright?” She pursed her lips and looked at Haleh.
“No problem, honey. You just go and lie down in the lounge. I’ll take care of it.”
Carol stood up slowly, still a little unsure. “I appreciate it.”
“Wouldn’t want you putting any stress on that little one, eh?” Connie grinned and motioned to Carol’s mildly extended stomach.
“Hmm, I’m sure he would be fine with me working for a few hours,” she shook her head and returned the smile, heading to towards the lounge.
“I’ll come and get you when I’m ready to go,” Mark told her as she walked away. She nodded.
Carter was still snoring in the armchair when she eased onto the sofa. She slid a throw pillow under her aching neck and stretched out lengthways, bending her knees and relaxing into the couch. Her eyelids felt impossibly heavy. She closed them lightly, relishing the cease of flourescent light.
The newfound comfort was too much for her tired body, and before long, her breathing deepened and slowed, and she was sleeping. Sick and exhausted, she didn’t even have time to think about Doug. The usual haunting images she’d been plagued with every time she was near sleep stayed hidden in the depths of her memory and imagination.
But even in her subconscious, she was profoundly sad.
The dream began with a few thin threads of colour, beautiful reds and bright orange flashes sprouting and streaking in her mind’s eye. Soon, the solid form of fire materialized, its intense heat causing beads of sweat to form on her face.
Then he was there, as always, stepping out of the fire. His eyes were sad and woeful, his panicked remorse visible in their depths. His hands were scarred, the flesh raw and badly burnt. His lips were drawn into a thin line, and she longed to see them curl into his signature grin.
He stepped closer to her, then reached out and brushed a hand over her cheek tenderly. His touch was like a soft flicker of fire against her face. Warm and gentle... but not really there.
“You promised you’d be safe, Doug,” she told him, her voice quiet and hoarse with emotion.
“I know. I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He looked at her through his long, thick eyelashes, his round brown eyes glistening.
Carol gulped. There was so much she wanted to tell him, to ask him. But her lips wouldn’t form the words. She froze for a moment, hot tears of frustration and desperation stinging her eyes.
“I need to touch you,” she finally croaked, reaching out to him. He stepped away from her, back into the fire. “Please, Doug. I want to hold you.”
“I’m sorry,” he said again, so softly she could barely hear the words, before the menacing flames encompassed his trembling body.
The heat and the flicker of the fire dissolved slowly as she was pulled from her subconscious by a soft voice.
“Carol? Carol... open your eyes...”
She obliged, tearing herself from the dream. She opened her eyes to see Carter bent over her.
“Hey,” he smiled. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy,” she croaked, after a beat. She could feel the sweat collected on her face, partly from the fever, partly from the dream.
“Mmmm, glad to hear it. Mark told me to tell you that he’ll be ready in a few minutes. He’s finishing up with a patient in exam 2.” He offered her his hand and she took it.
She smiled feebly as he pulled her into a sitting position. “Let him know I’ll be a minute.” She flattened her hand on her stomach. “This little one’s using my bladder as soccer ball. I really gotta pee.”
The resident grinned and nodded, reaching out to help her maintain her balance as she stood. “Feel better, ok?”
“Is that doctor’s orders?”
“Absolutely,” he nodded.
“Thanks, Carter.” She patted his arm and hobbled out of the lounge, towards the bathroom, Doug’s voice still resonating in her ears.
___________________________________________________________________
Her first impulse was to scream. But she bit it back before it left her lips. A soft, wavering moan escaped instead. She closed her eyes fleetingly, trying to control her gulping breaths and calm her thrashing heart.
She pulled up her scrubs and tied them with difficulty. Her hands were shaking so much the strings just slipped through her fingers.
Carol ran into the hallway, trying to sort her thoughts. ‘Where did Carter say Mark was? Exam 4?’
Sure enough, Mark was there, smiling at a little girl as her mother picked her up, ready to bring her home.
“M-Mark....” she managed to choke. He looked up, concern flashing across his face upon hearing her anxious tone.
“Can I see you for a minute?” She grabbed onto the doorframe, afraid her wobbling knees would give out.
He nodded, turning to say goodbye to his patient as he followed Carol out into the hallway.
“What’s the matter? Are you alright?” He tipped his head and studied her.
