Shadowed Soul (2 page)

I blinked a few times to coalesce my attention away from the seething mockery that was my distorted conscience.  Beth cried out again, more intensely this time from the delivery room at the hospital.  The epidural was in full swing, and although the morphine softened the pain from the waist down, the pitocin was too aggressive for her organs to handle. 

“Do you want to run away now, Thomas?” asked the demon, curling his talons around my brow and throat.  I realized I was back in the maternity wing of the hospital.  Do I stay and become a father?  “Run away now, Thomas.  Last chance!”  I wiped his saliva off my ear and neck as the Shadowed Soul clung to the back of my head.

My father had never been there for me; I had no training whatsoever as a dad.

“Piss off,” I whispered at the demon.  “You’re nothing but a shadow of my soul.”

“But, Thomasssss!” whined the demon malevolently.  “I’m as real as you.”

I brushed him off and sprinted down the hall toward the delivery room, the noxious Sumatran in the dispenser forgotten.  My feet grew larger and slower and my heart felt gargantuan as it beat faster.  My clawed phantom capered at the periphery of my vision, along the seam between ceiling and wall.  I cursed him and myself.  I would not abandon my wife and child.  I might be a man whom people found easy to hate, God knows I detested myself, but deep inside, I still had a spark of the person I was once born to be.  At times I felt that bright soul had been bound and gagged, and struggled to break free so that he could free me from my demonic Shadowed Soul.  Remaining helplessly mute, the darker aspects of me ran roughshod over my joy.  I had lost hope that the happy boy I once was would ever again find his way back through the damning maze and into the light.  I would forever remain a speechless child under the control of the mad emperor who squired my every move.  Perhaps the birth of my own child would tip the scales toward fresh-faced freedom.

Waiving urgently, a nurse came at me in the hallway from the delivery room.

“This way, please, Mr. Mitchell!  Your wife and child need you now.”  A node of hope and fear, I followed the nurse through gelatinous haze toward Beth’s room.

Nine months ago, Beth was still in extreme pain when we reached the emergency room. Her face took on a grey hue as we had filled in the endless paper work.  She was brave; her life had given her a resolve that would shame many others.  In contrast to the diaphanous psychological world in which I perpetually lost my way, my darling wife was rooted in a world of perpetual darkness.  Legally blind, Beth had started losing her eyesight at age seven.  At first it had been one eye.  She learned to cope and was reasonably functional.  The moment she had adjusted, fate, being the psychotic clown that it is, decided that it would be funny to take Beth’s other eye, too.  She still saw a little, but she described her vision as being like the echo of a half forgotten dream.  Shapes moved and occasional colors registered.  As she grew older her body had been plagued by a succession of illnesses that had weakened her physical form but had strengthened her tenacity. 

Enduring the severe pain in her side, by eight in the morning, Beth was exhausted from the battery of tests by a clockwork parade of medical professionals. I marveled at her fortitude.  She held my hand and I felt a rush of love surge through my tired frame.  Beth was my anchor.

“I’ll be fine Thomas,” assured Beth, smiling wanly at me, and I managed to smile back. “I’m sure it’s nothing, okay, baby.  We’ll be fine.”

              “You’re right,” I croaked in reply, my mouth and throat dry with the heat of the hospital and my medication.  The prescription I took to prevent me from being swallowed by the slavering demon often paled in its effectiveness when my anxiety mushroomed under extreme stress.  Beth squeezed my hand; despite her pain, she leaned forward to kiss me lightly on the cheek.

Beth’s mom had not been able to reach the hospital yet. 

“Gridlock in New York.  She’ll be here soon,” I reassured Beth.  It was terrifying to me how people could live in the same city yet find it impossible to travel across it quickly.  The metropolitan area was designed like arteries and veins that thread through the body.  But the madness of human design against natural design meant that to travel from one artery to another you had to go the least direct route possible.  Or, walk.

“Flying from out of state would be quicker than driving from her place,” I remarked. Beth wanted her mom here.  My belligerent inner-child churned.  “If it was my mom then I’d assume she went late night shopping at Macy’s, instead. To calm her nerves, you know?”  Beth laughed a little and that made me smile. “Unlike my mother, your mom loves you.  She’s coming.  She’ll show.”

“I know, Thomas,” said Beth, softly placing her head on my shoulder. “It’s late out there.  I’m worried about her.  My mom’s not a young woman anymore.”

