Heartkiller

Monday February 4, 2013 (cont’d)

As he sat at the dining table having just heard the news, he didn’t know quite how to react. Part of him wanted to pull Avery into his arms and never let go. She was his soulmate, and since they were hurting, he felt that they should console each other. But he knew her. Avery was never the type to seek help when she was in pain. She would always bottle it up and push him away, trying to convince him that she was okay. He didn’t understand why she did that. Did she really think that he was oblivious to it all? Avery didn’t realize that he loved her with all his heart. When she hurt, so did he.

However, he was used to her evasive coping mechanism, so even though he wanted to hold her and kiss her and tell each other that it was all going to be okay, Ville thought she’d push him away like she always did. He settled for a kiss on her forehead and retreated down the hallway, still reeling from the news.

"I need some space..." He murmured as he walked away.

He went into the bedroom in a daze and closed the door behind him. Settling into a space on the floor by the bed, he leaned against the nightstand and interlaced his fingers atop his knees. Ville was shocked. He didn’t completely understand what it all meant. It was a baby. It was safe inside Avery, the woman he trusted with his own life. He didn’t think anything could happen so early and not when the baby had someone like Avery protecting it. It was inconceivable.

“She had a miscarriage… She had a miscarriage.” He repeated the words over and over again, but it didn’t change anything. It didn’t help him understand any more than he had five minutes ago. The baby was gone? How could that be true? It was only a few weeks ago that he and Avery had been discussing baby names. They were making plans, they were creating a life, and it was all for naught. Now the child seemed to have disappeared as quickly as it had come to exist.

He grit his teeth and kneaded his knuckles into his palm. His core burned with a fiery rage. After a tumultuous few years, didn't he deserve some mercy? What horrendous sin had he committed in a past life to deserve such torment now? First, it was a series of destructive relationships. Then, he suffered from depression and alcoholism for a few years while mending his broken heart. And when he finally found love and was ready to start the next phase of his life with the woman he loved, he received such distressing news.

Ville groaned and stood, unable to contain his emotions by sitting down. He paced the bedroom with his hands in fists; he quickly pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it in an effortlessly fluid motion. Closing his eyes, he inhaled a few puffs of it hoping it would calm him down. The smoke traveled down his throat and permeated his lungs; surely, this wasn’t good for his asthma.

Ville stood with his legs spaced apart. He held the cigarette by its tip and looked down at the floor. For a few seconds, he focused on the nicotine that pumped through his veins. It was a good distraction, but the smoking wasn’t enough to alleviate the pain. It didn’t take long before he was pacing the length of the bedroom once more. Ville dug his fingernails into his palms from holding his fists together so tightly. His teeth were grinding together, and his eyes were shut. Ville finally decided that this wasn’t real. None of this was real. Avery’s heartfelt confession was just some terrible nightmare from which he would soon wake. It had to be. He fell to his knees and held back sobs. It had to be.

Tuesday February 5, 2013

The next morning, the apartment was silent and still. Avery was fast asleep on the couch, having collapsed from exhaustion at some ungodly hour; Ville was still in the bedroom since he went inside yesterday afternoon. The whole place was eerily motionless. The winter sunlight spilled through the living room windows and fell on Avery's lids, waking her up. Her body roused on the couch for a few minutes, but she soon sat up and stretched her legs and toes. She hadn't slept for very long, maybe an hour or two. Most of the night, she had been sitting awake either staring at the ceiling or looking out of the window at the streets below, waiting for Ville to come to her.

She hadn’t heard from Ville since she spoke to him yesterday. Last night after her bath, she didn’t try to approach him, wanting to give him the space he’d requested. However, Avery spent the whole night wondering how he was dealing with the news. The look in his eyes--one of realization and sadness--was burned into her mind. She didn’t know how he was, and she wanted to make sure he hadn’t done anything rash. Avery bit her lip, not knowing how to approach him. She didn't know what she could possibly say to ease the tension.

Avery sat on the couch with her knees pulled up to her chest. Her forehead was laced with worry, and she rested her chin on the top of her knees. She wanted to hear from him. Avery needed to know that he was okay because she knew she needed him.

She had spent a few days tormenting herself by crawling out of bed everyday to go to work and pretending like everything was okay. Now that Ville knew, she no longer had to put up that act. There weren’t any feelings left to protect. She didn’t want to hear from or to see anybody else. She just wanted to be alone with him and finally cope with the news instead of filing it away. She wasn't going to work today. She couldn’t bring herself to force a smile, not when she felt as hopeless as she did.

