Chapter 14
This Year
C HLOE TA KES ANOTHER brEATH, preparing herself to reveal her friend’s painful secret. “Sloane had a miscarriage, Marianne. She’s telling the truth when she says she’s jealous of your life.”
Marianne spins around and looks at Sloane, whose eyes haven’t left the floor.
“That’s why Chloe agreed to come on this trip,” Sloane admits. “I told her I needed her after the last miscarriage.”
Chloe looks over to see Wyatt and Luke’s reaction. She had never told either of them what Sloane said to convince her to come on the trip. And by the surprise on their faces, it seems as if Alden never mentioned this news to them either.
Chloe pauses, Sloane’s words echoing. “Wait. What do you mean last miscarriage ?”
Alden wraps his arms around his wife. “You should tell them everything,” he whispers.
Sloane walks over to the window, the entire room waiting for her to speak. “I haven’t had one miscarriage,” Sloane says. “I’ve had two.”
Marianne gasps and Chloe instinctively moves closer, wanting to wrap her arms around her friend, but Sloane takes two steps back, seemingly needing space as she continues speaking.
“I’ve had two miscarriages,” Sloane repeats. “Four rounds of IVF. And we’re the lucky ones because we have enough money for all of these incredibly expensive procedures.”
“How long has this been going on?” Chloe asks softly.
“Two years. We started trying after the wedding,” Sloane replies in a monotone. She starts pacing, her voice pitching upward as she speaks. “The first miscarriage was the hardest. All those doctors. And the hospital. And lawyers. A room full of people making sure everything that’s being done is legal, checking to make sure that they aren’t violating a law while I’m lying in a bed, blood soaking the sheets.”
Sloane slumps onto the couch and they all gather around, hanging on her every word. Except Alden. Alden is staring out the window, and Chloe sees his eyes welling with tears.
There are tears streaming down Sloane’s face, but she doesn’t seem to notice. After a deep breath, her voice shakes as she continues. “All of those injections and scraping and the crinkles of paper and the technical terms they use instead of saying the baby is gone .”
Chloe notices that none of the friends are asking questions. They are all shocked by the news they are receiving, Sloane relaying this painful memory. Personal pain that her closest friends were completely unaware of.
Alden joins Sloane on the couch. His hands weave into her hair as they stare at each other.
“It hasn’t been easy,” Alden understates. “But we have each other.”
“Sloane. Why didn’t you say anything?” Marianne asks.
Sloane straightens, her lips pulled tight as she answers. “Because it’s private. It’s between Alden and me. We all share so much. We know too much about each other.” Sloane looks at Chloe, and she understands exactly what she means.
Chloe often wondered if her relationship with Luke had been a little more private, would it have made a difference? Or was it better to share in the challenges and joys of a relationship with your best friends? Chloe can’t imagine the isolation of keeping pain like Sloane and Alden’s inside.
Sloane continues. “Getting pregnant was going to be just for us. And then when I couldn’t get pregnant, I didn’t want to advertise my failure.”
“It’s not a failure,” Alden says firmly.
Sloane shakes her head. “Marianne got pregnant the first month. And looked like a goddess her entire pregnancy. And the baby practically fell out. I’m a giant flaw in comparison.”
“But Sloane, it’s not a competition,” Marianne tries to say as gently as possible.
“The only people who say that are the winners,” Sloane quickly replies.
“I did not look like a goddess my entire pregnancy. I had back-ne.” Marianne makes this comment in earnest. As if it would make Sloane feel better that Marianne experienced this minor, common inconvenience during an otherwise uneventful pregnancy.
Sloane is the first to laugh, and it gives everyone else permission to join.
It’s a brief break in an otherwise heavy conversation, but Chloe knows that it’s only temporary. There are so many questions she wants to ask. So much guilt she feels for being absent when her friend needed support.
Chloe joins Sloane and Alden on the couch. “You shouldn’t have gone through that alone.”
“You wanted to be alone,” Sloane retorts. “You and Luke had just ended your nine-year relationship and you didn’t want any of us around.”
“Sloane, you can’t even compare a breakup to this,” Chloe says.
“Besides, Chloe wasn’t really alone. She had Wyatt, right?” It’s the first thing Luke has said, and Chloe hears a tenseness in his voice.