“Dorothy’s tough,” I assured Beth, smoothing her hair with my free hand. “I’d be more worried about anybody that looked at her the wrong way.”

Even though I couldn’t see Beth’s face I knew she was smiling and this was enough to calm me.  She leaned against me for nearly thirty minutes and fell asleep.  Every so often her body would spasm in pain.

“Mr. and Mrs. Milton?” inquired a tall, harried woman in a white coat. “I’m Dr.  Matthews.  Would you like to come with me?”

“Is everything okay?” I asked, my voice trembling a little as I spoke.

“We’ll discuss it in the treatment room,” said Dr. Matthews.  The doctor’s reassuring aura warmed me; though tired she still exuded a serenity I felt was tangible. “This way.”

She strode the long hall, pausing briefly as she realized I was guiding Beth through a new environment.  The doctor showed no impatience or embarrassment, she simply raised her eyebrows and smiled a little.

“Are you okay there?” asked Dr. Matthews.

“Yeah, we’re fine, Doctor, thank you,” answered Beth with her customary grace.  Dr. Matthews nodded.  Walking ahead she opened a door and allowed us to enter first.  The room was small but functional.  With space at a premium in this city the room was surprisingly welcoming and clean.  We sat down and waited as Dr. Matthews looked at a chart on her desk.

“What’s wrong with me, doctor?” asked Beth.  She had never been one to hide from the truth. 

“It’s nothing to worry about, Mrs. Milton, you’ve got a urinary tract infection,” assured Dr. Matthews.  “Quite severe.  Antibiotics will clear it up.”  Dr. Matthews handed Beth a prescription.

“That’s all it is?” I asked, my own mind made me suspicious at times and while I had no reason to disbelieve the doctor I found it hard to believe that something so common place could cause so much pain. “My wife’s in agony!”

“I know, Mr. Milton, but pain is a warning,” said the doctor.  “The worst pain can be caused by fairly commonplace illnesses.  I promise your wife will be fine.  I read her files and double checked the results because she has existing conditions and I’m confident that the antibiotics will clear it up.”  Dr. Matthews smiled confidently at me.  “Obviously, if you have any other concerns, you know where we are.  But the infection will pass and neither your wife nor your baby will suffer any side effects.”  Baby? I thought she said
baby
!

Beth’s hand tightened against my upper thigh; she rested it on my leg on occasions when she needed reassurance but felt a little self-conscious about holding my hand, it was an odd little quirk that I adored and found amusing.

              “Dr. Matthews, excuse me, did you--?” asked Beth incredulously.

“Both you and the baby will be fine,” said Dr. Matthews softly.  “Even at this early stage the infection is nothing to be concerned about.”  She paused.

“That’s impossible,” said Beth, her quavering voice was laced with hope.

“You didn’t know?” asked the doctor.

“I have a condition that means that I can’t get pregnant,” replied Beth.  Doctor Matthews looked a little embarrassed and then she glanced at the clipboard, chewing her bottom lip and nodding a little.

“Right, sorry, I missed that you said you weren’t pregnant on your admission form.”

Neither Beth nor I wished to cause a fuss.  We knew from experience how hard doctors work, particularly city hospital doctors.  Under normal circumstances neither of us would have been at all annoyed at the doctor.  We had always wanted children.  But the idea that Beth could get pregnant was one we had dismissed after many tearful consultations and soul-shattering conversations.  Back then my demon had been less consuming for a time and so to find out in such an offhand manner that we were going to be parents blew my mind.  I found rage beginning to rise in my heart, burning up my throat and through my mind.  Along with my rage came the sweeping darkness that always followed.  The Shadowed Soul wanted redemption for the perceived slight.

“So, you’ve made a mistake, then?  She’s not pregnant?”  The words purred low and gravelly from my lips, in an effort to disguise the turmoil that flared through me.

“No, Mr. Matthews, both blood and urine tests prove it.  Your wife is in the early stages of pregnancy.”  Dr. Matthews paused, a little crease developing between her eyes. “Am I getting the sense from you that this bad news?”

“You tell us?” I snapped at Dr. Matthews and Beth squeezed my thigh sharply.  I had no right to attack the doctor. 

“Well, with Mrs. Milton’s condition her pregnancy will be frequently monitored but there’s no real cause for concern.”

“We were told I couldn’t get pregnant,” said Beth, beginning to cry.  “We were told it was impossible.”