“Um...” She bit her lip, her head spinning. “I’m bleeding.”
Shock registered on his face. “You want me to do an ultrasound?”
She nodded quickly, already heading towards the room where she knew a machine was waiting.
“Has this happened before?” he asked as he helped her onto a table and flicked on the ultrasound.
She shook her head. “A little spotting... nothing serious. Not like this.” Reaching out, she took the tube of gel and squirted the stuff over her exposed abdomen. “God, Mark, what if...”
“I’m sure everything’s fine, Carol,” he reassured as he prepped the receiver.
She gulped and nodded, licking her lips, her aching head and fever long forgotten.
The smooth plastic and metal instrument felt cold against her skin as it glided across the canvas of her belly.
“Is he ok, Mark?”
“Hold on,” he leaned in closer to the screen, his brow knitting.
“What is it? Mark...! What’s wrong?” Her voice was shrill and she tried to sit up, straining to see.
Suddenly, as he adjusted the machine, the pulsing of a beating heart filled the room.
Carol closed her eyes in relief, leaning back, letting her breath out slowly as the sound of her baby’s heartbeat filled her ears.
Mark looked to her, his smile spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling.
“What?” she asked, puzzled.
“Look for yourself,” he stood back to let her examine the ultrasound.
She watched in shock and wonderment as he traced the outline of her baby on the screen.
“That’s him...” she whispered softly, a foreign feeling of marvel and adoration spreading over her. “Is he ok?”
He nodded, his smile growing. “They both are.”
Carol’s mouth dropped open, immediately disbelieving. She starred at the screen. Sure enough, nestled in behind the first baby, a second form was visible.
“Twins?”
“Yeah, Carol. There’s two of them. Congratulations.”
“Whoa... this is... whoa...” she gasped, unable to take her eyes off the moving picture of her children. “I- they.... oh my God, Mark, there’s two of them!”
He smiled. “Do you wanna know the sexes?”
She shook her head and swallowed around the lump in her throat, still dragging her finger lightly over the shapes of the lives growing inside of her. “I can’t believe it. Are you sure they’re ok?”
He nodded again. “They look fine to me. I’m gonna send you up to OB to test for cervical polyps, but you look alright. Second trimester bleeding’s common with multiples, so its probably nothing.” Mark smiled again. “I’m off. Do you want me to come with you upstairs?”
She shook her head. She didn’t really want to be alone, but, he shouldn’t have to hold her hand. “I’ll be ok. Thanks so much, Mark.”
“Are you sure? Those OB docs can be pretty brutal.”
Carol laughed, then nodded.
“Alright, well, it shouldn’t take long. I’ve got some charts to finish up, so I’ll wait down here until you’re done and drive you home.”
“Oh, Mark, you don’t have to-,”
“I’ll make sure Coburn calls me when you’re done. Who’s your OB?”
“McLucas. You really don’t have to wait for me.”
The affable doctor smiled and pulled a wheelchair out from the corner. “Your chariot, mademoiselle.”
Carol sighed. “I can walk.”
“Ah, but how much fun is that?” He held out his hand and she surrendered, sliding off the table and into the chair.
Her head pounded it’s blatant reminder of her malady as the shock of Mark’s discovery wore off. She leaned back, resting her eyes, as he guided the chair through the ER halls.
Twins.
She was having twins.
___________________________________________________________________
The pelvic exam was less than comfortable. Dr. McLucas’ hands were cold as ice, and Carol couldn’t help but flinch when she touched her.
Much to her relief, when the exam was completed, the doctor cheerily announced that there were “no polyps here!”. A nurse was then sent in to draw her blood and get a UA, and Carol was told to wait another hour for the results.
Once alone, she was left with her brooding thoughts. She was going to have two babies. Two little lives to be responsible for, two tiny creatures to take care of.
Alone.
She couldn’t help thinking about how the situation would have differed if Doug was there. He would have laughed when they found out, and told her that she was an overachiever, that she could never do anything halfway. But he would have been deliriously happy. They’d dream up two names, one from her, and one from him, and argue about what the sex would be. He’d lean down every so often to kiss her stomach gently and whisper soft words to their babies that she couldn’t quite hear. He’d be the doting partner, worrying at every backache, fussing over her, never letting her overexert herself.
