Page 26 of Infinite
Clara expels a breath through her nose and watches me. “I can see that. So, you’re ranging from the stages of isolation and anger?”
“Fuck all of you, Clara. You think I want this? I got Quinn back from the clutches of his insane friend to have to tell him I lost our child. So, am I angry? You’re damn right I am. Am I isolating myself? Sure. What the hell is the point to any of this? What good does talking do? Does it bring back my baby? Does it make me whole again? Nope. So, I don’t want to talk to Sarina or any other doctor who is going to tell me how what I’m going through is normal. Nothing is normal. I’m fucking done.”
Clara’s eyes are wide, but there’s also a bit of arrogance there. She played me, and I strolled right into it. “I think you’re definitely in the anger stage, my friend. Good thing I’ve dealt with shit much scarier than you or that little tirademighthave made me cry.”
I shake my head and look away. I shouldn’t have snapped at her. She’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry. I’m overtired, and I’m—it’s been a lot.”
Clara nods. “It has been, that’s why I think it would be good to get some help.”
“I appreciate it, Clara. I need to find a new normal without anyone else trying to analyze my feelings. I’ll get there, but it’s going to take more than two weeks to get over losing her.”
“Her?”
My chest grows tight because Clara would know. She would’ve had to document whether the baby was a boy or a girl.
“I meant, the child.”
“Do you need answers?” Her tone is careful and my heart lurches.
Do I? Can I handle it? What would it change? In my mind, I am allowed the disillusions of what she was. I’m allowed to live the lie I’ve created to protect myself in my misery. Knowing changes nothing and will only make the baby real. I would want to name her, give her a permanent place in this world. Even though she never drew a breath, she was ours.
“No. No, I’d rather not know. I don’t ever want to think about this. I don’t want to talk to anyone. I have no plans to delve into my damn emotions because I have none, so please, let me go and grieve the way I need to.”
Clara is a good friend who I hope understands not to push me on this. It’s not that I’m opposed to therapy, but I’m too deep in my own emotions to even consider talking about them. How do you make someone who has spent their entire adult life creating babies accept that they’re not able to do it for themselves? You can’t. No one can help me through it.
Sarina is a great therapist, and I’ve seen her help many people in our facility, but I won’t be one of them.
Once I’m on my own, I’ll find a quiet existence in a lab somewhere where I don’t have to see people or deal with anything but science.
Science is facts.
Science has definites and solutions.
“Why don’t you come back to work in two weeks? You can stay off your feet, go through some of the proposals, and catch up. I know you were going part-time, but I think it could be good for you to come back here.”
I look at my colleague and friend, knowing that she’s trying to help or give me something to try for. The thing is, I can’t ever do this again. I can’t stare at an embryo, knowing I’m going to give another woman something so precious that I almost had. I just . . . can’t.
“I’m resigning completely.”
“What?” There’s a mix of sadness and apprehension in her voice. “Ashton, please don’t make a decision like that when you’re grieving.”
“I’m going to be grieving for a long time, Clara. I know what I’m saying.”
“And what’s going to happen later? What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
She shakes her head as her warm brown eyes fill with compassion. “You have every right to take some time off if that’s what you need, but you have always loved your job.”
“I did.”
I loved everything about it. It was wonderful knowing that I could be a link in the chain leading toward someone’s happiness. My heart would soar when we’d hear of a birth. There was beauty there.
Now, it’s tainted.
Maybe I’m being dramatic, but I know I can’t stand there and manipulate an egg. I can’t watch it grow to an embryo and then see it go into another woman who has all her parts. Not to mention having to watch some of them lose a child and remember my own loss all over again. I’m done.
There’s no one that could blame me for feeling this way.
