Without You

– Scotch –

Empty, Like My Heart

I pull into the parking lot behind my apartment the following Tuesday, and feel the first stab of emptiness tear through my gut. I’m not even inside yet, but my home feels empty.

I grab my bag of cleaned and pressed clothes that Britt insisted on fixing for me, then slam the car door and kick rocks as I move toward the stairs. I’ve been hiding out in my sister’s spare bedroom for a week, even at the expense of being teased by her husband’s family. I’ve had to watch Tink walk by and glare at me, and her husband walk by and smirk at me. I’ve had to listen to Britt explain a billion times why I’m making the right decision, and then I’ve listened to Ang and Luc lecture me on why I’m making the wrong decision.

I’ve snuggled with Charlie so much I’ve been kicked off the Roller estate for not sharing him. And the whole time, I wanted it to be Lily I held, and I wanted Sammy to be by my side. I wanted to hear her laugh, and above all else, I just fucking want her to tell me she’s sorry. I want to forgive her. I want us to at least be on talking terms again. But I can’t let her ‘my bad’ go. I can’t push my pride aside, because she fucking hurt me, and I need something back. Something to plug the hole of hurt.

All I’m accomplishing is plugging the hole with pride and stupidity.

I haven’t seen Sammy once since I walked away from our meeting last week. I haven’t received a text or call. I asked Jules, and while she said she had seen her earlier in the week, she ‘can’t and won’t’ tell me why.

I’ve stayed away from my apartment so Sammy would have somewhere comfortable to stay, but I haven’t been man enough to come home and make sure they’re okay.

But today is Lily’s pediatrician appointment in the city, and I said I’d be there. Even if Sammy’s shitty old car isn’t sitting in my lot, which means she’s probably already driven in herself, I’m still going to be there, and I’m going to use my self-proclaimed husbandly duties and pretend I’m there purely out of obligation.

Really, I’m going because I miss them so fucking much it hurts, but I’m too proud to admit it.

I open my door and walk into freezing air and silence, and I shiver as the cold stings my nose and ears. Jesus, it’s freezing in here. I walk around my kitchen to the thermostat, and swear as I read the dial. Fifty degrees. I press the screen and pump the heat up, and I wait to hear if the air kicks in, or if my thermostat is broken and I’ll finally have to pay to get one of those programmable fuckers.

I blow warm breath into my hands and step foot to foot in an attempt to shake my balls loose of my body. When hot air blasts up through the floor, I breathe a sigh of relief. Shoving my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, I walk through the kitchen and into my living room, and the emptiness of my home niggles at the back of my brain. I know she’s not here. Her car is gone. But why does it feel emptier than it should?

I walk to my room and throw my bag down, then pulling my sweater off and pulling on a clean one from the top of the stack, I walk out again and move slowly through my living room.

It’s all so… empty.

I stand in the hallway leading to the girls’ bedroom, but it’s still silent. I hesitate to poke my head in, but I know they’re not here, so I turn the knob and do it anyway, and my stomach drops at the stark cleanliness of the room. A week ago, there was a travel crib right beside her bed, and an assortment of pink blankets lying around. There was a diaper bag overflowing with wipes and diapers and creams, and a suitcase filed to the brim with Sammy and Lily clothes mixed haphazardly.

Today, there’s an unmade bed with a pile of crisp clean and folded sheets. There are pillows without slips piled at the head of the bed, then clean towels folded and stacked beside the pillow. The overflowing suitcase is gone. The crib is gone. Every single tiny piece of baby paraphernalia is gone, and just like she promised, it’s like they were never here.

I move out to my living room and note the missing rug Sammy laid out last week so Lily could spend time on the floor.

I move to the kitchen and open cupboards. The tins of formula are gone. The scoop is gone. The bottles are gone. The iron supplements and syringes are all fucking gone.

I spin and stop hard when my eyes finally latch onto the thing that’s been niggling at my brain. An envelope I haven’t looked at in forever. An envelope that I sat and stared at every Friday night for years after she left. An envelope that’s worn on the corners and holds papers that have the power to change my life, but at the same time, not a whole lot changes.

I snatch it up and pull the papers out, and I choke when my eyes latch onto the flourishing signatures. She dated it a week ago.