Immediately, she pulled the laptop off the coffee table and went to her email to explain to her coworkers that she wasn’t coming in today. Opening a blank template, she addressed the email to her boss and copied Paige to make sure her assistant was aware, too. After that, she sat frozen and speechless. The cursor tauntingly blinked at her. What was she to say? The honest truth would go something like, “I’m sorry I can’t come in, my life has been obliterated because I suffered a miscarriage and I can’t find the will to live.” Avery knew she couldn’t say that though. The minute she hit send, Paige would be at her doorstep with consolation gifts and ready to keep her company for as long as it took her to recover. No, she had to be delicate with her words. She closed her eyes and typed a draft with whatever came to mind.

Hello,

I hope you are well. Due to a family matter, I will be unable to come into work for the rest of the week. My meetings can be rescheduled for a later date due to this emergency. I will be available by email if anything urgent comes up. Otherwise, I will see you on Monday.

Thanks,
Avery

She opened her eyes and reread the email. It was vague but with enough details that she wouldn’t receive follow-up questions. A family emergency was a valid excuse that not only described the circumstances, but also warranted some time off. With her hand hovering over the trackpad, she hesitantly clicked the ‘send’ button. For now, it was a week of personal vacation that she was taking, but it would soon add up. She’d send the email every Monday until the firm finally let her go, which Avery knew would happen if she waited long enough. Right now, she couldn’t imagine ever finding the strength to return to a regular life. It seemed preposterous to go to work everyday and face other people who didn’t have a clue as to what she was going through. She didn't think she'd ever return to that lifestyle.

She set the laptop back on the table and stood up. Reluctantly, Avery walked down the hallway until she reached the bedroom. Her hand lingered over the closed door as she debated whether or not to knock. It was quiet. She didn’t know if that meant that he was asleep or if he was awake and motionless. Or worse.

Her hand dropped to her side, and she croaked, “Vi…” and stopped. That’s all she could get out.

Shaking her head, Avery bit her lip and walked away, rushing back to the living room. She couldn’t face him now. He had asked for space, and she had to respect that. He would come to her when he was ready. At least, she hoped he would. It killed her, though, to live in such a rattled state. She didn't have a clue as to how he was feeling; Ville shut her out completely.

When she returned to the couch, her cellphone started ringing. Avery trudged her way to her messenger bag and fished the cell out of it. Paige, she read off the caller ID. She didn’t want to answer; as she’d just realized, it was impossible for Avery to keep her voice even, and she had to be nonchalant in this call to convince Paige not to worry. However, Avery panicked that if she didn’t talk to her now, Paige may show up unannounced, which would be much worse.

She sighed and begrudgingly answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me. I just got your email… Is everything okay?” Paige asked in a concerned voice.

“Hmm?” Avery cleared her throat. Mustering as casual a tone as possible, she lied, “Oh, yeah… Everything’s fine. It’s, um… It’s my brother Brody, actually, out in California. He’s, uh, he’s dealing with some stuff right now and I just want to go out there and support him. Make sure he’s okay, you know?”

“Are you sure? Do you need me to do anything to help?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” she waived. “If you can move my meetings around, that'd be great. Other than that, I’ll see you on Monday, Paige.”

“Okay. Don’t hesitate to call me if something comes up, alright?”

“Yeah, will do.” Avery replied, keeping her answers short in the hopes that Paige would end the conversation soon.

“Okay, fly safe.”

“Thanks, bye.”

“Bye.”

Avery hung up the phone and groaned. She didn’t want to speak to anyone but Ville. She turned off her phone and tossed it onto the couch.

Going to the kitchen, Avery started a pot of coffee while she looked around for something for breakfast. It didn’t seem like Ville was going to come outside anytime soon, and, even though she had lost her appetite, she didn’t want him to starve. There was a half-empty box of cereal and a quarter of a loaf of bread in the cabinets. She took out two slices of bread and put them in the toaster; while that was getting ready, she poured milk into a bowl and added some cereal. It wasn’t long before the bread popped up. After taking the slices out, she set them on a plate and spread butter onto them. Finally, she poured some black coffee in a mug and added two spoonfuls of sugar. Placing the items on a serving tray, Avery then took the food down the hallway and set them on the floor in front of the bedroom doorway, hoping he’d find the will to eat.

She then retreated to the bathroom and started filling the tub with warm water. It had been comforting last night to soak in the water. Avery knew she couldn’t do that for too long else her skin would shrivel like a raisin. It was desensitizing from the rest of the world and that’s what she needed right now: comfort, in its twisted, self-loathing form. It was difficult to be apart from her husband during this time. She didn’t even care that she wasn’t sleeping on a bed; Avery just wanted to make sure he was okay. As okay as he could have been, considering the circumstances. Ville had made himself a prisoner, isolating himself in the bedroom.