Chloe wants to let it go, but Marianne jumps in, quickly dismissing Luke. “Wyatt lives in DC. It would be ridiculous if they didn’t see each other.” Marianne walks toward the couch and sits on the coffee table, facing her friends.
“Both of you should have talked to us more,” Marianne says, waving a finger back and forth between Chloe and Sloane. “Both of you need to lean on us. There shouldn’t be so many secrets between friends.”
“In my defense,” Sloane says, “I did tell Chloe. That’s why she agreed to come on this trip.”
Chloe tilts her head. “You told me you had one miscarriage and you needed your best friends.”
“So that’s why you’re here?” Luke asks. “Because Sloane guilted you into being here.”
Chloe stares at Luke, frustrated by his comment. “Yes, because when I had only the tiniest window into what she was going through, it was enough to wake me up to my selfishness.”
“That’s all it took,” Luke says.
Chloe shakes her head. “Another time, Luke. This is about Sloane and Alden.”
“You’re right,” Luke agrees. He turns toward Sloane and Alden and says, “I’m sorry.” But it sounds like an obligation rather than an apology.
“A lot of couples go through the same thing,” Alden says. “Our doctor said one client did six rounds of IVF and then had twins.” There’s hope in Alden’s voice that’s missing from his face.
“So that’s your plan? To do another round?” Luke asks. None of them have any idea how IVF works, but they want to be as supportive as possible. Because they all know that Sloane and Alden have always wanted children, and their hearts are breaking at hearing the news of their losses.
Sloane nods. “We did another round last week. I went to the doctor’s office this morning.”
Alden chimes in. “The blood test takes a few hours. The doctor should call us this afternoon with the results.”
“It’s going to work this time,” Sloane says, plastering a smile on her face. “I’m pregnant. I know I am.”
No one speaks, hoping there’s truth behind Sloane’s conviction.
Sloane turns toward Marianne. “The hormones are terrible. I don’t feel like myself. I’m sorry.” Marianne starts to shake her head, but Sloane continues. “I haven’t been kind. I haven’t been supportive. I owe you an apology.”
“I wouldn’t have pushed if I’d known what was going on,” Marianne blurts. “I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about skipping Easter.”
Sloane shrugs. “You didn’t know. I should have been honest.”
The phone rings and every drop of oxygen in the room seems to evaporate.
Sloane looks at her phone. “It’s the doctor’s office.”
“Do you want us to go?” Chloe asks.
Sloane shakes her head. “You know everything now. There’s no point in hiding the news.”
Sloane answers the phone, greeting the doctor’s office cheerfully. She’s a master at control, especially of her own emotions.
“Thank you for calling,” she says. “I understand,” she repeats twice. “Yes, we’ll be in touch.” Sloane ends the call with the same tone as she began it. No one in the room knows whether it is good news or bad news because Sloane’s face is unreadable.
Sloane turns toward Alden and subtly shakes her head. “This round didn’t work. I’m not pregnant.”
Alden reaches for her hand, but Sloane stands up and goes to the kitchen, grabbing a dish towel and wiping the counters. She refolds and hangs it over the oven door handle, taking a deep breath.
“I need a moment.” Her voice is even as she walks upstairs, five pairs of eyes glued to her movement.
“Should I follow her?” Chloe asks Alden.
He shakes his head. “No. She needs space when she gets this kind of news.”
“How is she handling this? How are you handling this?” Wyatt asks.
“Honestly, it’s terrible.” Alden runs his hands through his hair and stares at the floor. “I’m worried about Sloane. She pretends she’s okay, especially this week around all of you guys. But she’s not.”
“And you?” Wyatt asks again.
“Everything in our lives revolves around getting pregnant. I want a kid, but I had no idea it would be this hard.” Alden stares at the ceiling. “It’s hard feeling helpless when you’re watching someone you love fall apart.”
“Maybe we should give you guys some space?” Chloe suggests. “We can get a hotel room.”
Alden shakes his head. “She needs you guys. I need you. It’s been hard keeping this to ourselves. I would have told you guys from the beginning, but Sloane never wants to share the bad stuff in her life.”
“How bad has it been?” Wyatt asks, because they all know that Alden will give them the real answer.