I grab my keys and wallet, then pulling the list from my pocket, I start googling the pediatrician’s office she listed when we first started this thing. I run out my door and skip steps on the way down. Jumping into my car, I set my phone and GPS on the dash and start driving into the city.

I don’t know what I’ll do when I get there, but I’ve spent the last week thinking the girls were safe and warm in my apartment, and now I just need to see them for myself.

I listen to the oldies station on the radio and tap my hands on the steering wheel in an attempt to release some nervous energy while I drive, and though it feels like six hours instead of one, eventually my GPS tells me to turn off. It leads me through downtown streets until I pull up at a fancy office right beside the hospital. Convenient location, I guess.

I jump out and pocket my keys, and stride along the sidewalk, my long legs eating up the space quickly. I look around in search of Sammy’s car as I open the heavy front door leading into the office. Warmth smacks me in the face as soon as the door closes behind me. Babies giggle or cry in the waiting room. Children run around smacking each other with plastic hammers, and harried mothers sit in the plastic chairs shushing their offspring.

“Hello. Can I help you?”

My eyes lift to the young receptionist’s as she looks me up and down. Stepping away from the waiting room, I move toward her. “Hi. My name is Sam Turner and I’m meeting my wife and daughter here.” I look back to the waiting room. “But, I guess they’re not here yet.”

She starts typing at her computer, then frowning, she types some more. “Mr. Turner…? Does your wife and daughter carry another name? I can’t seem to find them--”

“Oh, yep. Ricardo. Try Samantha Ricardo. And Lily.”

“Oh Sam and Samantha, isn’t that just the cutest?”

I chuckle lightly. “Yeah, we caught some teasing about that in high school.”

“High school sweethearts?” She looks back up at me with hearts in her eyes and a broad smile, but when I only smile at her computer, she looks back down and continues to work. She frowns after a full minute, then picking up her phone, she calls someone and speaks in hushed tones.

Sweat breaks out and trickles along my spine as she turns her head just the slightest bit to stop me from listening in, but then she replies positively and hangs up. “Okay, Mr. Turner. Lily has been moved up to the pediatric unit upstairs.”

I look to the ceiling, then back to her. “Upstairs?”

“Next door.” She smiles and points to her left. “Walk that way; there’s a hall at the end, then if you follow that without turning off, you’ll find yourself in the hospital administration area. Tell them you’re looking for your wife and someone will buzz you up.”

“Her appointment isn’t in here today?”

“No sir. She’s been transferred up, so luckily you won’t have to wait around anymore.”

She continues to point to her left, so I move quickly and follow her directions through a hospital a billion times bigger than the one we have at home. I walk for several minutes before I finally reach the end of a bland white hall, then I emerge into a fancy reception area with a water fountain and lounges, instead of shitty plastic chairs and crying people.

I walk up to the long desk with several perky receptionists, and wait until one makes eye contact with me. “Hello sir.”

“Hey. I’m looking for my wife, Samantha Ricardo. She’s in the pediatric ward with my daughter, Lily.”

She smiles and taps at her computer. “Okay, they’re on the seventh floor, room seven-four-four.”

“Okay, thanks.”

“Elevators are just over that way. Can I help you with anything else?”

“Nah, I’m good. Thanks.”

I jog to the elevators, then exiting on the seventh floor, my excitement at seeing them turns to a heavy leaden ball in my stomach. I walk past dark room after dark room as the children up here are all but silent. Where are the crying kids? Where’s the giggling and the TV’s on the cartoon channels? I walk past door after door as the sound of heart rate monitors follow me. I reach Lily’s room just half a second before I break out in a sprint and manic rage. My heart stutters and stops when I find her asleep with breathing tubes and wires taped to her bare chest, then Sammy slumped in the chair beside her, with her finger in Lily’s hand and her face flat on the bed as she sleeps.

Sammy’s dirty and knotted hair is tied up in a messy bun at the top of her head. She’s wearing a black and white button up flannel shirt that I immediately recognize as mine, but I don’t mind she has it. As though she senses me nearby, her head snaps up and her eyes take in the room in confusion. Her free hand comes up to rub at her face, sniffling and wiping drool from the corners of her lips.