Taking a deep breath, Avery plunged under the water in the tub. She stayed underwater for a few seconds and then brought her face up to the surface. She entered the water again and stayed longer this time. She held onto the sides of the tub to keep her steady, and Avery forced her nose and mouth to stay under the water as long as she possible could. There was a pressure at her sternum while her lungs yearned for a breath of air. She resisted and continued to hold herself in that position, practically suffocating herself. Finally, her autonomic nervous system took control, forcing her to bring her face out of the water. Avery was gasping but before she could catch her breath, she went under again.

After a half hour of this motion, Avery pulled herself up and stood in the bathtub, allowing the excess water to drip off her body. She then wrapped a towel around herself and unplugged the tub to let the water drain. She avoided looking in the mirror when she redressed in the clothes she’d been wearing earlier; she didn’t want to face her reflection when she was already repulsed by her very existence. Once she finished changing, she opened the door and tentatively looked down the hallway. Her shoulders sulked, and she pursed her lips: he hadn’t eaten yet.

In the bedroom, Ville sighed. The first day he was angry, but now he was doubled over in tears, unable to rein in the pain any longer. He had never cried so hard in his life. His body was inextricably entangled in the sheets on the bed, and Ville had his head buried in a pillow, which was drenched in tears. He was quiet; there weren’t any moans nor yelps as he didn’t have the strength. With his eyes focused on a speck on the wall, Ville was in a stupor and cried silently. Time passed but he wasn’t conscious of it. He was too busy thinking about the life he had imagined.

Ville, though he’d remain the traveling rockstar, would be prudent to play an active role in his child’s life. In the younger years, he’d take the child on the road with him so that when Ville wasn’t on stage, he would be holding the baby. He’d play and coo and sing to him/her. He’d laugh and tickle. And when he wasn’t touring, Ville would be at home to teach everything from the alphabet and the number system to riding a bike.

Once the child was older, perhaps as a teenager, he’d be the overprotective father with a watchful eye, ensuring that his son/daughter didn’t get into too much trouble. He knew what it meant to be a teenager. Ville had broken his parents’ rules and snuck out of the house at odd hours of the night to hang out with his friends. He wouldn’t let that happen with his own, however. He’d be careful.

He’d even gone so far as to picture the first time his child would bring home a date. If he’d had a daughter, he’d grill the guy till he was too scared to hurt Ville’s daughter. If it had been a son, he’d warn him to be good and respectful to treat the girl well. Ville’s heart leaped to his throat; he couldn’t do any of this anymore. All that he had ever pictured would remain just so: a figment of his imagination. At least, that’s all it would be for now. He didn’t know what the miscarriage meant about the couple’s future. Could they conceive again? Even if they could, would they even try? Or were they too attached to this first child that the very idea of moving on made their stomachs turn?

He rolled over on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Occasionally, he would hear some rustling at the door and was aware of Avery hesitating to come in. She never did. He would hear the water running in the bathroom or the pots clanging in the kitchen, but he paid no mind. He just lay on the bed and let the tears spill down his cheeks.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

All too quickly, Avery had fallen into a routine. When she woke up on the couch having slept an hour or two, she’d be troubled by the realization that Ville hadn’t come to her yet. It had been two days since she’d told him about the baby, and he still hadn’t spoken a word to her. Once she found the strength to get up, she would make breakfast for Ville; she would only eat if he did, and since he hadn’t eaten anything yesterday or the day before, neither had she. After brushing her teeth, she’d set out the food for him and return to the bathroom to soak in the tub for some time, hoping Ville would eat or, better still, come out to talk to her.

It felt weird for him to shut her out like this. He was usually open about what he thought or felt. Avery was the one who bottled up her feelings from her spouse. She bit her lip when she realized that this must have been how Ville felt whenever she was being cold and distant with her feelings. She thought she was helping by keeping him away from her troubles when all he ever wanted was to help. When she had done it, Avery thought she was protecting him from petty problems, but she now realized that she was pushing him away, likely making him feel as helpless as she felt now.

When the tub was ready, she undressed and lowered herself into the water. She was wearing the same clothes as the past few days because she didn’t want to enter the bedroom and bother Ville. It didn’t matter, though. Avery didn’t care about her appearance, especially not now. She slowly sank deeper so that she was completely underwater. The water was enough to drown out all the noise of her thoughts, making it feel like time was slowed.

