Arsen: a broken love story - Asher Mia - Страница 11
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- 11/85
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“Oh my God.”
I stare at the stick with the plus sign once more. Can this be happening again? Can this be true?
“Oh my God.”
My vision starts to blur as I keep staring at the pregnancy test in my trembling hands. Hope and fear wrestle against each other to be the strongest and loudest emotion growing inside my chest. Hope wins.
It always does.
After carefully putting the pregnancy test on the sink, my hands, shaking now, automatically go to my flat stomach. There is life growing inside of me once more. I don’t want to feel hope; I don’t want my mind to inevitably wander to our attic where there are pink and blue things still wrapped in gift boxes, unopened. I don’t want to start wishing for things that may never happen. Gosh, but it is so easy to.
Feeling the tears rolling down my cheeks, I stick my tongue out to taste them, savor each and every single one of them. They are happy tears for once, and they taste so sweet on my tongue. Moving away from the porcelain tub, I run out of the bathroom in search of Ben.
As I make my way to Ben’s office, I notice how bright the corridors look this morning. The rays of sun hit the windowpanes at just the right angle that as I’m walking by, rainbows of color are reflected on my skin. Funny, it has been a long time since I’ve noticed how pretty our home is. There are so many pictures of Ben and me, eleven years’ worth of a life together to be exact, scattered throughout the walls. Hard to believe time has flown by this fast.
Sometimes, when passing by, I notice how young and happy we looked, so in love. Our smiles remind me of how promising we thought our life together would be. The look in the eyes of that young girl reminds me of a time when looking at Ben made me believe that the answers to life’s secrets could be found within him. That he was my answer to everything. Sadly, I’ve come to discover that such a notion is not only false but impossible. No one has all the answers to solve the big puzzle that life is, and it is even less likely that another person can offer them to you.
The girl in those pictures doesn’t look like she is plagued by uncertainty, though. If anything, the woman and the man posing in the pictures look like they believe everything is possible and within reach. I haven’t seen those feelings when I look at my reflection in the mirror for a very long time.
Nearing his office, closing in the physical distance between us, a thought is planting its thick roots in my head and heart, spreading hope within me. Call it wishful thinking, but I hope that the small life inside of me is able to bridge the emotional space growing between us. An emotional gap so wide, that lately it feels almost insurmountable to close.
It is the source of our growing distance after all.
Well, mine mostly.
I find a frowning Ben when I walk in his office. One of the stems of his glasses is in his mouth while he looks down at the newspaper sitting on his desk in front of him. His dark, wavy hair looks messy, probably from pulling at it while lost in thought. Wearing an old gray t-shirt with the word Columbia written across his chest and faded jeans, he looks just as big and handsome as the day I met him. The years haven’t done anything to alter his starting quarterback body; if anything, he looks more masculine and seasoned with age.
I hope our baby has his dark looks and not my boring blonde ones.
When he hears me enter his office, the frown disappears immediately and
a gorgeous smile appears, showing his perfect white teeth. He reminds me of a pirate sometimes when he smiles at me that way, with his tanned skin, dark hair, and glimmer in his eyes.
As soon as he notices the tears on my face, he drops his glasses on the desk, stands up from his leather chair and makes his way towards me. His hands go to my shoulders.
“Cathy, baby, what’s the matter? Why are you crying?”
Looking up, the tears that were slowly flowing before begin to blur my vision as they fall in a torrent so fast and so strong that I can’t do anything but feel them inundate my face as they overflow my eyes. I can’t do anything but move between his arms and wrap him in a hug, tight and fierce. Yes. There is hope for us, after all. Our love is enough.
It is enough.
Ben wraps his arms around me, returning my embrace just as strongly and intensely, lowers his face close to mine and whispers, “Babe, talk to me. You’re scaring me. What’s the matter? Tell me so I can fix it. Shit, Babe…please.”
I let go of his body, lifting my hands to cradle his face in between them. He truly looks concerned. Fear is written in the way he seems to be clenching his teeth, emphasizing how strong his jaw is. The frown that had disappeared when he heard me coming in is back, and he looks as if he is scowling. The half angry and half worried expression on his face makes a stupid watery giggle escape my mouth. The situation is growing more comical by the minute.
“Baby…no.” Reaching out to smooth the temples of his lovely face with my fingers, I erase the scowl away. “No, baby. Nothing is the matter. Actually, everything is…oh my God. Ben, baby, I’m pregnant again.”
Ben’s body becomes statue-still. The arms that are wrapped so tightly around my waist go slack. He is looking at me as if I am a ghost, not blinking and barely breathing, he seems to be in a state of shock. I’m about to shake him, to make him react, when I see the first glimmer of tears flood his dark eyes.
He lets go of my waist and lowers his large body to kneel in front of me. Looking down at his dark head, I watch him as he lifts my light cashmere sweater, exposing my flat stomach to him, and gently and carefully leans over to softly place a tender kiss on the same spot where three babies have grown and died.
This poignant moment, so full of love and hope, feels like a new beginning.
A second chance for us.
Clearing his throat, Ben comes out of his shock. “Are you sure, Cathy?”
Nodding because that is all I can do, I hear Ben say, “Oh, babe. Really?” Nodding again as he looks up at me, he mumbles, “Shit…’Kay. We need to call Dr. Pajaree first thing tomorrow. Get you an appointment with her as early as possible. I don’t care if she is treating the President of the United States, she will make time to fit you in. You need to call Amy, too. She will understand if you can’t make it to work...fuck. Babe, shh. Don’t cry anymore. We will do whatever it takes to make it work.”
“I’m so afraid, Ben. I want this baby so bad…”
I’m crying so hard that I can barely make out Ben’s features as I feel his mouth whispering kisses all over my body. Moving away from his embrace, I kneel in front of him, and we stare at each other. As Ben watches me intensely his eyes sparkling with unshed tears, I see all the love he feels for me written in his face. I hope he can see the love I feel for him reflected in my eyes as well.
I love him so very much that it hurts.
Thickly, Ben whispers, “Come here. It will be okay, babe. We will be okay whatever happens…”
Out of nowhere, as he is bringing our bodies in an all-encompassing embrace, an image of blue eyes crosses my mind, but I immediately bury it in the deepest confines of my guilty conscience. For the very brief moment that Arsen sabotages my mind, I am shocked to realize that not a day has gone by since I met him two weeks ago where I haven’t thought of him. But like I’ve done every time the thought of him enters my mind, I pretend that Arsen and what happened between us never occurred. I go back to pretending that he didn’t make me feel things I haven’t felt in a long time; that he didn’t make my body hum with something as temptingly delicious as it was forbidden, bringing it to life. No. He has no right to intrude in my thoughts right now.
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