“Sam.” She blinks several times in a row. She keeps her finger secured in Lily’s tiny hand, but uses the other to swipe at her hair and straighten her shirt as she regains her equilibrium. “Hey.”

I hesitantly step into the room as my heart hammers in my chest. “What happened, Ricci?”

“She’s okay,” she assures me quickly. “We’ve had a rough forty-eight hours, but she’s okay.”

“What happened?”

“Umm…” Sammy’s voice cracks as she sits up tall and stretches her back. “Lil’s sensors went off a couple nights ago.”

“Sensors?”

“Breathing. She stopped breathing.”

I stop breathing as her words penetrate my mind. I step forward and hover over Lily’s tiny sleeping body. “Is she okay?”

“Yeah. Her sensors went off, so I went in and grabbed her,” Sammy’s voice cracks again as she looks up at me like a scared little kid. “Her lips were already going blue. I called an ambulance and breathed for her as well as I could. We had to learn that for work, but I never realized how much I forgot until I needed to help her.”

“What happened next?”

“Luc came and took her away.”

I frown. “Luc?”

She smiles quaveringly. “Not our Luc. But in my mind, I pretended he was. It made me feel safer knowing someone I know was helping her.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you, Ricci.”

At my words, Sammy’s sad eyes blink clearer, her posture snaps straighter. She wipes her hand over her nose, then she clears her throat. “It’s fine. So it turns out Lily has a heart murmur. She’s been assigned to a cardiologist. She’s had echocardiograms, she’s been in for X-rays. In the end, they decided it’s ‘normal’ and will go away as she grows.”

“Why’s she still in here? What’s with all the wires?”

“She has a little cold, so she’s having trouble breathing. But we get to go home tomorrow, I think”

“So that’s why you packed up and left my apartment? You needed your things?”

She watches me for a long minute, and I study the freckles peppering her nose and the dark circles under her eyes. “No, I packed my things up a week ago, Sam. We were home for five nights before we came in here. I guess you haven’t been home then, huh?”

I clear my throat. “Umm. Nah, I’ve been around.”

“You can go back to your apartment tonight. We cleaned up after ourselves.”

“But what about--” I clear my throat again. “What about me helping you with the adoption?”

“I signed your papers. You don’t have to worry about us anymore.”

“Ricci--”

“You don’t owe me anything, Sam, but I’m asking you to please stop calling me that. I don’t like it.”

“You don’t like me calling you Ricci?”

She shakes her jerkily.

“What would you rather?”

She lets out a deep sigh as Lily turns her head in her sleep. “Samantha is fine. It’s my name, after all.”

“Sammy--”

“You can go, okay?” Her eyes pierce right through mine. “We’re done. I appreciate your hospitality. But you can go. Live a happy life, okay?”

“Sammy--”

“I know we… had sex last week. But I learned my lesson back in high school. I haven’t missed a single pill, but if by some cruel twist of fate the universe fucks us over again, I’m going to be taking care of it. You don’t have to worry about any loose ends here.”

“Take care of it?”

“Yeah. Just don’t worry about it.”

“An abortion?”

She takes a deep breath. “Yeah. You and I cannot live a decent co-parenting life, Sam. We’ve already tried. I’m not tying myself to that kind of lifestyle, and I won’t tie you either. But there’s no reason to worry. The timing is completely wrong, and I’m on the pill. But if something pops up…”

“Yeah, something popping up would be inconvenient, huh?” My teeth grind together all over again. I want us to get along, but she says things like this and it takes me right back.

Sammy’s delicate fingers stroke Lily’s, and I swallow the lump in my throat at seeing them both looking so sad and defeated. “You can go now, Sam. I’ve got it from here.”

“What if I wanna see more of her?”

Sammy’s eyes come to mine in surprise. “I’m going to get the divorce finalized, so you don’t have to worry. You won’t be obligated…”

“That’s not what I asked. I said what if I want to see her?”

“Umm… I guess if you really wanted to, we could organize visits.”

“Like co-parenting?”

“I guess. But she won’t be yours, Sam. I’m adopting her alone. So, you’ll get periodic snuggles with her, but without the worry or obligation of anything more. Then when she’s old enough to decide, she can tell us if she wants to continue that relationship.”