Carol sighed, pulling the thin sheet of the bed over her belly and leaning back into the stiff mattress. She looked at her watch. Her tests wouldn’t be back for another half hour. She hoped Mark hadn’t waited for her, but she knew he had.
The room she’d been put in was small and cramped with four other beds, divided by only thin curtains. It was a waiting area or an examination region of some sort, but she was the only one in it.
Someone had turned a radio on in the next room. She could hear the music drifting in softly through the thin walls, and she smiled lightly, her foul mood lifting somewhat.
Doug could sing.
It was something very few people knew about him, because it was something he very rarely did.
He learnt to play guitar in college. He wasn’t particularly wonderful- but he could play enough to strum his way through a handful of songs. He’d told Carol once that he used to play with a small band at a local bar for 25 bucks a night and free drinks. She’d only heard him a scarce few times, at a party or two, when he’d had enough to drink to shed his inhibitions and warble some Sinatra.
He wasn’t amazing. He wasn’t overly talented. But his deep, rough voice carried itself with just enough polished, simple melody to make her knees week. And she could never quite get over how impossibly stirring he looked cradling the guitar on his lap- his head bent, his strong hands plucking leisurely at the strings...
~*~Flashback~*~
“C’mon, Doug. Just *one* song...”
“No. No way, Carol. Not with everybody here.” His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson from her insistent urging.
“Jeanie brought her guitar...”
“So let *Jeanie* play it.”
“She already did, Doug. One song, I promise. Then you can do whatever you want.” Carol leaned in closer to him, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter emanating from the living room, where the ER staff party was taking place. She grinned entreatingly, her hand resting on his forearm.
“I don’t want to, Carol. It’s- I’m no good.” He shook his head, looking down at her, his eyes laughing, enjoying her pleading. His protests were mild. She was wearing him down- along with the alcohol they’d consumed- and she was sure he’d give in if she kept up long enough.
“Nonsense. They’ll love you. Besides, half of them are so drunk they won’t even remember.”
“Then what’s the point?”
“*I’ll* remember.” She raised an eyebrow, teasing and wicked. “C’mon, play for me. Just a little Sinatra.”
Doug sighed and rubbed his hands over her upper arms affectionately. He tilted his head. “Sinatra? For you?”
She grinned widely and nodded.
“Okay.”
“Terrific.” Carol grabbed his hand and led him, his eyes glued to the floor bashfully, into the living room.
“Doug’s gonna sing for us!” She exclaimed with an excited giggle.
A cheer rose up from the room and the staff raised their glasses to the pediatrician.
“Alright Doug!” Mark, who was a little passed tipsy, shouted.
Chuni snorted, laughing, as her drink sloshed over the side of the glass and onto her lap.
“Yeah, uh... hmm,” Doug grunted as he eased into a chair and took the guitar Carol handed him.
She walked across the room and sat on the floor by the fireplace, crossing her legs and leaning back to watch him.
He patted the body of the instrument, hesitantly, once. Then, after clearing his throat and strumming a few starting chords, he started to sing.
The laughter quieted and the medical personnel dispersed around the room turned to watch their colleague with amused, slightly surprised faces.
He never took his eyes off the guitar. Carol watched in quiet fascination as played. She was mesmerized by his hands- moving so gently and comfortably along the strings, caressing the instrument as he coaxed soft music from it’s belly.
“I'll be lovin' you... always
With a love that's true... always
When the things you've planned need a helpin' hand
I will understand, always.... always”
Doug looked up, then, and caught her gaze. He held it firmly, his eyes bearing into hers as his lips formed Frank Sinatra’s sweet words.
Carol sighed, dazed, and smiled softly at him, resting her chin in her hands.
“Days may not be fair... always
That's when I'll be there... always
Not for just an hour, not just a day
Not for just one year, but always
Always.”
~*~End Flashback~*~
Carol sighed and turned her face into the pillow under her head, trying to keep his voice inside her head, grasping desperately at his fading image.
They’d been so happy then. His new position of Pediatric Attending had him on cloud nine, and when the work load of the new Pedes ER waned, and he was home alot more. That, Carol concluded, had been the best time, for them. They’d take weekends off and retreat to a bed and breakfast on the outskirts of Niagra Falls, where they’d curl up together on a deck chair and read. Well, she read, mostly. He was content just to hold her and play with her hair and look out over the lake and loose himself in his thoughts.