She exhaled deeply when she brought her head out of the water. She bobbed her head in and out of the water a few times, staying under as long as she could. It was agonizing. She was literally waterboarding herself not only to deal with the stress and pain but also to clear her mind. As she vacillated between the water and air, she reached a point of delusion. She couldn’t sense the emptiness at the pit of her stomach nor the crushing constant thoughts about the miscarriage. In fact, she didn’t even remember Ville sitting in the next room. In her heart, she knew he was there; she knew all these things. But whenever her head was submerged in the water, these things no longer ate away at every part of her sanity.

Avery continued for a few minutes. Every breath she held was one that her baby should have had. Every gasp of air she craved was for every sob she caused Ville to let out. It was a dreadfully solemn punishment that she’d created.

When she finished torturing herself twenty minutes later, Avery sat in the tub panting to catch her breath. Her chest slowly heaved to a regular breathing pattern, and she gave a weak smile, pleased with admonishing herself. After standing up and letting the water drip from her body, Avery got out of the bathtub and dried herself off. She redressed in the jeans and tee she had been wearing for three days now and left the bathroom.

After a few hours of crying, Ville had passed out on the bed. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his pillow was soaked. He stirred in his position as he started to wake. His eyes blinked open and he looked around the room. Without any windows to look outside or a clock to reference, Ville didn’t have a clue as to what time it was. He sat up in bed and looked at the patterns on the bedsheet, slowly withdrawing from sleep and remembering where he was.

Ville hadn’t forgotten about the miscarriage, though. The news hung over him like a dark cloud and plagued his every thought. Having cried his tears, he now had an overwhelming urge to write music to describe how he felt. Throwing the duvet off his body, he stood and went to the wall where his guitar hung. Ville had two guitars here and several more in his tower in Helsinki so that he was prepared whenever he wanted to write. Gently taking the guitar’s neck off its hook, Ville admired the instrument for a minute before returning to the bed. He looked in the nightstand for his notepad of paper and a pen.

Now that he had the guitar in his hands, Ville knew he wouldn’t let go until he’d written a song, maybe even two. It was the only way he knew to cope. In the past, it had been heartbreak or the loss of a friend. He never imagined that he’d be grieving the loss of his own child, one that he hadn’t yet held in his hands or rocked to sleep. He knew of no other method of expressing his emotion than to write music, so that’s what he did.

Ville laid on the bed with his knees sitting up. The guitar was on his stomach, and he hardly had enough room to hold it without his elbows brushing against the bed and limiting his range of motion. With his eyes closed, he let his fingers move along the string, allowing his heart to fuel the intentions. Ville would strum and occasionally, he'd play something he liked, which he'd quickly jot down. The words would come later; right now, it was all about the melody.

He let himself get lost in the music, though his chest ached. At this point, Ville wasn’t actively playing anymore, he just let his heart speak. He fixated on the grooves of the spackle on the ceiling and allowed his fingers to glide over the strings aimlessly.

At a sound near the door, his head perked up. He thought Avery was going to come inside, but she didn’t. Cocking his brow, Ville set the guitar down and went to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob and hesitated to open the door, hoping Avery wasn’t waiting to come inside. He couldn’t trust himself. He was behaving unpredictably, and he didn’t know what he’d do or say to her. Ville didn’t want to approach her until he’d calmed down significantly, though he wasn’t sure how long that would take.

After taking a deep breath to prepare himself, he opened the door. Nobody was there. He looked down the hallway to see Avery retreating to the living room. He bit his lip, wondering how she was doing. He wanted to know. He still cared about her, of course, but he couldn’t talk to her yet. As he started to close the door, his eyes caught sight of a plate of breakfast on the floor in front of the doorway. Cereal, bread, coffee. That’s what the noise was, he concluded. He picked up the tray, closed the door shut behind him, and returned to his position at the head of the bed.

Ville grabbed the spoon and stirred the cereal, watching the flakes move with the current in the milk he’d caused. He ate a spoonful of cereal slowly, but then continued to hungrily scarf down the rest of the food. Ville didn’t realize how ravenous he was. How many meals had he skipped? He wasn’t sure. Once he finished eating, he returned the dishes to their place in the doorway and closed the door behind him.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Avery rolled over on the couch. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was engulfed by a constant feeling of sorrow, and she felt pathetic. There was nothing she could do to dissolve the unrelenting melancholy except abuse herself in the tub, and even that was beginning to lose its effectiveness. Suddenly, Avery stood up and paced the length of the living room. She walked back and forth huffing and puffing. Her hands were drawn to her head, and she pulled at the roots of her hair as she continued to cry. She cried and cried. She thought that after twelve days mulling with the knowledge of the miscarriage that she’d finally run out of tears. She was so wrong.

