But I’ll Still Sing for You

Josh left after a long silence. He dropped his fork, allowing it to loudly clang on the plate in front of him. He pushed from the table, the chair scraped against the wood floor. He grabbed his jacket and stormed out the door. I sighed and took another bite from my breakfast.

I wanted him to come back and tell me he was sorry, or be at the doctor’s office when I got there two hours later, but he wasn’t. I went home, thinking maybe he’d be sitting by my door waiting to apologize or maybe already in the house pacing and wondering what he would say. He wasn’t doing those things either. So I went home, turned off all the lights, gathered my candles and lit the bathroom up with dim lights. I spent the afternoon taking a tub, shaving, and just generally trying my best to make me feel better.

I went to bed after eating a boring and particularly plain salad. I called Oli and left him a message before going to bed.

The week after Josh and I fought dragged on for what felt like an eternity. I spent my days doing not much of anything. Eating a little bit three times a day, and trying to get a hold of Oli. Nobody at all was answering their phones. Not even Laura. I wanted to tell her the sex of my baby.

It had been a very lonely and painfully quiet eight days when I noticed a strong stabbing feeling in my abdomin. I tried to call Josh, then Oli, then Laura, hell I tried everyone- even Max. No one answered. When I realized how alone I was I quickly called a cab. I left my phone on the counter, as if I’d need it.

I paid the cabbie and hurried best I could into the hospital.

“I’m not okay.” I tried to explain to the receptionist. “I need to see my doctor, my stomach hurts. My baby isn’t okay, please.” I begged her.

“I’m sorry ma’am, you need to fill this in.” I felt tears pooling in my eyes as I ripped the pen from her hand. I was scared. My mom barely made it through my birth. I was afraid I’d either lose my baby or my life. I sloppily filled in the form and shoved it back into the woman’s hands. “Oh, my god. Alexia Vienna, I’m so sorry. My daughters love your books, look I’ll call Dr.…” She trailed off as she typed in the number. I felt my ears begin to ring. “Ma’am?”

“I’m fine.” I whispered, trying my best to assure her. I gripped the counter. “Can I maybe, get a wheelchair? I’m t-” I stopped short. “This is too early, I’m only six months.”



I woke up a couple hours later in a hospital bed, feeling quite empty. “Well, look who’s up.” I blinked until the figure was clear. It was a male nurse. He had large framed glasses, and his hair was sort of sticking out. “How are you feelings?”

“Sad?” I mumbled. He nodded softly, checking a couple tubes.

“I’ll tell Dr. Garcia that you’re awake.” I nodded slowly and lifted my covers. I felt so deflated and empty. I waited for a while, I could feel how heavy my eyelids were. I was going to fall back asleep before my doctor could arrive.

After many minutes Dr. Garcia entered my room with a wide smile. “Alexia, you’re awake! How do you feel?” I shrugged, not meeting her joyful eyes. “Do you think you’d be up to seeing your daughter, and maybe naming her?” I looked up at my doctor, feeling my eyes water.

“She’s okay?” Dr. Garcia smiled and nodded slowly. “She’s three months pre-mature.”

“There are some complications that we will need to discuss but yes, she’s alive. Also, there’s a very distressed and disheveled man that’s been out in the waiting room for a while. I smiled to myself. Josh had been worried.

My doctor helped me into a wheelchair and helped me get comfortable before wheeling me out to see Josh. I smiled as I waited to see him. “Vienna, I was so worried, love. Are you okay?” I tried to keep my grin as Oliver knelt down to me. “I love you, I’m so sorry I left you.” His dark eyes were brimming with tears. “I’ve met her, no name I call her.” I smiled softly. Oliver took over the pushing of my wheelchair and Dr. Garcia directed us.

My daughter was laying in an incubator. She was very small, you could see veins in her face much better than you should. She was breathing slowly. “I can’t hold her, can I?” I asked weakly.

“You can hold her hand.” I tried not to let a sob slip from my mouth, but it did as it pleased. Oliver knelt down and held my hand. I pulled from him and coiled into myself. I tried not to cry so hard. I tried not to make everyone feel sad.

“Piper Olivia Franceschi. That’s her name, now take me back to my room. I want to be asleep.” I ordered, looking down at my feet.