The memories were no comfort unless they could be supported by his actual presence. Unless she could hear his deep, soothing voice whispering in her ears. Unless she could actually feel his skin touching hers.
Carol imagined his warm, strong hands gently kneading the aching tension from her body, his strength concentrated on easing her discomfort, his tenderness working the knolls of stress from her mind.
It was so easy to slip into an illusion. She did it unconsciously, often when she was lonely. Before, when she began to fabricate the images of Doug, she’d chastise herself, afraid to remember him, afraid to feel too much. But after months of trying to ignore the products of her memory and imagination, she’d resigned and accepted the visions as a comfort. It was a way to stay close to him, to hold on to him. For as much as afraid as she was to remember, she was more afraid to forget.
The very hardest thing was knowing her children would never know him. They’d never know his gentle touch. He’d never hold them or tell them he loved them. She’d never get to listen at the doorway as he read them stories, never get to watch out the window as he played with them on the lawn.
He wanted a baby so much. And she wanted so much to give him one. But now there was a baby. Two babies.
And Doug would never know them.
The thought was devastating.
People always commented on how wonderful he was with children. But those who knew him well realized that the gentleness and soothing demeanor was his true nature. He was like that when he was comfortable, and he was comfortable around children. But that same tenderness was evident in almost every thing he did. When he stooped to switch off a table lamp, the way his back bent and his shoulder flexed and his strong arm reached out gracefully always took her breath away. Maybe it was the fact that such gentleness was strange to see emanating from such a solid, rugged man. It was endearing, if anything, and she found herself longing for his tender strength immensely.
Often, when she was lying in bed, trying to sleep, she heard him breathing beside her, low and deep and even, like he did when he was sleeping soundly. But when she turned around, there was nothing but empty space. It was then that she longed for him the most. The ache to feel his warmth around her and his breath on the back of her neck was intense and horrible. The tears that fell onto her pillow on those nights were the product of the striking pain that flowed through her in swift, violent currents.
Carol swallowed hard and opened her eyes to find that she was weeping. The sheets of the hospital bed were clenched in her fists tightly. She untangled them and reached up to wipe her face. It seemed that she couldn’t go very long without breaking down anymore.
The tight, threatening black cloud of prickly anguish was beginning to build inside of her again. She could feel it growing, and as hard as she tried to force it away, it grew bigger and bigger until it was bubbling underneath her skin, begging for relief, pleading to be alleviated.
She needed to ease the pain.
She needed to stop the overwhelming throbbing inside of her head.
Slowly, carefully, Carol pulled herself into a sitting position. She looked around. The room was pretty orderly. OB nurses cleaned up almost as well as the ER staff, it seemed.
There was a safety pin in the pocket of her scrubs, she knew. With some difficulty, she reached under the bed for the plastic bag she’d stashed her scrubs in. Pulling out the safety pin, she held it in her palm, simply starring at it. The cold, shiny metal pin felt so small and light in her hand, gleaming under the bright hospital lights.
How good it would feel to just let it’s sharp edge dip into the soft flesh of her arm...
She knew that with one little prick, she could ease the severity of her loneliness.
But did she want to? She knew about self-mutilation. She knew all about depression.
But... she was a nurse, and she knew what she was doing.. She could control it. She was grieving. It was normal.
Carol scraped the cool sharpness over her skin, letting it leave a slim, red scratch in her flesh.
‘Just one more time.’
Taking a breath, she plunged the tip of the pin into the skin a few inches down from her wrist. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on the physical pain it caused her.
Immediately, the hurt she felt shifted into two separate margins, and it was better.
Almost manageable.
“Carol...?”
Her head shot up like lightening at Mark’s voice, her concentration broken.
She starred, stunned, for a moment. Then a feeling of deep embarrassment and shame washed over her, and she slipped the pin out of her arm, looking down at her lap.
In two strides Mark was at her bedside. He grabbed her wrist, almost roughly, and held her arm up in front of her as a thin stream of deep crimson blood made it’s way down her cream-coloured skin.
“What is this? What are you doing?” His voice was low and soft and... angry. His face was the picture of incredulousness. He was shaking his head slowly, peering at her, his eyes sad with disappointment and concern.