The anger that had been brewing inside her needed to be unleashed. She needed an escape from the powerlessness she felt. Without a second thought, Avery took a few quick strides and grabbed the vase of flowers that was on the table by the front door. She gripped it as tightly as she could and stared intently at the life drawing out of the tulips. With all her strength, she hurled it at the opposite wall and let the vase shatter to pieces. The flowers and water painted the wall with stains, and she couldn’t do anything but sob. A couple heaves for air later, she stood straight and tall. The comfort of releasing her tension by throwing the vase was ephemeral, and she needed something else.

Waterboarding wasn’t helping, not now, not after three days of it. She needed something stronger to drown out the thoughts in her mind, giving her a few moments of ignorant bliss. Avery needed alcohol. She hurriedly shuffled to the kitchen and threw open all the cabinets. Because of Ville’s history with alcohol, the couple didn’t keep much of it around the apartment. There was a lone bottle of wine somewhere, though, that she saved for guests. She just had to remember where she kept it. Avery fumbled through the kitchen and opened the cabinet under the sink, unveiling the wine bottle. It wasn’t nearly as hard a liquor as she was hoping for, but it would have to do for the time being.

Pulling a corkscrew out of the drawer, Avery stuck it into the cork and effortlessly twisted it off. Without pause, she took a few gulps. She ambled to the living room and laid on the couch with the wine. Within minutes, she downed more than half the bottle and rested it on the coffee table. She buried her face in one of the couch pillows and let out a primal scream, although the pillow muffled most of the sound. Her rage was reborn as tears once again. She couldn’t believe that after only eight weeks she could be so attached to a human being that didn’t even completely exist. It had existed for nothing more than a scintilla in the timeline of the universe, and yet Avery felt like she was ripped apart limb by limb and fed to a burning pyre.

Friday, February 8, 2013

The first four days after she told him what happened were spent apart. Ville locked himself in the bedroom, and Avery spent her time on the couch staring up at the ceiling. Occasionally, she would hear the flush of the toilet or the water running, but Avery didn’t try to ambush him. When she woke up on the couch on Friday morning, Avery stood up and picked up the used tissues that had been scattered on the coffee table. Indubitably, there would be a new pile of tissues by the end of the day as Avery cried some more. She was just preparing the area for the inevitable. After throwing them away in the trashcan, she went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee.

She then reached for the package of bread and pulled out the two slices that remained. There was only enough for one person, but it didn't matter. She would only eat if he did; although Ville had eaten the three meals she had set out for him yesterday, she was unable to predict his behavior since she couldn’t gauge his state of mind. She put the bread in the toaster and turned the dial to a medium setting. While the coffee was brewing, Avery went to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Returning to the kitchen, she poured coffee into a mug and added two spoonfuls of sugar. The bread had been toasted, and she placed the slices on a plate before spreading some butter on them. She took the coffee and bread and placed them on the floor in front of the bedroom doorway. Though the door was closed, she could hear the soft strumming of a guitar playing an unfamiliar melody. Ville was awake.

Avery stood and regressed to the living room. She sat down on the couch with her legs folded and her palms resting on her ankles. She didn't know what to do. She felt physically empty without a baby inside her and emotionally empty since Ville was being distant. Avery would think that she didn't have any tears left to cry, and each day she would surprise herself. This was unlike anything she'd ever been through before. No heartbreak in the past could compare to how miserable she was now.

Around lunchtime, she called for a food delivery. In her condition, she could hardly find the strength to wake up everyday, let alone to cook a proper meal. Breakfast had been easy, but lunch and dinner required more effort, so she opted to order delivery. On this day, she settled for Chinese food from her usual restaurant a few blocks from Sterling-Ellis. Unwilling to speak on the phone to make her order, Avery opened her laptop and pulled up the restaurant’s website.

She scrolled down the page until she found the delivery button and clicked it. The page changed to a form with options to make selections; Avery didn’t have much thinking to do. She had a usual order that she favored, so she mindlessly went through the page to select Fried Rice, two orders of Teriyaki Chicken, and an extra container of rice. Once she made her choices, she was prompted to enter her address and credit card information. The order had been placed, and she pushed the laptop onto the couch.