“After the last miscarriage, Sloane stayed in bed for a week. She hasn’t really been the same since then. She insisted we try again, fixated on routines that she read about in the online support groups. She puts so much pressure on herself, as if eating pineapple and wearing a certain type of socks is going to make the difference between getting pregnant and not.” Alden pauses before continuing. “I miss my wife.”
All of a sudden, they hear loud noises coming from upstairs. It sounds like something has fallen, and then they hear the same sound again and again, followed by broken glass.
“What’s that?” Marianne asks.
“Go check on Sloane,” Wyatt quickly adds.
Alden leaps up, taking the stairs two at a time. Everyone follows, the crashing sounds increasing. The hairs on Chloe’s arms stand up as they run down the hallway.
Alden stops in front of the nursery.
The door has been closed all week. Other than the peek inside during her initial tour, Chloe doesn’t think anyone else has seen the space. They’ve all been too busy with other drama to snoop behind closed doors in their friends’ massive house.
Alden pauses and then rushes inside. When everyone gathers in the doorway, they see his arms wrapped around Sloane as she sobs.
It’s a mess. Sloane has wrecked the space. Tiny clothes that were neatly hung in the closet have been pulled off their hangers. The multicolored bookcase has been turned over, picture books ripped and thrown on the floor. The contents of the changing table have been dumped, the neatly arranged baskets holding diapers now strewn across the room. Framed photos of Gulf birds are broken, shards of glass lodged in the plush carpet.
Sloane screams, the high pitch reflecting her pain.
She walks over to the beautiful sconce flanking the crib and pulls it out of the wall. Wires dangle as she continues pulling, all of her hurt and anger and despair manifesting in the utter destruction of her surroundings.
Alden reaches out and grabs her hands, pinning them to her side. He rocks her, trying to soothe his wife’s pain as his eyes reflect his own fear.
Sloane takes a deep breath, looks up at her husband, and says, “Call the doctor. Schedule the next round.”
Alden shakes his head. “Absolutely not. We need a break. We can’t go through this again.”
“Yes, we can,” Sloane says in between ragged breaths.
“No,” Alden repeats.
Sloane tries to smooth her frazzled hair. “Next time will work.” There’s a manic sound to her voice that scares Chloe.
“You just ripped a light out of the wall.” Alden points across the room. “The nursery you spent a year designing is a mess. And I understand,” Alden says, softening. “What we’ve been through is terrible. You need time. We need time, Sloane.”
“I’m fine,” Sloane lies.
“No, you aren’t,” Alden argues.
Sloane’s chin quivers because she must know Alden is right. Everyone in the room knows Alden is right. And yet Sloane, the strongest-willed person Chloe has ever met, stares at her husband and says, “You can take all the time you need. But I’m doing another round as soon as I’m cleared by the doctor. I’ll call to book the appointment.”
“No.” Alden stands immobile. It may be the only time he’s so forcefully denied Sloane.
“I’m going downstairs,” Sloane states. “I’ll clean this up later. We have dinner reservations tonight and I want to rest a bit before.”
Chloe looks around. They are shocked and confused. And all of Alden’s concerns about Sloane now seem vastly understated. Because a person who is ripping electrical fixtures out of the wall one moment and discussing dinner plans the next is clearly teetering on unstable ground. And not even Sloane’s stoic exterior can mask this fragility.
Sloane ushers everyone out of the room and closes the door, as if she can hide what happened with an oak panel and some hinges.
“You can’t keep pretending,” Alden says. “You’re not okay.”
“I’m not pretending. I got upset and now I’m moving forward. You need to do the same.”
“Enough!” Alden shouts. “Enough with the shots and enough with the medicines that steal your personality. I’ve watched you slip further and further away and I cannot do it anymore.”
“You don’t have to do anything,” Sloane yells. “I’m the one this affects. Not you.”
Alden shakes his head, and Chloe can see the exhaustion in his eyes. They should leave, give Sloane and Alden the space they need to grieve and process and regroup. But instead they all stand immobile, spectators intertwined in each other’s most private moments.
“Is that really what you think?” Alden asks Sloane.
She nods.
Alden swipes his hand over his face. “I need to go for a walk,” he says. And they all let him leave, understanding that it’s impossible to stay when the person you love pushes you this far away.