She said nothing, but kept her focus on an invisible stain on the bed sheet.
“Carol! What are you doing?” He was louder.
Her only answer was to clasp her free hand over her mouth in attempt to muffle the sob that had managed to escape. She closed her eyes tightly and turned away from the doctor, trying in vain to release herself from his grasp.
“Stop it. Stop it... look at me...” Mark’s expression softened when he saw her. Her eyes were sunken into her face and the dark circles beneath them told of her exhaustion. In them he saw the intense sadness she felt, the loneliness, the anguish, the absolute desperation.
“Please, Carol,” he pleaded, his initial anger retreating from his voice. “Why did you do that?” He loosened his grip on her arm and moved to sit on the edge of the narrow bed.
“I- I... just...” she choked, her shoulders heaving with the gulping sobs erupting out of her chest, hot tears streaming down her face. The explosive pain that had been building inside of her was seeping out whether she liked it or not, whatever way it could, and there was no stopping her tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.... Mark...”
“Hey... ok...” He soothed, rather awkwardly, his lips pursed.
“It just... it hurts, Mark.” She tried to wipe the trail of blood from her arm but only managed to smear it into an derisive arch of red. With a soft cry she began to rub furiously at the blood, scrubbing the tender skin. “Its eating me. Its... its tearing at my skin. I can’t... can’t make it go away.”
“I know, ok,” he reached out and placed a hand over her trembling one, easing her hectic scratching. She was still for a second. Then, with an encompassing shudder she fell into his arms, weeping and shaking, finally unable to contain her sorrow.
He let her cry for a good twenty minutes, until her sobbing receded and her trembling lessened. When she pulled away and sat up and wiped her face with a weary sigh, he smiled hesitantly.
“Talk to me. Tell me why you’re hurting so much, Carol. Please.”
She sniffled and took a deep breath and began to speak softly.
“When I found out I was pregnant, I went off my meds. I’d been taking anti-depressants since... since... for a few years. And... I’d been taking sleeping pills since Doug left.” She closed her eyes as the headache she’d had all day exploded into a full-scale migraine.
“And you stopped taking them to protect the baby.”
“Right. But... it just seemed to get worse after that. Everything is just... hard. I still miss him. I’m always waiting for it to get better. I’m waiting for this- this ache to go away. But everyday it hurts just a little stronger than it did the day before. Every day I miss him that much more.
I can’t sleep. Everytime my head hits the pillow, he’s there. He’ s calling for me- and I can’t help him. Sometimes- Sometimes I can’t breathe. I wake up in the middle of the night.... and its dark... and I’m so ...alone.... and... I just can’t breathe.
I want to take the pills. I want to sleep, where it doesn’t hurt as much.”
“Are you depressed, Carol?” He watched her carefully, his expression serious and cautious.
She nodded slowly. “I can’t do anything. I can’t stop crying. Its so overwhelming.”
“What’s overwhelming?”
“Everything. Simple things, like... stuff at work. Big things. Living without Doug... knowing I’m gonna have to raise two babies by myself. I can’t do this. I can’t be a mother. I can’t take care of two helpless babies... when I can’t take care of myself.”
“You’re gonna be fine. Just wait and see.”
“No,” she shook her head firmly. “I’m not. I’m going crazy. You saw me, what I do.” She held out her arms so he could see the little red bumps and scars. “Its all I can do. It makes it hurt a little less, you know?”
He didn’t know. But... “You are not crazy. Understand? You’re not. You’re scared.”
Carol gulped and nodded. Scared. She certainly was.
“But what you’re doing isn’t good.”
“I know,” she whispered.
“Its destructive. It can lead to chronic self-mutilation. It could get out of hand and you could end up hurting yourself very badly.” Mark sighed. “ I lost my best friend, Carol. Please, don’t make me loose you too.”
She nodded again, the lump of fear and emotion welling in her throat prevented her from speaking.
“I’m gonna make an appointment for you with Catherine Morin. She’s a grief counselor with a private practice downtown. I went to high school with her. I think you’ll like her.”
“Alright,” Carol whispered, still staring at her battered arms.
“I’d like to come with you to your first appointment. Is that ok?”
“Yeah, Mark. I’d appreciate that.”
“What did Coburn have to say, anyway?”