Avery didn’t know what to do. She was tired of the silent treatment Ville was giving her. She felt like he was rightfully punishing her for what she had failed to do, but she was hoping for some mercy now that the days grew longer. She didn’t expect much from him to comfort her, but she would have appreciated anything. At the very least, Avery desired some acknowledgement that he was okay. Instead, she was left in an unbelievably cyclic reasoning wherein she would fluctuate between the idea that Ville, having accepted the miscarriage, was ready to move on and the belief that he resented her for everything and never wanted to face her again.

The doorbell rang, pulling her from her speculations, and she peeled herself off the couch. When she reached the door, she caught her reflection in the mirror by the entrance of the apartment. Her hair was a disheveled mess and her cheeks were red and tear-stained. Her eyes were puffy and red. She was almost unrecognizable. Avery sighed and opened the door, not caring for the impression her appearance would make on the delivery guy. When she looked up, she was surprised by who was waiting for her.

"Paige." She acknowledged. Since it was the first time she had spoken in three days, it felt weird to hear her own voice. She cleared her throat. "What-um, what are you doing here?"

"I stopped by the Chinese place you love so much, and Lisa told me that you had just placed a delivery order. And your mother called earlier today saying that she hadn't heard from you in a week.. Funny, she didn't mention anything about Brody." she replied. She wasn't trying to accuse Avery of anything; in truth, she was concerned about her, and she didn't know what would have prompted personal vacation if it wasn't to visit Ville. Why had she lied? Paige had come in search of answers. Holding her hand up to show Avery the bags of food, she said, "I picked up your order.... Mind if I come in?"

"Hmm? Um, I mean... Sure, I guess." She said hesitantly. "Yeah, come in."

Avery opened the door wider and allowed Paige to enter the apartment. Immediately her assistant noticed how different the apartment looked. The usually meticulously cleaned apartment was scattered with various items. Next to the doorway was a shattered vase, and the dead flowers lay in a puddle of water. The adjacent wall was stained where Paige assumed the vase was hurled. There were takeout containers in a disarray over the dining table and an endless amount of used tissues on the couches and coffee table. It was a mess. It was strange to see.

Leaving Paige to get settled in the living room, Avery took one of the takeout containers and a set of chopsticks to the bedroom, placing the food in its usual spot. When she returned, she could see Paige sporting a worried look. Avery didn't know what to say. Not expecting any guests to show up, she didn't have any explanation prepared.

"Avery..." She started cautiously. "What's wrong?"

She took a seat on the other couch opposite Paige. Her body was crouched, and her hands were fidgeting in front of her. With a quivering lip, she looked at the floor. Her voice was strained and weak when she replied, "Nothing. It's complicated."

"Try me." She challenged.

"Drop it, Paige." She said in a harsh tone. She didn’t mean to be so bitter with her, but in her state of mind, it slipped out.

"Fine." Paige replied in a weak voice. Leaning back in her seat, she reassured. "You don't have to tell me. Just know that I'm here for you."

"Thanks." she whispered.

"Can you at least tell me what you're feeling? Are you angry, depressed, hurt...? What? What is it?"

"All of the above.” Avery inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. “I feel... I feel like someone cut a hole in my chest with a rusty nail, ripped out my beating heart, and taped my eyelids open to watch as my heart was cut into itty bitty pieces."

"There's an image," she murmured. "I suppose that's entirely feasible if you didn't die the minute your heart was no longer pumping blood through your system." She waited for a response but Avery didn't so much as flinch. Surprised, Paige whispered, "Tough crowd."

"That's entirely the point, Paige. I should be dead… With the disgusting repulsion that’s beating inside of me, I should be dead, but I'm not and it's miserable to be stuck in this limbo."

Paige looked at her. Avery looked emaciated, and the skin on her face was pulled taut to display the crevices of her bones. Her eyes were sunken in and the area underneath was discolored and stained with tears. Her lips were cracked. She looked broken in every sense of the word. Paige couldn’t believe that it was actually Avery sitting in front of her. It didn’t seem like her boss, the woman she’d been working with for many years. No, Paige wouldn’t have even recognized her if they passed each other on the street.

Avery avoided eye contact for a while, but when Paige didn’t say anything, she looked up to see her. Their eyes met and Paige bore a hole through Avery’s skull trying to read her. She couldn’t. She could gather the obvious visible signs, but she couldn’t figure out what had gotten Avery to this place. She wanted to help, but she didn’t know where to start, especially when she didn’t know what had happened.

Paige admitted, "I've never seen you like this."

"I've never been like this." She deadpanned.

"Does Ville know?"

Her mouth fell agape and she tentatively answered, "To some extent."

"Is it something he did that caused you to feel this way?"

"Not even in the slightest." she replied quickly.

Paige narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Would you tell me even if he were the reason?"

