A Glimpse of an Unwritten Story

I sat on the white bed, in the newly washed white sheets. Clean, that’s how everything smelled, how everything felt. But that’s not how I felt. I felt dirty and ashamed at what I had done.

I took a deep breath, but even that felt tiring. My whole body ached. I looked down at my arms, almost afraid what I would see. But, they had covered it up. They had wrapped my mistakes in clean white bandages just like the white sheets and white walls. I sat there thinking, this couldn’t get any worse, and then suddenly, it did.

I saw him.

I saw him as he pushed the hospital door open a little further, but when he stepped closer and I could see the pain on his face, in his eyes, I had to look away. But he only moved closer, until he was in front of me, hovering just far enough away that I could feel his presence, his warmth on my cold skin.

“Oh, baby..they called. I..I didn’t know...they wouldn’t tell me...What..what happened?” he finally asked, his voice full of urgency and confusion.

“I.. I am so sorry..”I cried, tears pouring down my face. That’s all I could say to him. He deserved so much more, but that’s all that I could manage.

“What did  you do?” he said moving closer, finally looking down at my arms. “Baby, did you try to..why? Why would you do that..?” he gasped.

“I just couldn’t do it..”

“Do what?” he asked, hands on my face.

“Decide. I couldn’t decide.”

“Decide what, love?” he asked more intently.

“I was just so scared..”

“Scared? Of what..? What’s going on?”
“I...I’m...” I felt stuck, unable to say the words. “Oh god,  you’re gonna hate me..”

“I couldn’t hate you.. There is nothing you could do. Nothing, that would make me hate you.”

“That’s not true,” I sobbed..

“Did you.. Did you cheat on me?” he asked.

“No, no of course not. I wouldn’t do that to you.” That would have been in my control. This, this just happened.

“Then what? What is it?” he persisted.

“I’m...” Just then the nurse barged in, her eyes cold, full of judgement. Or maybe not. Maybe I was just seeing it that way, projecting the way I would assume she would feel.

“Ma’am.. They said you asked..They wanted me to tell you that the baby is okay”

“Baby?” he said breathlessly. “You’re pregnant?” He looked at me, then down at my stomach. Elation, at first softly lit up his face, but then he caught a glimpse of my arms still bandaged, attached to wires and it all faded. “We were.. gonna have a baby, and you... you slit your wrists. You were going to take your life and our baby’s and you weren’t even going to tell me?” The words sound harsh,but his voice wasn’t. There was no anger, just pain and disbelief and disappointment. And that crushed me. Anger I could deal with, but disappointment... I felt like the room was spinning. I started speaking, knowing I needed to explain, but the words came out all jumbled. I am not really sure if they made sense, but I couldn’t help myself, I just kept going.

“I couldn’t decide. I didn’t know what to do...Either way, there was pain. Either way, I would lose someone. My family, they would never understand. They will kill me. Disown me. If I kept the baby, I would loose my family. They would never support me... I would loose my dad.. My dad, he, he didn’t talk to my aunt for eight years! For eight years and no one will tell me why, and this, surely, this is worse. He would never talk to me again. And maybe before I could have dealt because we didn’t talk before. We didn’t have a relationship. But now I do. We fixed it. Us. we talk now. I just got him back... We just fixed things and I would lose him. But if I had an..an.. If I didn’t keep the baby... if i had the procedure...I, I’ve seen how that takes a toll on someone, keeps you up at night, my mom had one.. Did I ever tell you that? Twins... both had mental and physical disabilities...doctors told her they would be in so much pain... at least her reason wasn’t selfish..Mine is.. And she still would wake up in the middle of the night crying, claiming she was hearing their screams.. And that, that would be so painful, but, but  I could deal with that, that and the guilt. I really think I could...I could deal with that..I would take that for the rest of my life, to keep my dad. But you.. You...? I couldn’t... I couldn’t imagine losing you. That would break me. That would destroy me... I can’t fathom that kind of pain...But that’s what would happen if I went through with it, because,  I knew it would break you.. because of your faith, your family and because of who you are. I couldn’t do that to you, I couldn’t do that to us. And I just felt stuck. So stuck. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like the walls were caving in, suffocating me and I just wanted it all to end.”

I looked down, unable to make eye contact with him, afraid to see that there was no more love for me, just pain. Pain, that I had caused him. And I couldn’t bare to see that in him for me. I waited for the anger, that I was willing to run away from it all. I waited for him to call me a coward for pushing my pain onto him. But it didn’t come. Just silence.