“No polyps. I’m fine, besides the flu. And I’m a little anemic,” she admitted softly with a shrug.
“You need to eat better,” Mark warned. “You’re losing weight, I can tell. You need to be putting on more than 25 pounds in order for your little ones to have healthy birth weights. You’re eating for three now, remember.”
“How could I forget?” She smiled then, rubbing her abdomen. “I guess the twins factor might explain why I’m so huge.”
Mark returned her smile. “Just wait until the third trimester.”
She laughed softly, her giggle punctuated by a quiet sigh. “I wish he was here.”
“Me too,” Mark nodded. “But we’re all gonna help you. You’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna have two beautiful babies, and you’re gonna love those babies so much.”
She nodded, seeming unconvinced.
“So much, Carol. You have no idea how amazing it is.”
“I do want them. I really do. I just wish it was happening under different circumstances.”
Mark stood up. “It’ll work out. C’mon, you ready to blow this joint?”
“Absolutely,” she nodded, feeling drained and sore and tired. But... better, somehow. Like a great load had just been lifted from her shoulders. Her gratitude to her friend suddenly seared through her, and she felt an overwhelming need to thank him.
“Mark?” She asked, looking up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Aw, I think you’d get along just fine.”
“No, really. You’re my rock. I love you.”
He smiled softly and bent down to kiss her forehead gently.
___________________________________________________________________
They pulled up in front of the little grey-bricked house beside the el tracks, and Mark hit the brakes, causing the van to stop with a jerk and a squeal.
Carol adjusted the tan leather bag on her lap and looked to her friend. “Thanks, Mark.”
“No problem. You’re on my way.”
She grinned. “No I’m not.”
“Well...” He ducked his head to hide his own smirk. “It’s on the way to Elizabeth’s...”
“Oh...I get it now. Ya make everyone believe you’re doing a nice thing for a friend, but really, you’re going over to your girlfriend’s.” Carol furrowed her brow in mock disgust and opened the van door.
Mark shook his head sadly. “You caught me.”
“Say hi to Elizabeth for me.”
“Will do. Now, go run yourself a warm bath and get off your feet.”
“Yes mother,” she nodded with a small smile, stepping out of the van and onto the concrete sidewalk in front of her house.
“I’ll call you later tonight,” he shouted out the window.
“Bye, Mark,” she waved halfheartedly as he drove off.
The air was still heavy with sticky humidity from the rain the night before. The sun was struggling behind a set of dark, angry clouds, and Carol rolled her eyes as she watched it’s weak rays reach around the grey masses in futile attempts to brighten Chicago.
“Give it up,” she whispered into the sky, and pushed the front door open.
The house was dark and silent and still and overwhelmingly lonely.
She flicked on the kitchen light, and walked through to the bathroom. Turning the temperature as hot as she could stand, she started to fill the bathtub. Then, reaching into the cabinet for the second time that day, she seized the bottle of aspirin, shook out three pills and swallowed them in one gulp.
When the bath was full, she shed her scrubs and eased into the water. It felt strangely cold against her fevered skin, and she sighed restlessly, shivering.
Looking cross the room, she could see herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She smiled softly when she realized she could see the bulge of her stomach over the edge of the bathtub. She was pregnant- and she looked it. But what Carol couldn’t decide was whether she was thrilled by her growing form... or irritated by it.
She ran her hands gently over her belly in the water, suddenly hoping to feel some sort of movement. She hadn’t felt anything yet- no kicks or turns or shifting. It was normal for 20 weeks, but she couldn’t help wanting that contact. That sign of life.
Carol closed her eyes and leaned back in the tub, resting her weary head on the rim and sinking down in the water. It was hard to imagine that in a few months, the number of persons in her house would go from one to three. She never really thought about having a big family. She always knew she wanted to have a baby- and after she and Doug had decided to try, she’d been dead set on having one. But how she was going to manage two of them without him... the idea was overwhelming and much too real.
Her pregnancy, if anything, stirred conflicting emotions. She had been so devastated at the prospect of having to raise the baby Doug had wanted so much without him, that she hadn’t even considered how nice it would be to have someone in her house again.