Avery shook her head. "Probably not."

She looked at her woefully. It looked like she pitied Avery, which is exactly what Avery was trying to avoid. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Drive a stake through my chest." She replied without batting an eye.

Paige sighed. "I can't do that. Anything else?"

"Nope." she replied, popping the ‘p.’ Her blue eyes looked up to see the pitying frown lingering. “There’s nothing you can do. Just let me sit and…” With tears in her eyes, she finished, “...and rot.”

Saturday February 9, 2014

On the fifth day, things changed. When Avery came by to get his empty plate of breakfast, she found the bedroom door ajar. The man was finally ready to speak to her. She pushed the door further, slowly and cautiously for she didn’t want to surprise him, and peered inside. Ville was sitting at the edge of the bed with the neck of his guitar leaning against his leg. There were crumpled balls of paper surrounding his form. At the creak of the door, his head perked up from his hands.

“Hey… can I come in?” Avery asked timidly.

“Yeah.” Ville uttered huskily.

She walked inside and took a few cautious steps toward him. When he motioned for her to sit beside him, she obeyed. Mirroring his posture, she sat with her legs extended in front of her, and her intertwined fingers rested in her lap.

“I don’t even know where to start.” she whispered, staring at the floor.

He didn’t immediately reply. His eyes bore a hole through the dresser on the opposite wall. He’d left the door open for Avery because he thought that he’d finally be able to speak to her without the risk of lashing out his emotions. Now that she sat next to him, he didn’t know what to say to explain the crumbling feeling within himself.

“It’s been difficult to absorb.” Ville admitted at last. "You know, we thought that we were going to be caring for a child by the end of this year. Sooner, in fact.”

“Trust me, it took some time for me to process the entirety of what this meant, too… it’s a lot to wrap your head around.”

Ville scooted down the mattress till he leaned against the headboard of the bed. She followed and sat in front of him with her legs crossed. He breathed a sigh and said, “And I know-- I know we’ve only been--or we were, rather, pregnant for a couple months, but…” he paused, and Avery waited patiently till he was ready to continue. Ville blinked his eyes, as if trying to fathom the reality, “there were so many things I imagined that we would do together… with the baby. I’d made plans and gotten attached to the idea of...”

“Of expanding our family?” she offered, and he nodded. “Yeah, I know. I know exactly what you mean, Ville. I thought that after everything we’ve been through together, the good, the bad, that we’d have the chance to create something fueled by our love. I’ve experienced a range of mental states these past few days, but the one that resonates the most is bitterness. I… I’m just so bitter that this happened.”

“I’m angry. I’m vengeful. I… Our vacations and travels, our laughter, our tears… there was going to be another being here to share that. Isn’t it cruel that the idea of having that is just…” he snapped his fingers to emphasize, “Gone?”

“Yeah.” she whispered softly.

He took a sharp breath and they sat in silence for a few moments. Ville took her hands in his and rubbed circles into her skin with his thumbs. He felt bad for pushing her away for the past few days and was trying to make up for it by keeping her close to him now. They spoke in hushed voices as they didn’t have the energy for much else, but they didn’t even have to speak. Being in the same room now spoke volumes in itself as to what they were experiencing. The company of the other was enough comfort after spending days apart.

“It’s been some great years together. The best years of my life, I’d say.” Ville shrugged his shoulders, and his anger and bitterness pushed him to ask apathetically, “It was all going to catch up with us at some point, wasn’t it, darling?”

Immediately, she was ignited with rage and glowered at him. He couldn’t possibly think that their happiness and their satisfaction with the relationship was enough to validate what had happened, could he?

“Bullshit!” she snarled and grabbed his shoulders to pull him close. “Don’t you dare give me that bullshit, Valo! You believe so dearly in love; you can’t tell me this was some twisted fucking karma that caused us to…” her voice dropped to a whisper, and her grip loosened on his collar: “...that caused me to miscarry.”

She settled back into her seat and let go of him. At her last words, his mood completely changed. The anger roaring behind his emeralds settled and his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

In a gentle tone, he reassured, “It’s not your fault, Ave. You couldn’t have caused this. It’s not you. Please--please don’t think that I’m blaming you.”

She bit the side of her mouth and stood, ready to leave the room and cry in solitude. However, Ville grabbed her hand, forcing her to stay. She didn’t turn around though; he had to take both of her hands in his and pull her into his lap before Avery would face him. Even then, her vision was focused on the intricate pattern of the bedsheet as she avoided eye contact. His hands were interlaced at the small of her back to support her weight, and he didn’t have a free hand to tilt her chin up so that she would look at him. Resorting to alternative methods, Ville placed a gentle kiss on her cheek and lingered, breathing in her natural scent and the jasmine of her hair. When he pulled away, Avery begrudgingly met his gaze.