“So, that’s it?” I ask angrily. “All done?”

She swallows heavily. “That’s it. All done.”

“What if I don’t file the divorce papers?”

She wipes her hand across her still tired eyes. “I don’t know why you’d drag it out. We’re both kinda over it by this point, but if you get a kick out of wasting time and money, well, you’d be hurting Lily, not me. The longer this drags out, the longer it’ll take to finalize the adoption.”

“What if I don’t want to divorce? What if I want to adopt her too?”

Sammy’s eyes fire with anger at my continued questions. “Well she’s mine, Sam! She’s mine, and I’ll be damned if you or anyone else is gonna take her away. Just give me a damn divorce already, and go away.”

Her words slice me open, but her tears slap a band-aid over it. She’s trying to hurt me, but she’s hurting herself in the process, and for her to hurt, that means she feels. I can walk away today knowing she feels something. “I just want to hear you tell me you’re sorry, Sammy. You hurt me a long time ago, and I know those actions can’t be undone. But I want to live my life not so angry. I can’t move on without your sorry.”

“You want me to apologize for leaving? Or for aborting?”

My stomach rolls with nausea. “Both. I wish you didn’t do either. But I can’t change the past any more than you can. In almost fourteen years, I haven’t been able to move into a healthy relationship with anyone, because you’ve kept me tethered to you with an invisible rope. You were my first everything, Sammy. You were my forever, and I was going to supply you with chocolate candy for the rest of our lives. I would have done anything for you.” I stand over my sick baby while her heartbeat thunders through the machines surrounding her tiny body, and I run my hands through my hair in frustration. “I’d still do anything for you, Sammy. Anything. But I need to hear you say you’re sorry for what you did to us. I need to know I wasn’t the only one suffering this whole time.”

“I promise you, you weren’t the only one suffering, Sam. You’re still not the only one suffering. But I’m ready to cut that rope. I need to be present for Lily, and pining after a boy who broke my heart just isn’t healthy for either us.”

“A boy who broke your--”

“I’m sorry.” She cuts me off. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left. I’m sorry I ever took your hand that day at the lake. I’m sorry for everything that hurt us both. We were too young and na?ve to make the promises we did, but it’s done now, and we both need to move on.”

“Just like that, Ricci?”

She smiles, but it’s not a real smile. It’s the smile I saw her use with her folks when we were young and in love. “That’s it, Sam. It’s probably best if we don’t have direct contact anymore, so maybe have your lawyers deal with mine. Could you leave now? I’m really tired and want a nap.”

“When was the last time you slept?”

“Five minutes ago, but you woke me up.”

My eyes narrow at her snapped answers, then I swallow the lump in my throat and look down at Lily. “Can I say goodbye?”

Like I can see the cartoon heart on the outside of her body, she quivers with visible heartbreak, then silently, she nods.

I step toward my girls, and Sammy releases Lily’s hand for the first time since I walked in. She sits back in her seat to give us space, but she doesn’t leave. I lean over Lily, so close my lips practically touch her ear lobe. “Daddy loves you, Rosie. I won’t leave you, I promise.”

Sammy makes a soft choking sound, but when I look up, she turns her face and covers her mouth with her fist.

I turn back to Lily. “Remember we already talked about this. Call me anytime, I’ll always be here for you. Listen out for your song on the radio. I have someone looking to buy it already, and he’s pretty big, so your name will be out there. I love you.” I drop a kiss on her cheek and swallow down the lump in my throat as my lips pass over tape and wires. “I’ll always love you, Rosie.” I whisper softer, almost silently, “And I’ll always love your mommy. Don’t ever forget.”

I stand and turn quickly to hide the moisture that itches the backs of my eyes. I walk out of the room, but unable to go far, I rest my back against the wall in the hall as Sammy bursts out into howling, pain filled, body wracking sobs. I slide down the wall and drop my head into my hands, and as my own tears fall, I sing Sammy’s song under my breath.

This feels worse than when she walked thirteen years ago.

I got what I asked for. I got the sorry. I got to say goodbye. I got the closure.

But it doesn’t feel closed at all.