She would have tiny bundles of flesh and nerves and love, dependant on only her to survive. She imagined, wistfully, that with the arrival of her twins, her house would be filled with love and laughter and the loneliness that dwelt there now would vanish. She envisioned beautiful little pink bodies she could cradle in her arms and who would love her and fill the hole in her heart Doug’s death had left.
Carol wasn’t yet sure what sex the babies would be, or what she wanted. She pictured, in delight, two boys. They would be the image of their father, sturdy and handsome, but lovable and sweet and able to charm their way out of trouble with the greatest of ease. They’d have his eyes- those deep, dark pools of brown chocolate that danced merely with his amusement and laughed right along with his lips.
Or, the babies could be girls. Two petite, precious human beings she could adorn with lacy little dresses and miniature mary-janes and baby headbands. Then, as they grew, she would teach them how to apply make-up and style their hair and irritate boys.
Having girls, she concluded, would be the most difficult. She knew that Doug had wanted a girl. He’d never admitted it, but when they’d pass through a baby supply shop, he’d wonderingly finger the tiny dresses and bows and smile. And he’d always referred to the child they would have as ‘she’.
~*~Flashback~*~
Click.
Carol opened her eyes at the sound of the front door quietly clicking shut. She yawned and looked at the clock on the TV. 1:46. She’d fallen asleep on the sofa.
Soft footsteps echoed through the hall, and she heard him shrugging off his coat and stepping out of his boots. The footsteps grew louder as he neared the living room, and she sat up.
“Hey,” Doug’s voice was low and surprised as he noticed her form on the sofa. “What are you doing up?”
“I was waiting for you. I fell asleep,” she smiled and reached out to him as he bent down to kiss her lips gently.
“You didn’t have to wait,” he eased onto the sofa beside her, letting his head fall back onto the cushions.
“I know. I was watching a program on decorating nurseries.”
He smiled and, slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulled her closer into his chest. She was soft and warm against his cold skin, chilled from being outside in the late December air.
“What do you think, Doug, boy or girl?” Carol murmured into the soft cotton of his shirt.
“Mmm, I dunno. As long as its healthy, I’m fine with either.”
“Really? You don’t have a preference?”
“No.” He shook his head, letting his fingers trail through her curls. “It has to have your hair, though.”
Carol laughed and pulled away a little to look up at him. “I wouldn’t wish that burden on anyone.”
Doug chuckled. “Just as long as it’s a baby. If it comes from you, it’ll be beautiful.”
“Do you think we’re meant to have child? I mean... we’ve been trying for more than four months...”
“I know we’re gonna have a baby, Carol. Just you wait. She’ll be so pretty, all pink and wriggling...”
“It just seems like its taking forever.”
“I know.” His hand traveled down her side and gently slipped under her t-shirt. “I promise,” his voice was barely a whisper as he traced invisible patterns over the soft, warm skin of her flat stomach, “Soon there’ll be a little life... right here.”
“I can’t wait, Doug.”
“Me neither.”
With a small smile, she reached a hand up behind his head and pulled his face down to meet hers.
“It’ll happen because I love you,” he whispered slowly, before their lips met and she melted into him effortlessly.
~*~End Flashback~*~
Sighing softly, Carol pulled herself up in the bathtub. The water had turned tepid and she was shivering wildly.
Grabbing a towel from the rack, she stepped onto the cool linoleum and began to rub her mass of tangled curls vigorously, causing a fleet of frigid droplets of water to fall onto her back. The cold air washed over her wet skin, making her teeth chatter relentlessly.
She picked Doug’s robe off the back of the door, where it was routinely hung, and wrapped herself in it’s terrycloth softness. She’d taken to wearing his clothes at home- his shirts to bed, his robe after a shower. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes and breathed deeply, she could still smell him. Of course, it was only her imagination, but it was a sweet solace nonetheless.
Her exhaustion was powerful. Between the insomnia, the pregnancy, and the nasty virus attacking her body, Carol could barely keep her eyes open. The aspirin she’d taken was beginning to take affect, and the pain in her head had been minimized to a dull ache.
Not yet ready to face the cold sheets of her bed, she nestled into the sofa across from the television, and flipped it on. The channel four news bulletin was flashing across the screen, the reporter smiling away in her pea-green suit.
Carol turned up the volume halfheartedly.
