Regret Me Not (26 page)

Brayden strokes my hair and kisses my forehead. I can't respond. I can't take my eyes off our son.

It should've been me.

I wish I could go back to the moment it happened and trade places with him. If I died, they would've taken him from my body immediately and he would've had a chance to live. Brayden would love him enough for the both of us. I feel arms around me, holding me tight. It doesn't even register that Brayden might need consoling, too. I just sit rocking back and forth with our son in my arms.

"Kenzie," Brayden's strained voice cracks as he says my name. It all registers, but I'm unable to respond. I pull Julian's body closer to mine. I'm afraid once I let go of him, they'll take him away and I'll never have a chance to hold him again. "Please, Kenzie, please say something."

I can't. My mouth is too dry. I'm trying to pass my strength on to Julian. It's not working. Nothing is working!

Brayden's chest is heaving. I don't look up, I don't dare. He loved our child, before I did. He was willing to give up his whole life, all his dreams, everything he worked for before I even
considered
doing the same. Unlike me, he loved our son from the moment he was conceived. I wonder if he blames me. Either way, it was me that failed Julian.

My body.

My cold heart.

I wonder if Brayden hates me as much as I hate myself.

He clears his throat, "Mackenzie." I hear it in his voice, the distance, the anger.

For the first time I turn to him. His eyes are wet with tears, his face betrays his pain. I want to reach out to him, hold him tight, but I can't. With a grimace and a whimper, I pull myself closer to the side, further away from him. A searing pain shoots like hot knives across my stomach. I look down at the empty spot on the bed then back at him. Understanding, he climbs in next to me, wraps me and Julian up in his arms and buries his face in my hair.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispers. "I'm so, so sorry."

Together, we lay in bed huddled together, holding Julian close, and cry. Neither of us says anything. There's no point. Words won't make it better or change the fact that all our hopes and plans of being a family evaporated like vapor into thin air.

Chapter 27

Saying Goodbye

Every time I think I'm cried out, I'm fast to find out I'm wrong. My body's water supply seems to be unending.

"Are you okay?" Brayden asks climbing out of the bed.

"I don't know."

He runs his hand through his hair, "Um, Kenzie, I think it’s time to let our families in."

My eyes fall to Julian. I can't believe this is the only time I'll ever get to hold him.

"I mean they've been waiting out there for a long time. They're worried about you." He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes before continuing. "And I'm sure they want to say goodbye to Julian."

Say goodbye. How dare they! It sounds to me like they want to wrap this up and compartmentalize it in a nice little box. I can't do that, and the thought that they can feels like steel wool grating against my skin.

"I don't know if I can do this."

"Hey, look at me," his voice is soft, smooth. He holds my face with both hands. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. We'll get through it together. If it gets to be too much, let me know and I'll kick everyone out."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

*

The door opens a crack. Brayden peeks in. His eyes meet mine. He must be checking one last time to make sure I'm up to the onslaught that's about to begin. I nod, and the door opens wide.

Brayden takes his place at my side, with Jessica close behind. Once my sister's eyes meet mine, I lose track of everything else. She still hasn't told me what exactly happened with Mike to knock her down from the pedestal she stood on her whole life, but it doesn't matter. She knows what it's like to wake up and find the world as she knows it is destroyed. It's not the same, but out of everyone in the room, Jessica knows what its like to become completely enveloped by guilt and despair. She's also the only one I know of that picked herself up and moved on.

"May I?" Brayden leans down and reaches for Julian. He swallows hard waiting for my answer. I don't know how long we stare at each other. No one moves, no one breathes. I know I should hand him over, but I don't want to. I don't want to ever let him go. With one last embrace, and one last gentle kiss on his head, I take care in lifting him up to his father.

Like she knows I hit rock bottom, Jessica takes my hand in hers. "I promise I'm going to help you through this. I'm going to make it better."

I groan.

"I mean it, Kenzie. Trust me."

I squeeze her hand, glad that for the moment, everyone else is gathered around Brayden and away from me. After a few minutes, my parents come around to the other side of my bed. Mom's eyes are red and swollen, Dad has his arm around the small of her back.

"How are you doing, honey?" my mother asks.

I sniffle, not sure if I can answer.

Jess shakes her head, "Mom."

