Coming Down Before Carraba's: The Place I Can Never Be
The crimson blood always seems to mock me. Nausea rose in my throat as I remembered each time I was left with only stains of blood, clear reminders of the emptiness of dreams. Each time I cursed this broken body incapable, it seemed, of giving, only skilled in letting go. Sometimes I wish I could let go of this part of me, this place inside that longed to be filled no matter the cost. But I'd do anything for Patrick, for the chance of satisfying that hunger in his eyes.
As I grabbed the small box, I didn't let myself hope that this time would be different. I wanted to crush my dreams completely once again so I could move on, so I could focus more fully on tomorrow's presentation. This was a big account, I couldn't afford to be distracted by unfulfilled longings during my seduction of Mr. March, as I reeling him in with promises of the service I would personally give Thomas and March, Inc. in the weeks ahead.
Tomorrow I had to be that professional mix of knowledgeable and worldly-wise, call girl and constructor of dream castles. They had to believe that my firm would run a campaign that would make their drink as well-known as Pepsi.
Patrick always says my work sounds like sexual conquests. I protest but in my ruthless, professional heart, I have to admit, he is right. Was that what was driving us apart? Did I use up all my seductive skills earning new accounts instead of keeping our marriage fresh and exciting?
Waiting for two minutes to pass is tedious. I stride back and forth, reiterating my main points for tomorrow.
Why was I taking this test? Why did I try anymore? Perhaps my career was meant to be my life. Perhaps ... I looked down and realized it was time to check.
I strode to bathroom, hardening my heart to what I would see. It's always the same result, why did I bother taking these tests?
I picked it up, this dripping piece of plastic with the power to crush my heart. Two lines. Of course. What was I thinking?
I tossed it in the plastic can.
Wait a minute? Two lines?!
I grabbed the directions as the life I thought I had spun to pieces. I had exited my childless life and wasn’t sure what I would find here, on the other side.
Should I tell him? I'd checked the test four times through that long night and the result never faded. It was definitely two lines. But, after two years of trying to create a baby of our own, it just didn't seem right to drop a bomb like this on the phone.
I snuggled deeper under the hotel bedspread, closing my eyes. As I did with everything in life, I thought, "What do I want?" I’m a firm believer that if you don’t know what you want, you will never get it. Visions of our favorite Italian place formed in my mind's eye. That's it! That's the place I want to be. I want to watch Patrick open a gift, a special little gift from me. I want to see how amazed he is when he finds a pair of baby shoes inside. Will he hug me? Will he cry? This will be so perfect, the perfect story to tell our child someday. "This is how I told your Dad you were coming ...."
"Hey, Patrick. It's me. My flight comes in at 4 pm, American Airlines flight 1214, OK?" I try to sound nonchalant. Nothing can ruin this surprise.
"Abby Girl! I can't wait to see you."
I sigh. MOST people call me "Gail" and at 35, I am far from a girl. The word Girl makes me think of pigtails and pinafores. I am a woman! But that is Patrick and somehow, his "Abby Girl" just melts my tension away.
"I've missed you too. Hey, how about dinner tonight? At Carraba's?" I hold my breath. He has to say, "Yes." That is the perfect place to tell him. I pat my brief case full of professional papers ... and a gaily wrapped package of baby shoes. I didn't know they made shoes that small!
"Sure, wherever you want. And then dessert at home, eh?"
I feel a spark. Hearing him use that tone and with a baby on the way, maybe we would, maybe this distance I have felt will become just a memory.
"As long as you buy some whipped cream. I'm hungry tonight." My heart soars on the wings of his laughter. It's all working out so perfect. My life will follow my plan after all.
"Sure, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, long as I get the cherry. See you at four!"
I'm smiling, snapping my phone shut as I stand in line for my seat. Tonight should be memorable and special, even better than this morning when Mr. Marsh shook my hand. "We will definitely sign with your firm today." He looked in my eyes meaningfully but, hey, I can handle that. Wasn't the first time a client thought my seductive act was on a physical as well as professional level. It wasn't Mr. Marsh I wanted to spray whipped cream on.
I found my seat by the window, over a wing. Two hours, that's all it would take until I saw Patrick again. I couldn’t wait to tell him we were finally having a baby. I still could hardly believe it. Me? Pregnant? Not bloody likely! At least that's what it always was in the past. But now, my crimson blood pumps through the tiny veins of another. Could it be?
I must have dozed off. Too many times checking and then re-checking that pregnancy test last night made me tired. I startle awake to the sound of the loudspeaker, "We’re encountering some technical problems but be assured we will do everything we can to complete your trip safely."
I look out my window and see flames, flames?! Flames dancing on the wing of our plane. I cover my flat belly with my hand. Now? Today? I see Patrick's face, the booth we always sit in, the salads topped with parmesan ...
The plane lurches, then drops suddenly. My heart is beating faster. I feel like I will throw up but I can hardly breathe. This can’t be happening! I've read about plane crashes but, this is me, my day, my life. In my mind I see Patrick. This can't happen today! He doesn't even know about the baby yet, his baby. He has to at least know he could have been a father!
"Attention: The ride will be turbulent but we're doing our best. Please hang on."
I grip the armrests tightly. I have to calm down. They can fix this right? Come on, think, think ... baby, taking care of baby. Maybe we'll finally start house-hunting. We always said the apartment was fine for the two of us but once we had kids ... it's like we couldn't move on without that last step. A home. A window to stand at and wave good bye to Daddy. My Patrick is going to be a Daddy!
