His Wounded Light (25 page)

“Isa,” she says, “you know he loves you very much. There’s no way that that’s all changed in merely two months. Maybe he’s not in his right mind. Have you talked to Dale or Amanda about this? Is he on some sort of crazy medication?”

“That’s the thing. Amanda is there every week, and he looks normal when he’s with her. I’ve seen them laughing and joking about things when they think I’m not around.”

“That doesn’t sound right,” Ali comments.

“Well, I’m not giving up on him. Maybe your husbands can keep reaching out to him, make him see what he’s doing.”

“Definitely!” they all say in unison.

“Oh, Isa, please be strong. And don’t shy away from us. You need us now more than ever, and we’re here for you,” Ali says, squeezing my hand just a touch too hard. “Promise you’ll keep us posted and you’ll call us every day for an update.”

I’m feeling it now. My exhaustion, my emotion, my panic. I need to get up and throw up in the bathroom. “Excuse me, I’m just going to the washroom.”

I make my way on wobbly knees down a dark hall past the bar and towards the ladies’ room. A sharp physical pain courses through my body as I glance over at the bar and remember the night twelve years ago when Alex saved me from that guy. I love him so much. I’m going to make it work.

“Issy.” Only one person calls me that. Used to call me that. What is going on with my life? Is this a sick, cruel joke? I turn around and there he is. In a business suit, no less.

“Jesse. What are you doing here?” I lean against the wall. The room is spinning and I can’t focus on his face.

“Business meeting. And you?”

“Oh, just a girls night with Evie, Ali and Betts.”

“Ah.”

“Are you buying this place, Jesse?”

“Why would I be buying this place?” He’s shaking his head like it’s a ludicrous suggestion, but his smile is disarming.

“Cause you seem to be buying everything out these days.” I’m still having a problem focusing. I’m going to lose it any minute.

“Are you okay, Isabel?”

“Of course, why would you think I wasn’t okay?” I retort back, defensively.

“You look a little pale. But...you’re looking great as always. Say hi to the girls for me.” He turns his back and walks away.

I continue on to the bathroom, sink to the floor, and cry.

Two hours later, I walk into our dark home and make my way up the stairs. After that episode in the bathroom, I force myself to stay for a few more pleasantries before begging off and asking to be driven home ahead of the others. Alex is sitting in the dark on the landing right above the stairs. It appears that he’s been waiting for me to come home. I know he’s been drinking. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes.

“Hi,” I greet him cheerfully. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll come around tonight.

“Where’ve you been? Trolling around for men? Your outfit certainly fits that purpose.”

W
hat? Did I just hear him say that? How much more can my heart take?
His words will be the death of me.
I stop right before the landing to face him. “Alex, take that back. You know who I was with. I told you. You’re picking another fight with me.”

He keeps both hands on the wheels of his chair. I’ve learned that he does this when he wants to keep them in check and control his feelings. “Are you going to sign those divorce papers?” He’s not going to let this go. He really wants to start an argument.

“No. I told you we’re going to work this out.” My response is direct and adamant.

“I don’t want to work it out. I want a divorce. I want to be free of this.”

His words have been gutting me for months and yet, I’m dying to reach out to touch him. “Free of what? What have I done to you to make you hate me so much?”

“I hate what we had because we can’t have it anymore. Get over it, Isa. We have to move on.”

“Move on with what? We’re going to have a baby. And I love you so much, Alex.”

“I don’t love you. In fact, I think I’m finding Amanda to be very sexy these days.”

“Ha!” I force out a laugh. “I don’t believe you.” My mood changes, and I’m desperate to make him see how wrong he is. “Baby, please, we can work this out. You’ll get better and this will all just be a bad dream. Please, please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. I love you.”

“Begging doesn’t become you, Isa. What more do you want me to say to you? I WANT OUT.” With this, he motions his wheelchair backwards as if getting ready to move away from me.

“No, you don’t.” I’m standing on the step right below him. I boldly move forward and place myself between his legs on his chair. I hold his face and kiss him. For a minute I can feel it, I have my old Alex back. He closes his eyes as I brush my lips against his. His reaction prompts me to go further. I use my tongue to lick his top lip but right after he lets out a moan, he snaps back to the stranger he’s turned into.

“No, Isa. It’s over.” He takes my hands from his face and pushes them away.

This final act causes me to stare at him in confusion, wondering whether he really did stop loving me after such a short time. My astonishment at being rejected once again is so pronounced that I abruptly stand up, humiliated at the loss of my pride. The heel of my shoe doesn’t make it on the edge of the step and I lose my footing. I stumble backwards and topple down the flight of stairs, watching him reach out his arms to me in an effort to stop me from this fall.

Why, Alex? Why are you hurting me like this?

Right before my head grazes the edge of the bottom step and I slip into oblivion, I hear his voice bellowing just as the blackness hits.

I hear him call out my name.

***

“Don’t grieve. Anything you lose comes around in another form.”