"I know. I'm sorry that was insensitive of me. Kenzie, I love you."

My father looks down at me stone faced, and runs his hand over my hair. He knows I always loved people playing with my hair. It's sends comforting signals throughout my body  to relax and take life down a notch. There's no relaxing now. I'm not sure I'll ever feel comforted again.

I don't want to deal with my parents. I wish Brayden was back at my side. He's over by the portable crib with his parents. His father has him wrapped up in a warm embrace. I can't hear what he's saying, but the wedge driven between Bruce and Brayden seems to have magically dissolved. I'm glad. Although he'd never admit it, I know Brayden needs to feel that love and approval from his father. There's a tiny part of me that's jealous. I feel like I am devoid of anything to offer my husband. I wish I had the ability to ease the ache in his heart. Instead, I know I'm the cause of it. 

Not wanting to deal with my parents or reality any longer, I close my eyes, wishing everyone would leave. I understand I'm not in this alone, and right now especially, I can't be selfish. Brayden needs them here to replenish his strength. I welcome the encroaching darkness and allow it to lead me away. It swirls around in my head and for a few minutes. I tune everyone out and pretend my life is still on track.

*

I hear someone in the room. I don't open my eyes immediately, certain either it's Brayden, or someone Brayden will get rid of. Not wanting to deal, I feign sleep. Facing our families drained me. I did my best to avoid them as much as possible. I slept until their hushed tones grew and woke me, and then I'd hold onto Jessica's or Brayden's hand.

I wish whomever it is leaves. These are the last minutes I'll ever have to spend with my son. They want us to make a decision about his permanent resting place. I can't wrap my head around it, not when we set everything up and planned on taking him home. We have to decide soon. Besides, I'll be released in the morning. It feels more like getting kicked out. I don't mind Jessica or Brayden being here, but that's it, no one else. I asked Brayden to call Olivia for me. It's one less time I'll have to say the words out loud.

I don't recognize the steady breathing pattern of whoever is in the room. I wonder if it's Carlos. I know he was here well into the night to support Brayden and Jess, even though he never made it into the room. I should thank him. He tried to help by tackling me so the car didn't hit us. I almost wish it did, and then maybe I wouldn't feel this desperate pain.

Knowing I can't hide away any longer, I open my eyes. A man sits in a chair across the room with dark hair. He's leaning over, reaching for something on the floor. I press the button on the side of my bed raising myself to a sitting position. The man looks up and I don't immediately recognize him.

"Hello, Mackenzie."

I squint my eyes trying to make out who he is.

"I'm sorry. Maybe if I wore my usual uniform with the white collar you'd be able to place me."

"Collar?" I look at what the man is wearing. He's dressed in a pair of basketball shorts and a tee shirt. No one wears a collar besides . . . "Father Mario?"

He smiles. "Sorry, I came straight from the gym. The other Mrs. Turner asked me to stop by."

"Why? So you could rub it in and tell me how this is God's way of punishing me?"

That wiped the smile right off his face. Good. The last thing I want to hear about is God.

"No, Mackenzie, of course not. Why would you think you're being punished?"

"You know why." My body trembles. I allow the anger and pain I've bottled up to spill over as I lash out at the priest. "Because we had sex, because we weren't married when I got pregnant."

"If that were true, there would be a lot less people in the world. Think of all the babies born to unwed mothers, or the ones that are the result of extramarital affairs. Mackenzie, God isn't about punishment. He's a loving father. He wants us to feel safe and happy."

"I hate your God."

I wait for a reaction. I want him to get mad and just leave me alone, but he doesn't blanch. Damn it! I want him to hurt, too.

"How could any loving being kill an innocent baby?"

"God doesn't kill. And I can assure your son is being cradled in his arms right now."

"I should be with him!" Tears stream from my eyes. "He should be cradled in my arms. Or Brayden's. I never even got to hold him. Not for real."

"What do you mean not for real?"

I ball my hands into fists. Where the hell is Brayden? He's supposed to be the buffer between me and the rest of the world. I don't want to do this. I don't want to hear anything this man has to say.

"Mackenzie?"

"I only held him after he was dead," tears stream from my eyes. "And when I was dreaming.

"Can you tell me about your dream?" Father Mario approaches the bed. He hands me the box of tissues lying on the night table, and takes hold of my hand. "Please?"