The plane starts to drop. No leveling off. I let go of one armrest, hand over my flat stomach. The baby. Please! I have to make it! My little one never had a chance ... Please!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What did Patrick think of the phone call? How did he spend his time waiting for my flight?
Check out his story:
http://java-fiend.livejournal.com/312337.html#cutid1
As I grabbed the small box, I didn't let myself hope that this time would be different. I wanted to crush my dreams completely once again so I could move on, so I could focus more fully on tomorrow's presentation. This was a big account, I couldn't afford to be distracted by unfulfilled longings during my seduction of Mr. March, as I reeling him in with promises of the service I would personally give Thomas and March, Inc. in the weeks ahead.
Tomorrow I had to be that professional mix of knowledgeable and worldly-wise, call girl and constructor of dream castles. They had to believe that my firm would run a campaign that would make their drink as well-known as Pepsi.
Patrick always says my work sounds like sexual conquests. I protest but in my ruthless, professional heart, I have to admit, he is right. Was that what was driving us apart? Did I use up all my seductive skills earning new accounts instead of keeping our marriage fresh and exciting?
Waiting for two minutes to pass is tedious. I stride back and forth, reiterating my main points for tomorrow.
Why was I taking this test? Why did I try anymore? Perhaps my career was meant to be my life. Perhaps ... I looked down and realized it was time to check.
I strode to bathroom, hardening my heart to what I would see. It's always the same result, why did I bother taking these tests?
I picked it up, this dripping piece of plastic with the power to crush my heart. Two lines. Of course. What was I thinking?
I tossed it in the plastic can.
Wait a minute? Two lines?!
I grabbed the directions as the life I thought I had spun to pieces. I had exited my childless life and wasn’t sure what I would find here, on the other side.
Should I tell him? I'd checked the test four times through that long night and the result never faded. It was definitely two lines. But, after two years of trying to create a baby of our own, it just didn't seem right to drop a bomb like this on the phone.
I snuggled deeper under the hotel bedspread, closing my eyes. As I did with everything in life, I thought, "What do I want?" I’m a firm believer that if you don’t know what you want, you will never get it. Visions of our favorite Italian place formed in my mind's eye. That's it! That's the place I want to be. I want to watch Patrick open a gift, a special little gift from me. I want to see how amazed he is when he finds a pair of baby shoes inside. Will he hug me? Will he cry? This will be so perfect, the perfect story to tell our child someday. "This is how I told your Dad you were coming ...."
"Hey, Patrick. It's me. My flight comes in at 4 pm, American Airlines flight 1214, OK?" I try to sound nonchalant. Nothing can ruin this surprise.
"Abby Girl! I can't wait to see you."
I sigh. MOST people call me "Gail" and at 35, I am far from a girl. The word Girl makes me think of pigtails and pinafores. I am a woman! But that is Patrick and somehow, his "Abby Girl" just melts my tension away.
"I've missed you too. Hey, how about dinner tonight? At Carraba's?" I hold my breath. He has to say, "Yes." That is the perfect place to tell him. I pat my brief case full of professional papers ... and a gaily wrapped package of baby shoes. I didn't know they made shoes that small!
"Sure, wherever you want. And then dessert at home, eh?"
I feel a spark. Hearing him use that tone and with a baby on the way, maybe we would, maybe this distance I have felt will become just a memory.
"As long as you buy some whipped cream. I'm hungry tonight." My heart soars on the wings of his laughter. It's all working out so perfect. My life will follow my plan after all.
"Sure, whipped cream, chocolate sauce, long as I get the cherry. See you at four!"
I'm smiling, snapping my phone shut as I stand in line for my seat. Tonight should be memorable and special, even better than this morning when Mr. Marsh shook my hand. "We will definitely sign with your firm today." He looked in my eyes meaningfully but, hey, I can handle that. Wasn't the first time a client thought my seductive act was on a physical as well as professional level. It wasn't Mr. Marsh I wanted to spray whipped cream on.
I found my seat by the window, over a wing. Two hours, that's all it would take until I saw Patrick again. I couldn’t wait to tell him we were finally having a baby. I still could hardly believe it. Me? Pregnant? Not bloody likely! At least that's what it always was in the past. But now, my crimson blood pumps through the tiny veins of another. Could it be?
I must have dozed off. Too many times checking and then re-checking that pregnancy test last night made me tired. I startle awake to the sound of the loudspeaker, "We’re encountering some technical problems but be assured we will do everything we can to complete your trip safely."
I look out my window and see flames, flames?! Flames dancing on the wing of our plane. I cover my flat belly with my hand. Now? Today? I see Patrick's face, the booth we always sit in, the salads topped with parmesan ...
The plane lurches, then drops suddenly. My heart is beating faster. I feel like I will throw up but I can hardly breathe. This can’t be happening! I've read about plane crashes but, this is me, my day, my life. In my mind I see Patrick. This can't happen today! He doesn't even know about the baby yet, his baby. He has to at least know he could have been a father!
"Attention: The ride will be turbulent but we're doing our best. Please hang on."
I grip the armrests tightly. I have to calm down. They can fix this right? Come on, think, think ... baby, taking care of baby. Maybe we'll finally start house-hunting. We always said the apartment was fine for the two of us but once we had kids ... it's like we couldn't move on without that last step. A home. A window to stand at and wave good bye to Daddy. My Patrick is going to be a Daddy!
The plane starts to drop. No leveling off. I let go of one armrest, hand over my flat stomach. The baby. Please! I have to make it! My little one never had a chance ... Please!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
What did Patrick think of the phone call? How did he spend his time waiting for my flight?
Check out his story:
http://java-fiend.livejournal.com/312337.html#cutid1