LAST CRY

Sticks and stones they don’t break my bones but I am getting tired of this journey. She has faith,a truckload of hope and a bottomless pot of strength. I cannot stand another white coat and the smell of antiseptic. Hospitals give me chills and definitely not the good kind.

We’ve been married 12 years. The ceremony was beautiful: the courting process was a roller coaster. She was eccentric, the life of the party and I was just another John Doe dragged into the world of dance and booze. We didn’t hit it off, she guzzled beer by the bottle and I sipped on my can of soda as I watched her.

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This is our 24th appointment this year,a different doctor. She wants kids,I love them too but we just can’t have our own. How do I tell her I don’t have the strength to fill a plastic cup with my swimmers anymore? Where do I start? The hope brimming in her eyes, I can’t pour gasoline over that.

If I had a chance to speak to the Creator, I’d wish her pain was taken away. Seeing her disappointment whenever her period comes breaks my heart. This woman, she is my strength but I can’t see her die a little everyday. I am ready to adore her even without our little clones. I want to tell her that continuing our family name is not that important. She comes first, she always hers and will always be.

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Yet here I am halfheartedly filling another cup with my swimmers the results are the same. I am healthy,she is healthy but the fusion always fails. The doctor says it’s our compatibility that has a problem,her egg and my swimmer are stubborn,none wants to concede and join together.

Her face falls and I hear the last piece of her heart break. She collapses into my arms, her heaving can be heard miles away. The last fire has been put out. This was her last cry, she was defeated and I felt her leaving me emotionally. I knew my love would not keep her, she needed to hold hers in those arms I found comfort in.

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The lawyer called a week later, she didn’t want a share in our properties, her car was enough and the apartment we rented out as a bed and breakfast. She would be okay, she called and assured me.

‘I love you. I never at one point faked it. I still love you but I need my own. You’ll meet someone and she’ll birth you kids with that smile I fell in love with. Bye,I will always love you.’

My life was blurry for a few months. It was morning then noon and the night caught me by surprise each time. I lost it, I lost her. She is my love, embedded in every room. A lip gloss here, an earring there and the occasional top she left behind. She sends pictures, she is six months pregnant. Her skin is glowing, her laugh lines prominent. She has what she wanted, why can’t I be happy for her?

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©Twisted Empress 2020