“This morning, after more than 6 months of negotiations, quarrels and tragedy, a document has been singed stating that Serbian troops will be forced to move out of Kosovo and Albanian refugees will return to their homes when damage is repaired. Slobodan Milosevic has been declared a criminal in more than 50 countries.”
The reporter smiled. “From today, June 30th, 1999, the fighting will stop in Kosovo. The war is over.”
Carol found herself crying. Waves of emotion wracked her body- happiness and triumph for the refugees and the people Doug had died trying to save, anger that there was a war in the first place, sorrow that he wasn’t here to see this, and a strange, overpowering sense of ridiculous hope.
Her prior fatigue forgotten, Carol leapt from the sofa and bounded into her bedroom, almost tripping in her haste. The church candle lay on the floor, chipped and insulted, where she’d thrown it that morning.
Almost frantically, she picked up the candle and righted it on her dresser, dusting off the chipped rim. It was still intact. She opened a drawer and pulled out a book of matches. With shaking fingers, she lit a match and held it over the wick. With a sizzle and a spark, a healthy orange flame captured the taper.
Carol sighed and closed her eyes, its warmth filling her with repose. The war in Kosovo was over. If there was any chance in any life that Doug was alive, he’d come home now.
Opening her eyes, Carol gazed at the flame. It was irrational. It was insane. It was impossible. She knew he was dead. In the deepest caves of her intelligence, she knew it. But there was still a part of her, the part who’d always loved him, the part who longed for him with such intensity it physically ached, who’d believe anything if it meant touching him one last time.
A tingle of despair burned through her, and she felt the familiar desperation settle over her. Swallowing hard, she opened the dresser drawer again and pulled out Doug’s razors. An intrepid smile flashed on her lips as she began to pull the blades out, one by one, from each razor. When she’d collected them all, she walked to the kitchen and dropped them into the garbage disposal. She laughed, with tears of yielding exasperation rolling down her face as the machine groaned and wept as it swallowed the bits of metal.
___________________________________________________________________
Back in her room, she sat on the edge of the bed and starred at the candle. She’d come to the conclusion, that morning, that both God and Doug had forsaken her. That every promise Doug had ever made her had been empty and weak.
Doug’s words whispered softly in her ears as she ran a gentle hand over her swollen abdomen.
~“I promise, soon there’ll be a little life... right here.”~
And as he’d assured, there was.
And maybe, if that promise had been true and strong, the others he’d made over the years were too.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that God hadn’t really forgotten about her. The only reason she hadn’t spent the last months binging on alcohol and antidepressants was because she was responsible for more lives than her own. The only thing that had saved her from self-destruction were the two babies that Doug had given her.
Even though he hadn’t been with her tangibly, Doug had still managed to protect her.
In the most precious way, he was still with her. The very lives growing inside her were a product of his love. Of their love. They were pieces of Doug.
Suddenly, Carol felt a tiny movement inside of her. Furrowing her brow, she pressed her hand to her belly. Again, the little blip came, and she felt it against her palm.
A smile fluttered across her lips as she was flooded with an impossible feeling of love and incredulousness.
And maybe she wasn’t so alone after all.
___________________________________________________________________
The rain pounded down on the roof, flooding the house with loud, drumming noise. There was no lightning, no thunder, only the tempestuous percussion of the early summer shower.
Carol finished doing up her heavy raincoat and stepped out into the rhythmic fall of water. The raindrops pelted her face and hair, but it was a warm rain, whispering the promise of comfortable summer weather. She lifted her face into it, unshielded, and breathed in as deeply as she could, letting the sweet, thick air fill her lungs gloriously.
Resting her palms on her stomach, she smiled. Then, raising her voice over the shower, she began to sing out into the rain, to her children, to Doug.
“I'll be lovin' you... always
With a love that's true... always
When the things you've planned need a helpin' hand
I will understand, always.... always”
___________________________________________________________________
~*~*~*~
Grief has a quality of healing in it that is very deep because we are forced to a depth of emotion that is usually below the threshold of our awareness.
~Anonymous
~*~*~*~
So. That took me a whole month. Pretty sad, huh? Just a little note, the ending to this was a total surprise to me. It was *not* supposed to be happy at all! Ah well. You were probably getting tired of my depressing storylines, huh?
I’ve you’ve got a minute, send me some feedback! I’d love to hear from you.
Part 6
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