Chapter 7: the miscarriage 2

I gasped, doubling over one hand flying to my stomach.

"Eleanor?" Marcus's voice changed, fear creeping in. "What's wrong?"

"I don't" Another cramp, stronger this time. Radiating through my abdomen in waves that made my knees buckle. "Oh god."

I felt it before I saw it. Wetness between my legs. Warm and wrong.

I looked down.

Blood.

Soaking through my dress Running down my legs.

"No." The word came out as a whimper. "No no no no."

"Oh my god." Marcus grabbed me as my legs gave out. "Eleanor, we need to get you to a hospital"

The baby." I clutched his shirt, my hand leaving bloodstains on the white fabric. "Marcus, the baby"

"I know, I know Come on." He was already pulling out his phone, calling emergency services, but his voice sounded distant. Everything sounded distant.

Another cramp, vicious and relentless.

I felt something shift inside Something ending.

"No," I sobbed. "Please no. I'm sorry I'm sorry, baby, I'm so sorry"

"An ambulance is coming," Marcus said, and was he crying? I couldn't tell. 

Couldn't focus. "Just hold on, okay? Just hold on."

But I couldn't hold on.

I'd been holding on for so long and my grip had finally slipped.

I felt it leave me felt my baby, the tiny life I'd been protecting, the only good thing left in my marriage slip away in a rush of blood and tissue and unbearable pain.

"No," I keened, collapsing fully now. "No, please not my baby. Please not my baby."

Marcus caught me, lowered me to the floor of the hotel room where he'd been with his mistress, and I bled onto the expensive carpet while the world went grey around the edges.

The last thing I remembered before the paramedics arrived was looking up at Marcus this man I'd loved, this man who'd destroyed me and seeing real fear in his eyes.

Not for me or for himself but for what he'd done.

The hospital room was too white. I lay in bed, one hand on my now-empty stomach. No more flutter of movement. Just emptiness.

The doctor had explained I’d experienced a complete miscarriage. That the fetus had stopped developing around thirteen weeks. That sometimes these things just happened.

But I knew the truth. I’d failed to protect my child.

“Eleanor?” Marcus stood in the doorway, looking haggard.

“How are you feeling?”

I laughed brittle, sharp. “Our baby is dead.”

He flinched.

“Our baby is dead. And I don’t know who to blame anymore.”

“This isn’t your fault. The doctor said it had already stopped developing weeks ago”

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out of this room. Get out of my life. I want a divorce.”

“We should talk about this. We’re both emotional”

“There is no ‘we.’ There hasn’t been in months. Maybe there never was. Please. Just go.”

Silence. Then footsteps.

“I really am sorry. About all of it.”

I didn’t respond. The door closed.

I lay in the too-white room, one hand on my empty stomach, and felt the last piece of my old self die along with my baby.

Zara came two hours later.

“Oh, honey.” She climbed into the hospital bed beside me and pulled me into her arms. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I cried for my baby. For my marriage. For the life I’d thought I’d have.

“What do I do now?” I whispered.

“You move forward. One day at a time And I’ll be right beside you.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You will. I promise. And when you’re ready, we’re going to remind you that you’re more than his wife. More than a mother. You’re you. And you’re magnificent.”

I wanted to believe her. I just wasn’t sure I remembered who I was anymore.

BACK TO PRESENT 

The broken wine glass lay on the white kitchen floor. Red wine soaked into the floor tiles like a blood stain.

Upstairs, I heard the shower start. Marcus was washing away whatever or whoever he was with tonight.

My hands shook as I grabbed my phone. I called Zara.

“Hello?” Zara’s voice was excited, music loud in the back.

“Zara? Where are you?”

“Babe? What’s wrong? I’m at Eden, that club in West Hollywood. Are you okay?”

“Can I come? I need to get out of here.”

“Of course. I’m in VIP. Tell the doorman you’re with Zara Williams.”

I grabbed my bag and keys and walked out the door. I didn't clean the glass. I didn't leave a note. I didn't say a word to the man upstairs who ruined more than just wine tonight.

Eden was packed with people, flashing lights, bodies dancing close. I never go to places like this anymore. I found Zara in the special VIP area. Drinks came fast.

“What happened?” Zara asked.

“He forgot our anniversary. Came home at ten. Went to that place Lucia’s without me.”

“That jerk.”

“I don’t think he’s ever going to change, Tash.”

Zara looked angry. “So why are you being loyal to a man who isn’t loyal to you?”

The question hit me hard.

“If he can cheat,” Zara said, “then you can too. Look around, Eleanor. Any guy here would be happy to be with you. Why do you follow rules he broke months ago?”

The bartender brought small glasses of alcohol (shots).

I looked at the glass, then at the crowd of people dancing like they didn't care. I drank the shot fast.

Three drinks later or maybe five? I lost count. I was dancing.

Zara’s phone rang 20 minutes ago for a work problem. She said "10 minutes" and left to take the call.

Someone offered me a small blue pill earlier. “It makes everything better,” they said. I was drunk and sad, so I took it.

Now the music felt like it was inside me. The lights were bright colors. I felt strong and brave.

Hands touched my waist. Some guy pulled me closer. I let him. Another set of hands grabbed my hips from behind. Two guys now. The part of my brain that usually yells "Danger!" was quiet and slow because of the drug and alcohol.

“Come upstairs with us,” one said, his hand moving down my body. “We have a private room.”

“Okay,” I heard myself say. A part of me knew this was bad, but I didn't care.

They started pulling me to a dark hallway, holding my arms tightly.

Then a hand grabbed my wrist. Hard. Strong.

I stumbled back into a solid chest that smelled like wood and expensive whiskey.

“She’s with me,” a voice said behind me. Deep and strong.

“Fuck off, man.” 

“Do you want me to call security and explain how you dragged a drunk woman to a private room?” The voice got quiet and dangerous.