When I look into his eyes, they are soft and gentle. For a brief moment I feel as if he really does care about my son and me. I let the words spill from my mouth as I tell him everything I know. How my heart stopped for two minutes and about the dream I had during that time.

"Don't you see, Mackenzie, you
were
with Julian."

I don't say anything. I just sniffle.

"God knows how much you love your son, and he wanted to give you a moment to experience what it's like to be in His presence. The warmth, the light, the peace. That is what it's like to be with God. And he allowed you to escort Julian to him so that you would know your son is at peace, that he isn't in any pain. He isn't suffering. He isn't alone or abandoned. He is loved and cherished in the arms of the father."

I am so desperate for an explanation, for comfort I allow his words to resonate in my mind. He plants a seed of hope in a barren field of drought that knows nothing but death and darkness. But it
’s only a seed and I'm not sure if the sunshine will find it, or if it will die under a dark and threatening sky.

"Mackenzie, I know you struggle with your beliefs. I'm not here to try and force anything on you. I'm here to help you."

I shake my head. "There's nothing you can do."

"May I plan the funeral?"

"Funeral?" I had no intention of planning a funeral.

"We don't have the money . . ."

"That's where I come in. It won't cost you anything. Just maybe a letter of thanks, and perhaps a batch of cookies. For my friend. He's a funeral director, and I'm fairly certain he will donate everything we need."

It's an offer I can't refuse. What else am I supposed to do with my son? Taking advantage of the kind priest's generosity, I ask him the question I keep asking myself.

"Why did this happen? Why was his life meaningless?"

"If you believe as I do that life begins at the moment of conception, you'll realize the profound effect your child had on you and his father. I'd hardly say that's meaningless."

"You know what I mean."

He nods. "And I respectfully disagree. I know that you were terrified of how he would change your life. That's normal for someone in your situation. I also know that he drastically changed the course of Brayden's life. He gave Brayden the strength and courage he lacked."

"How?"

"Brayden finally said no."

"No?"

"To football. He's known for a couple of years he wanted out. I think it was after his third concussion he admitted it to me."

He never mentioned concussions, or any other injuries. I listen with renewed interest.

"He needed someone to talk to that wouldn't judge him. He never felt comfortable enough going to his father, he was afraid he'd disappoint him. He said he wanted to do something that would make a difference in the world. Being a football player wasn't the kind of impact he wanted to make."

A new wave of guilt overwhelms me. I realize while Brayden has been everything for me, I haven't been nearly as much for him. I failed him. "Do you know how many times he told me, or tried to tell me? I never got it."

"It's okay. I think you did get it, even if you didn't realize it. It's part of why he loves you so much."

"He loves me?
He loves me
? I can't talk to him. I can barely look at him!" I spit the words out with vitriol. "He didn't sign on for this, and I sure as hell don't deserve Brayden."

I turn toward the door to my room. I thought I saw it open. It's still closed. My eyes must be playing tricks on me, either that or the drugs they have me on are too damn strong.

*

Jessica bounds into my room carrying a large bag on her shoulder and two large cups of my favorite iced coffee drink.

"Thought you might like this," she hands me a cup and I'm more than happy to accept it.

"Where's Brayden?"

She shrugs, "I thought he was with you. I didn't think he left your side."

I yawn, "He's been gone since I woke up."

"Maybe he's in the bathroom?"

"For hours? Besides, why wouldn't he use this one?"

She shrugs.

"What's in the bag?"

I see the look in her eye, she's unsure of herself. "I brought some things from home." She hesitates before reaching inside the bag and pulling from it the blue and white outfit I planned to take Julian home in.

"Why? Why would you do that?" I'm not sure if the sudden blow has me angry or ready to spend another few hours crying.

"Listen, Kenzie, I did a lot of research yesterday. You should dress him."

I shake my head. The idea sounds sick and morbid to me.

"It's a way of coming to terms and saying goodbye. It's part of the grieving process. Dress him and take pictures of him, with him. Once he's gone you can never get this chance again."

"I don't know."

"I'll help you. If it's too much I'll do it for you. Just please don't say no."

I give my sister's idea a chance. It beats lying in bed and staring at his unmoving body. And it’s better than letting my mind run rampant with fears of why Brayden has suddenly gone MIA.