Prescription for Miss Walker

I didn't come home from the hospital until late, about one in the morning or so. I thought maybe Amy would be in bed, so as soon as I entered the house, I dumped my bag by the door, picked up my little frantic puppy and ambled towards the kitchen. I had a lot on my mind, paperwork, angry nurses, pompous English ex-boyfriends...

Shira.

God, that woman gave me migraines.

So, with that to think about, imagine how startled I was to see a shape moving around in my kitchen, talking to herself.

"Amy, you shouldn't be awake. Go back to bed." I wandered over, placing Charlie down on the floor, as I came behind her and wrapped my arms around her slim waist. The heat radiating off her was enough to be considered a fever.

She shook her head swiftly. Clearly something was on her mind.

For the first time since I entered the room, I detected a pungent scent. Coffee, I realized quickly. She wanted to be up all night, waiting for me to come home. Even though she shouldn't have, since she had a fundraiser to plan in just under eight hours.

I kissed the back of her ear. She visibly shivered.

"Come on, go to sleep."

"I can't. I can't stop thinking."

Groaning, she leaned back further into me, but slowly raised her head until we were face to face. Her normally soft features were wrought with emotion, the price of not heading to bed when she was tired.

I knew that look, had seen it many times over the years. It was the reason we kept on fighting.

Here we go again.

I backed off, heading for the fridge. I was in the mood for something simple tonight, I didn't want to be up till God knows what hour.

My wife sighed, eyes following my every move.

"Ash, we need to talk about this. Stop running away from it when I'm trying to--"

"I said no, okay? How is that so hard for you to understand?" I kept my voice level. I didn't want to argue, I knew what it would lead to. We'd scream the house down, Charlie would go hide in a corner somewhere, and we'd finish it no better than the spot we were at before. That's how it always worked out, yet she kept on insisting we talk.

Amy moved closer, as close as she possibly could as I racked up the recipe for an omelet.

"You didn't at first. You said you'd consider it. It's been six years since then, and every time I try to bring it up it's like you don't want to at all." Her voice was throbbing with nerves. Heart in your throat syndrome, I see.

I rolled my eyes, although she couldn't see it as I was chopping vegetables.

"And I don't, I've told you this for months now." Hearing her squeal under her breath, I stopped what I was doing and turned to her. Tears streaked her chocolate skin. "I'm not ready and I won't ever be. I just can't."

As I got back to cutting, somewhere on the ground, Charlie barked.

"So what? You lied to me just to make me feel better? Give me false hope?"

I gritted my teeth and put the knife down. I whirled around, until I was leaning back on the counter and I wouldn't have to raise my head to watch her. So, I folded my arms and shrugged.

"I don't know what I was doing. I was twenty-five and in love, of course I'm going to agree to what you want. I didn't lie to you, but maybe, yeah, I did lead you on. I just wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I didn't care about anything else."

Back then, I knew what I wanted. I'd felt like the luckiest man in the world when she said yes to my proposal, then on top of the world when we officially become Mr and Mrs Cameron. I didn't think about anything else after it, since all that I'd been looking for now had my name and loved me just as much as I did her.

Perhaps we did marry too young, too quickly, without a second thought about what we were looking for after the marriage. I'd built myself a career I'd always dreamed of, and she finally got out of being a receptionist. We now had a big house, enough money to retire at any point, a well-trained puppy... how could she possibly see all of this and still want more?

"Are you honestly telling me you never thought of being a father?"

I winced.

On the contrary. I had thought about it -- when it was needed. A couple of weeks ago, when Michael burst into my office and claimed Shira was pregnant. The shock was immense, and throughout the next couple of days I spent with her, all that kept springing to my mind was that I could have had a child.

Sure, Shira terminated the fetus, but it still didn't stop me. I mean, if she hadn't, then I would have had to accept responsibility. I'd stand up and do what was right, even if it had meant losing Amy in the process.

I may not like children, it didn't stop me from knowing how I'd handle the situation once it was presented to me. I could be a father. A good one, if I tried hard enough.

But I didn't. I didn't want to be.

"Honey, it's late. You have the fundraiser tomorrow--" I began, but ultimately stopped when she slammed her hand down on the counter.

Charlie therefore started howling.

"I don't care! You know how much I want a baby, how long I have been longing for one. Ash, I'm thirty-one years old, soon it's going to be harder for me to try to conceive. If I don't..."