“Do you really think I blame you for what happened?” he pled.

“I blame myself, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, too.” she admitted, gnawing on her bottom lip to release the tension.

Ville sighed. “Why--Why would you possibly feel that way? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Then why did this happen, hmm?” she implored him for answers to the questions that had been haunting her for weeks.

“Ave…” he started, pained by the way she belittled herself. “I don’t know what to tell you… If you’ve been healthy and eating well and taking care of your body, which I know you have, this was beyond your control. This is something that happened, and it’s unfortunate, but… there’s no reason for you to think that this was your doing.”

“Of course it was, Ville. How else could this have happened? This baby was inside me. I was the only one interacting with it, it was only my body. If I didn’t cause this miscarriage, then what did?” Avery urged. “I spent these last few months working on that fucking Henderson case, and it stressed me out. I had late hours, and--and I don’t know. I guess it put a lot of stress on my body. It doesn’t matter what aspect of my life caused this, but there’s one thing I know for sure: it was me! It was my fault!”

“You think stress is what caused this? I don’t even--did you talk to the doctor about this?”

She rolled her eyes. She mockingly quoted, “‘There haven’t been any studies conclusively showing that stress is connected to a miscarriage.’”

“See, so--”

Avery interrupted: “No, Ville, no! They don’t even know what causes a miscarriage, so how can they say that stress isn’t a factor? Of course it is. What the fuck else could have caused it?” she sobbed and inhaled sharply. “There’s nothing else left to consider.”

He didn’t know what to say. While the couple was often able to hold an intellectual argument, it was hard for him to dispute her claims now. It wasn’t because he didn’t have anything to say; rather, he knew that there was nothing he could say to change her mind when she was so emotional. When she became like this, even the most foolproof logic wouldn't be enough to persuade the usually rational woman. Ville was smiting himself for having pushed her away the past few days as he tried to come to terms with the loss; he had unintentionally disregarded her since he was caught up in his own world.

Not knowing what else to say, he offered in a low voice, “I wrote a song, and… well, depending on what the guys think of it, this may be the missing piece of the album. Would you like to hear it, Avery?”

She nodded. Ville let go of her waist to grab the guitar that leaned against the end of the bed. She sat with her legs crossed, and he steadied the guitar on his lap. Ville readied by strumming a few chords before he started the song. He opened with light strumming to introduce the song and opened his mouth to sing:

We could be like all the others with nowhere to go
Paint ourselves into a corner with hope
This could be the end of everything
Afraid of a dream of one

Let's hold these hearts for one another
It's worth all wounds, it must be
If I'm drawn and quartered
It's only for you
Shall we hold that thought now and forever
In all shades of blue

So why won't you (why won't you) been waiting for you (waiting for you)?
Why won't you go on and run?

Every part of me wants to believe
There's a darkness we need to feel
For the brightest light to be seen and felt inside
Only because of you

Ville finished by repeating the chorus once more and playing the final chords of the song. He set the guitar back down and looked at her expectantly for her thoughts. Her baby blue eyes peered back at him.

“It was beautiful…” she commented, brushing her cheeks dry. “What’s it about?”

“It’s about pain and suffering. It’s about… it’s about having the chance--or the moment, whatever--to give up because that seems like the only way to deal with the pain, but then you realize that you’re not alone in this struggle. It’s about… cherishing the time with your loved ones and depending on them to get through the trying times. It’s about you and me.” he looked down to hide the tears. “It’s about you and me depending on each other to get through this… because I know we will get through this.”

“That’s… very hopeful of you.” With a weak smile, she continued, “It’s a sweet song… I love it, and I can’t wait to hear it on the album.”

“I can’t wait for you to hear it, either, babe.”

She bit her lip, bracing herself for the answer to her question: “Does that mean you’re going to return to Finland? Finish up the album?”

‘Um…” Ville exhaled deeply. “Yeah, I’m going to speak to the guys, but yeah, I think… I think that’s what I’m gonna do. Is that--is that okay?”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” she gave a weak smile to reassure him. “You should do, um… you should do that.”

Ville looked at her and probed her face for any signs that she was fibbing, but she was good at this. She put up an impenetrable mask to make him feel like he was doing the right thing. As she had done so many times in the past, she assured him that the right thing for him to do is to leave her alone, even though all she wanted was for him to stay with her. As she always did, she pushed him away.