“Mrs. Milton, the condition you have sometimes makes pregnancy difficult, impossible for some,” said Dr. Matthews.  “But there’s a percentage who can conceive and you clearly are one of them.”

The nurse gripped my arm and handed me a paper cup of water with her other hand as we stepped into the delivery room.  Immediately I dropped the cup, spattering water, as I was met by the oppressive atmosphere and cries of pain from Beth.  Whether it was the effect of the heat or that my wife was still suffering, I wasn’t sure; as the door shuttered behind me, my resolve evaporated.  Misery in Beth’s eyes told me something had gone gravely wrong.   While I had been in the corridor wrestling with the stunted coward that devoured my soul, my wife had been suffering terribly.  As I looked beyond Beth’s face to the focal point of the medical team, the abundant sight of Beth’s blood shook me to the core.  I hated myself.

“Beth!  Are you okay?” I gasped, reaching for her hand, and stroking her hair.

“Oh, Thomas,” fat tears of agony rolled down Beth’s cheeks.

“Is the baby okay?” I demanded, addressing the doctor.

“Complications, Mr. Milton,” stated the doctor as he barked orders to his staff. “We have to perform a Caesarian Section to remove the baby.  Now.”

The pitocin had caused severe internal bleeding.  The team could not identify the source.  Beth would bleed to death if we waited for the baby to transition naturally through the birth canal.  Slicing through the abdominal wall was the only means to save mother and child.

What followed was lost to me.  All I could think was that either Beth or the baby would die.  That was how my life worked.  Everything that I touched was destined to wither and die.  Nothing was safe from the blight of me, as my shadow infected everything that it touched.  The doctor droned on, white noise to my struggling thoughts.  I gazed at Beth’s tearful face and wanted to scream at her, berate her for being stupid enough to have chained herself to me.  I had already ruined my own life and now I was slowly causing hers to decay, and that of my child.  Our child was going to die before even being awarded a chance at a life and it was my stupid fault.

“Mr. Milton?  Are you okay?  More water?” The doctor stared at me and I drew myself into the reality of the situation.

“I’m fine,” I mumbled.  “Beth?”  I touched her face.

“The Caesarean’s the only chance…” whispered Beth, barely able to finish her sentence as she heaved in pain from the pitocin’s aggressive effect on her contractions.  “…chance…that he has.”

“
He
?  Who?  The doctor?”  I frowned, baffled by the maelstrom of activity swirling around me, causing me to lose focus.

“Our son, Thomas.  C-section’s the only chance our son has.” Beth and I entwined our fingers.  My bright boy soul sighed contentedly as a spark ignited in me and a curious feeling of completion wrapped me in its arms, cutting through the wraiths and creatures that clouded my mind and body.

“It’s a boy!”  I smiled and nodded as the frenzy of doctors and nurses prepared Beth for surgery.  “I won’t leave you, Beth.  I promise I won’t leave you.”

CHAPTER TWO

The floor tilted.  I lurched helplessly into a situation in which I had no traction.  Terrified that my wife was about to be sliced open and my son,
my son
, yanked into the world, I reeled.  Logically, I knew that this had to happen.  Emotionally, it felt wrong.  How could this be right?  My beautiful, brave wife getting pregnant had been a miracle, but now to be opened by a scalpel.  I was falling through the floor.

“Increase the morphine drip!” ordered the doctor, a tall balding man who struck me as too young and too old at the same time.

“Yes, doctor,” said the nurse, as I keeled over and hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. 

“Get him out of here!” shouted the doctor.  Briskly, an orderly scooped me up and deposited me in a chair.  Smelling salts and the worried expression in Beth’s eyes propelled me to stand again.  “Keep him seated!”

Blood seemed to be everywhere.  The doctor removed a blood drenched hand from Beth.  Both my wife and son were in serious danger.  If they went then I would be a shadow of a wraith unattached to the physical world, empty, transparent, hovering amongst the living.  Already, I loved my child deeply.  From the moment of Dr. Matthews’
blunder
, a powerful desire had sprung forth inside me to ensure that this child would be welcomed into a safe and caring home.  As my powerful feelings grew, so did the monster that clawed viciously at my mind, vying for my attention.  I swore to myself, to my wife, to my child that I would keep the voracious creature at bay.  So often I feared my mission was not possible while the abyss called to me.