Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Tori
Another week passes with no letter, no phone call, and my anxiety levels are through the roof.
An unsettling feeling has burrowed into my core, and no matter what I do, I can’t shift it.
Something feels wrong, but I can’t pinpoint what.
All I can do is keep going, keep putting one foot in front of the other, and keep busy.
I have my first OBGYN appointment this week.
I think I am almost eight weeks along. I’m having an ultrasound, and I can’t wait to see my little dot on the screen; it will, at the very least, take some of this heaviness away when I am reassured everything is hopefully progressing as it should.
I know Trent will call or write when he can, but the silence is unnerving.
It’s so hard navigating such a big life change without the person you want to share it all with.
I wanted to tell him over the phone, to hear the shock, elation, fear in his voice when I utter the words ‘I’m pregnant’.
But I knew I couldn’t keep it in any longer, so I just hope he gets to read the letter I sent soon and he calls.
I kick off my work heels, take off my white blouse, and unzip my pencil skirt that is now getting a little tight around the waist. Opening my dresser, I search for my favorite pair of gray cotton pajamas. Tonight, I need calm and comfort.
Glancing at the clock, I note it’s almost 8pm.
I decide on a herbal tea to drink as I watch this week’s episode of Sex and the City, and I light the gas stove, fill the kettle, and place it on the stove.
I reach for two mugs out of habit and slowly place the second one back; the one that I want to make for Trent.
I miss him. I miss hearing his voice, the way he made me laugh just by doing the silliest things.
I miss waking up to a text message, and I miss the goodnight phone calls.
The past month has made me realize I am done with our back and forth, carefree, let’s just have fun, attitude with our relationship, and I think he felt it too.
When he comes back home, that’s it. I’m all in.
I’m telling him I love him, and I want us to be a proper family. That he’s mine and I am his. Always.
A knock on my apartment door disturbs my thoughts, and immediately, my internal alarm bells start ringing.
The knocking happens again; louder this time.
I hesitantly step toward the door, my heart thundering so loud, it’s the only thing I hear.
I hold my breath as I squint through the peephole, praying it’s a Girl Scout selling cookies or a pizza delivery guy who got the wrong apartment, but when I see my brother, Harry, dressed in dark clothing, his head hanging low, I open the door with shaky hands.
I don’t give him a second to speak, lunging toward him, wrapping my arms around his broad frame so tightly I think I could leave bruises.
When he hugs me back with a tightness that sends my nerves into overdrive, I know something is very wrong.
I lean back, cupping his face with trembling hands, and the dimness in his eyes and the dark circles surrounding them confirm my biggest fear: something happened.
I step back, relaxing the hold I have on him, and my body and my mind take over. “Do you want some tea?” I turn on my heel and head for my kitchen. With every step I take, my vision blurs, my breathing becoming erratic.
I reach inside the cupboard for another mug and place the tea bag inside.
“Herbal or ordinary?” I ask.
No, no, everything’s fine. He’s just been sent home early. Everything’s fine, I say on repeat to myself.
“Tori,” my brother’s broken voice says, “I need to—”
I cut him off. “I’m having peppermint. Does that work for you?” My words are manic. I grip the countertop to steady my swaying body. I clamp my eyes shut and try to take in a breath, but I can’t. Everything feels wrong. I know why he’s here, but my mind won’t let me hear it.
“Tori, something happened, and—”
“If you don’t want peppermint, I can make you coffee. I don’t have milk. It’s been making me sick, but I can go to the store. Yes, I’ll go to the store. Let me get my purse.” I push past him, but he takes hold of my wrist.
“Tori, please,” he begs, and still, I can’t look at him. I shrug him off, frantically searching for my purse.
“I won’t be long. You get comfy, and I’ll be back with your milk.” My words come out so fast and shaky, I don’t sound like myself.
“Victoria. Stop,” my brother roars. My head snaps up, and I freeze. Tears roll down my brother’s usually glowing, bright face. Now all I see is pain and darkness etched into his expression.
I swallow down the golf ball-sized lump wedged in my throat and whisper the words,
“Is it Noah?” He shakes his head.
“Jack? Brad?” I ask, knowing it’s pointless.
“No, Tor, it’s not them,” he chokes out.
I shake my head. My brother’s unspoken words hit me like a freight train.
No, it can’t be.
Ice slides through my veins as his words ring in my ears. I want to scream, I want to tell him he’s wrong, that they’ve made a mistake, but the words die on my tongue.
“I’m so sorry, Tor,” Harry sobs. “They tried to save him. We…” His voice sounds so far away that it’s hard to make out everything he’s saying.
I shake my head as my wide eyes focus on Harry’s, my body numb. This isn’t real. We are having a baby; he’s coming home. The room spins, and my trembling hands reach out to steady myself against the wall as I become hungry for air.
“No,” I whisper. That's all I can manage. My stomach lurches, and I cover my mouth to stop the bile that’s worked its way up my throat from exiting my body.
“Trent died, Tor. I’m so sorry.” He takes a step toward me, and I step back, my head shaking rapidly.
“No, no, no, you’re wrong. You got it wrong,” I repeat. He reaches out to hold me, and my hands fly up. “No,” I bellow. “Tell me you’re wrong,” I demand as wetness coats my cheeks.
“I wish I could,” he cries.
“Tell me you’re wrong,” I beg, my whole body convulsing uncontrollably. It feels like a bucket of ice has been dumped on me, and when my back finally hits the wall, my brother stands in front of me and repeats the words.
“Trent died, Tori. I’m so sorry.”
An ear-piercing whistle echoes from the kitchen, and something that sounds like a blood-curdling scream. The kind you hear on TV when someone loses a loved one. When my knees hit something hard and arms wrap around my frame, I realize the screams are coming from me.
How can this be real? How can he be gone? I didn’t get to tell him I loved him, and I didn’t get to tell him he was going to be a daddy.
No, this can’t be real. In a minute, I’m going to wake up, and this will all be a terrible dream.
Yes, I just need to wake up from this nightmare, and this won’t be real.
Come on, Tor, wake up. Just wake up.