“I didn’t know what else to do..” I whispered. Time stopped, no one spoke. Machines buzzed. The air felt cold. I cried and so did he. And then suddenly... he spoke..

“I would have chosen you..” his voice raspy from all the crying. Was he telling me I should have chosen him over my dad? “You wouldn’t be you without your family. You wouldn’t be whole anymore if you didn’t have them. It would have made you feel empty. If you had told me, I would have wanted to keep you whole, with your family instead of the baby. I would have chosen you.”

“What?” I asked, breathlessly, in shock. Tears fell from my eyes.

“Your father may not have understood the pain you were feeling, the turmoil going on inside of you, but my father, the one up there, he has already paid for our sins... He would have understood...”

I looked at him in awe. How had this man, this wonderful man, put aside his beliefs, just to keep me whole, to keep me from being torn apart.

“I’ll come with you..” he said, laying down next to me, his arms wrapped around me.

“Come with me where?” I asked. He swallowed.

“For the procedure” he told me. I gasped. The abortion. Not only would he still love me, he would forgive me.. after all I did, but he would come with me... to support me..

“Oh god,” Something inside me broke, the dam, I think, that was holding back my tears. It broke and the tears came pouring out. My whole body was trembling, shaking as I sobbed into his chest. He held me tighter somehow, somehow not revolted by me, but comforting me. The thought of that only made me cry even more intensely.

I cried and I cried. I cried until the room slowly got brighter, the sun on the horizon, rising. I cried until there were no more tears left inside me. And he didn’t speak. He just brushed the hair out of my face wet with tears, and rubbed my back in circles.

Then finally I spoke, my voice raw. “I didn’t know what I wanted, because I was thinking out of fear. Fear of losing my dad, my family, or losing you. But you, somehow even in the midst of all of this, in a time where you could have acted out of anger, or pain... you acted out of love, selflessly. You said you would support me, even if it went against everything you believed in, just because you love me. And didn’t want to see me in pain...” He leaned in,  gave me a small nod and kissed my forehead.

“Whatever you need. I am here for you.”

How I See the World

They say I'm perceptive or intuitive because it's hard for them to fathom that I see something beyond what is there. No I am not just paying more attention or attaching more significance to smaller details that others are ignoring. No. It's not like that. Because when I see people I don't just see them. I hear them. I feel them. I embody them. Part of me becomes part of them. The way they think becomes the way I think. Their voice, their vision becomes mine. I can see what's behind the door they just cracked open even when all I can really see is the back of their head. I can see all of the things that had to happen for this moment to happen as if I lived them and I can see in the eye of my mind all of the things that could happen because of what is actually happening now. When I hear their voice in that moment, I can feel the resounding echoes left behind from the words spoken hours ago and draw from them the sounds of the words that are still to be spoken. Because those moments, the glimpses of those memories past or present don't just disappear. They create ripples in time and space that bounce back and forward from past to future to present creating imprints that can be absorbed and understood. 

So no, I don't just generalize or assume how people will act or treat one another. I see it. I feel it. All possible extensions of if. In that very moment, I live it all. Their past. Their present. Their future. Each indistinguishable from one another, intertwined and tangled in the mess of my mind, left for me to interpret and explain. Left for me to decide what should be said or unsaid. Leaving me to figure out which moments will help to explain or improve their relationships or which moments when exposed will explode like time bombs destroying everything in their path, including me. Because time is a sensitive thing. And it does not like to be bothered. 

But do not be mistaken. This is not the start of a story about a super hero or a genius. I am not special. I do not have powers or gifts. I simply see people as avatars in a game that I can choose to step into, to live their lives and feel their stories and then come back into my own. But I do not stay impartial as I think I was meant to. I hear their thoughts as my thoughts and yet my thoughts are better. I know their feelings as my feelings and still I can tell the difference because they can be distinguished if I let them. I allow my feelings to be felt stronger and my voice to be heard louder. I give more value and weight to the things that belong to me because suddenly I have forgotten that we are all one. I used to look at me and you and her and them and see different variations of the same being. I used to think that is me in a world and time where my life wasn't my life. But somehow now, the strings attached to the things I now call my own seem stronger and tighter, unable to allow my mind and my being to explore, to fathom what could and what might be, stopping me from understanding the actions and thoughts and words of others and limiting me to my own. 

So no, I am not special. I see everything you see. I feel it all too. I have just forgotten that me is you and you are me. Because why else would I cause pain to the people around me, if I remembered that we are all the same, an extension of one another, recreations of the same being, the same energy just spliced by time waiting to one day reunite.