—Rumi

I open my eyes under extremely bright lights, the kind of florescent lighting that they only have on operating tables. In hospitals.
What am I doing here?
I try to blink my eyes open but I keep slipping in and out of awareness. I hear voices—women, men, people, orders. I don’t know where I am. All of a sudden, I feel a slicing pain in my abdomen.

“Help me, I feel like someone’s cutting me open!” I scream.

“30 more milligrams, now!” I hear a man’s voice as the mask on my face is adjusted and everything goes dark.

For a while, I float in and out of pointless dreams. Subliminally, I’m begging for the dream about my mother. I know she’ll have the answers that might help me understand what had happened to my life. I emerge out of the mist when I open my eyes and recognize that I’m still alive. Through my half-open eyelids, I scan the room and find Evie and Ali standing in the corner.

“What happened?” I ask, my voice hoarse, my throat dry.

“Oh, Isa! We’re so glad you’re okay. Try to get some rest. Don’t talk, just close your eyes and sleep.”

“What happened to me?” I inquire again. I hold my hands up against my face and I see that they’re bloodied. It wasn’t a dream? Did I really dig my fingers into my stomach as they were doing something to me?

Evie presses the call button and the nurse’s voice comes through the intercom. “Please call Dr. Murray, my sister is awake.”

I see Alex wheeling himself towards my bed. He’s trying to get to me as fast as he can, frantic and upset. “Isa!” he calls out. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

Dr. Murray arrives immediately and pushes her way past him to take her place by my bedside. The warmth of her fingers on my forehead is comforting. “Isabel, how are you feeling? You spent quite a while in recovery, dear.” I’m close to Dr. Murray and so very thankful to see a familiar face. We have become friends ever since I came to her when I was pregnant with Eddie.

“What happened to me, Barbara?”

“When you took a fall down the stairs, you immediately went into labor.” She pauses and her face conveys my biggest fear. “We had no choice but to deliver the baby via C-section.”

I lose my voice for some reason. I know there’s no way the baby could’ve survived, I was barely five months along. I want to say something, but I can’t produce a sound. Finally, in one silent breath, I ask, “Was it a boy or a girl?”

“A girl, Isabel. She was a girl.”

“Sophie.” I whisper back. I want to cry but I have no more tears left.

Alex is close enough to hear me utter her name. His breath hitches and his face contorts in remorse, tears spilling down his cheeks.

We were going to name her Sophie.

“I need to be alone, please.” Out of nowhere, I finally find the strength to say these words.

Alex tries to stand from his chair as he reaches out to touch me. It takes every bit of energy I have to withstand the excruciating pain it causes me to face away from him and push myself to the opposite side of the bed. My stitches feel raw, my body is bruised.

But nothing compares to the pain of his touch.

Dr. Murray knows that it’s her cue to leave, so she pats my arm before gently squeezing it and walking away.

“Alex, please leave.”

“Isabel, I—”

“It’s over. I’m letting you go. Right now, today. I’m signing those divorce papers.”

Please God, let the tears come. I need the tears to wash all my sorrow away.
I pull the covers over my head and silently pray for the two people I’ve lost today. Alex and Sophie.

***

“And I, will walk on water

And you will catch me if I fall

And I will get lost into your eyes

And know everything will be alright.”

“Storm” by Lifehouse

“You got it, sweetie?”

I bend down to help Maddy drop the flowers on the marble slab underneath the intricately sculpted headstone. Eddie is standing next to me with his arm around my shoulder. He steps forward in response to my question.

“Yes, Mom. We love you, Sophie,” Eddie says before stepping back to take his sister from my arms.

As I genuflect in prayer, I gently bow down to place a pretty pink rosary right next to her offering. Maddy has a matching one in her bedroom. It still hurts to move too much, so I slowly regain my balance before lifting Maddy up and taking Eddie’s hand to walk back to the car. It’s a sunny morning in September, not your typical day during these monsoon months. Off in the distance, Emmy and the driver are waiting to take us back to the apartment. Two weeks have passed since the birth of my daughter. We had a memorial service for her as soon as I was released from the hospital. I use the word birth because that’s all I am willing to remember. My recurring dream should have been about two people, not just one.

All this physical activity has delayed the healing of my stitches, both from the fall and from my delivery. I’ve moved out of our home and have taken the children with me. Alex withdrew the divorce papers but my lawyers were clever enough to back date my agreement so that my acceptance would supersede his withdrawal. He’s been trying to see me ever since. I don’t want to see him when he picks up the children and so I ask Ali to arrange for him to take them to and from her place. My children are fine. They have seen enough love between their father and I that somehow they know that whatever is happening is for the best at the moment. I have good days and bad days. On the good days, I work for twelve hours and succumb to the exhaustion that overtakes me when my head hits my pillow. On the bad days, I fight every urge to call him and beg him and tell him that I forgive him. On the good days, I cry. And on the bad days, I don’t.