I stared at her, feeling the heat she oozed like a busted radiator. She'd never been this emotional about it before.

"If I can never experience that feeling of holding that kid in my arms, knowing I created such a wonderful life, then what? What am I supposed to do? Pretend I don't feel nauseous when we go to house parties and see them running around. Because I do already! I want one so bad, Ash, and I'm running out of time."

I was getting annoyed with this. We'd been through it a hundred times and it was like no matter what I said, it wasn't good enough.

The anger was swelling up inside of me, so I abandoned my food and headed out of the room, my wife screaming after me.

"Fine, walk away, but we're going to have to deal with this again! I am not giving up on what I want, Ash."

I was now in the entryway. I grabbed my bag and returned back to the kitchen, welcomed again by Amy's arched eyebrows and pursed mouth. I ransacked through it, ignoring her as she rambled on.

"There's only so much stalling I can take. We agreed before this marriage that we'd raise a family together, I'm sticking to that." Amy's raised voice alerted Charlie, of which I could hear running out of the room and up the stairs.

Great. One of us would have to console the poor thing.

She had started squawking again, but this time I wasn't taking heed of anything she said. I'd had enough of this constant fighting, and the fact she still continued to dismiss what I'd been saying for years.

I found the papers eventually and dropped them on the counter, wearing a scowl. I didn't remove my gaze from her face as she finally acknowledged what I had presented to her.

Disbelief colored her every feature.

"Ash, w-wha..."

I leaned against the fridge, my pulse racing faster than a street car. I had got them for precaution, mainly if I went for the other option -- but I hadn't, yet I still came back home to what had driven me away to begin with.

I swallowed.

"I can't give you what you want, so you deserve to find someone who will. I don't want to feel pressured into doing something I don't want to do, to raise a child I never asked for." I watched her as she scanned through the pages. "Amy, all I ever wanted was for us to be happy. And we were for a while. Maybe we aren't each other's forever; maybe we're just the 'right now'. So, I don't wish to hold you back. Be happy."

The tears worsened. I moved forward to hold her, but she pushed me away, not ready for my comfort.

"You bastard! I've given you seven years of my life, and for what? For you to decide what's best for us?" She was shrieking so loud, I had no doubt the neighbors would hear. I tried to get her to calm down, but she wasn't for it.

"No, it's not like that. I'm doing it for you, like you--"

"Like I wanted, right? Do you really think I'm going to find a man I love as much as you?" Just as I was about to answer, she held up a hand in silence, gripping the bottom of the divorce papers in a fist.

"Ash, please, I love you. Why have you given these to me? I don't care what you say, I know what I want. It's you. Please. Please don't leave me."

I'd never heard Amy beg before. We'd argued plenty of times, but never of this intensity, of this destructiveness. I hadn't walked out on her once, not even to a motel for the night. So, the concept of divorce must be crushing her.

Eyes glistening, she tried to suppress the tears that streaked down her face. She pressed her eyes hard, stopping more from shedding if she could.

I didn't want children. I honestly couldn't be a dad.

There was only one way to get out of this. Away from all the constant bickering, the fear that I wasn't enough for her, that I could never fulfil her needs.

"I don't want you."

Utter silence. The tears had stopped gushing. In fact, I'm not even sure she breathed.

"You don't... want me?" Her voice broke on the right word.

I locked her gaze with mine. I had to get it over with, there was no turning back from this anyhow.

"Not anymore."

Hoping the lack of hysterics meant she'd calmed down, I reached out for her again. After all, I couldn't just stand here and pretend I didn't care when it's all I did.

But the throbbing sting of her hand against my cheek stopped me. Gently clasping it, I quickly summarised how that was my second slap of today.

"Don't touch me. Just leave, please." It was a mere whisper, but I know I heard correctly.

Granting her last wish, I nodded, grabbed my bag and left the house. The bed would be cold tonight, so I didn't feel like sleeping there. Besides, I gathered she'd throw me out of it when she got the chance.

The night was dry and crisp, just as it had been when I made it inside. No stars either, they felt like an omen to what had gone down tonight.

So I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets and exited the premises, having no clue where I might possibly end up.

The only thing I knew about tonight was that Amy was free of me. She'd sign the papers, I knew she would. Despite how much she loved me, she knew she deserved better.

And that was enough for me to feel warm as I trudged to my car, away from the house we called home.