The Sharpest Lives Ch. 15

Cruel

You are cruel.

There is nothing wrong with you. You have never had any reason to be, but you choose to be, so that makes your sins the worst.

You don't lack kindness, but you don't apply the balm enough. What you give that others perceive as kindness, is a placebo. It works for them, most of the times. They dance to your tune, until you're bored, or the effect wanes off. Then you sting them dead.

Better dead than suffering, as you like to say.

I always knew you never loved me from the beginning. I was probably some odd project, an experiment to fuel your narcissism. 'How much can I make a person like me?', 'like' here meaning to both emotional attachment and making someone into a version of yourself. You admitted something like that yourself.

When I figured it out, I thought you were just plain mad. Then I realized, in your mind, the only person who can truly love you, was 'another' you. No one else was that deserving, but no one else like that existed, unfortunately. I was the perfect canvas- lonely, meek, yearning desperately for someone as well...

I feel lucky it happened. You knew I was suffering in a way, locked up in myself and you had the kindness to cure it, by investing yourself honestly in me. Trying to love me must have been your ultimate sacrifice, or more proof of your insane conceitedness. Whatever the motive, I'm indebted to you. That's why I always gave in to you. I always knew you needed control over both of us.

But control is such an odd thing, you know? Nobody can control anything, not even themselves, much less another.

What I'm sure of, is you. You are more real to me than the world itself. Even if you stop existing, even if you were to walk away, a part of you has attached itself to me, and I'll never let it go...

I want to give something to you in return. But you make it difficult for me to do anything for you.

You must be laughing, thinking, what can this little rabbit do for me?

I can give you what you never even gave yourself. Kindness.

I wish you were at least kind to yourself, as you are to me. I don't need it. I have plenty who will love me, after you're gone. But you know this- you will always be by yourself, watching your puppets play, stuck chasing your own tail, and you'll be bored, lonely, until the end. Does that sound like something you really want?

Is there no way to fix you?

When I saw you struggle that night, I felt the culmination of all your misdeeds fall upon your head. It looked like you learned your lesson. I wanted to go through with it anyway. I wanted to show you what you had made me into, I wanted to do what you did to me - test your faith that you would still love me after what I had done. I wanted to complete the 'revenge', but I didn't. Instead I asked everyone to leave.

Sam dragged you to the bed, ashamed about the whole thing, and I reminded him that he just put into motion something that was already in my mind.

I just wanted to cripple you enough to show how weak you actually were.

As I watched you stir uneasily in my arms in your helpless state, I wondered about us.

When you woke up and said you loved me, I knew...

I can live with you causing me pain. I can suffer and I will forgive, because I am strong. But you are not. You never have been.

Yet, I Iove you too much to let you suffer even a bit... your pain hurts me as well. But I cannot keep playing this game with you. Someone else needs me as well now.

I can leave you. I will take my son, and you will never see us again. I know I'll be fine on my own. And if I die, it's really not a problem. I'll be free of this, and my baby will find others who will love and take care of him. We'll be fine.

And you?

It's your decision now.

--------

Liam folded the paper again. The creases were starting to form deeper, aided by his sweaty hands. How many times had he read it?

First, when he spotted it in her hand. He had woken up suddenly, because she was not moving enough. Shealways moved in her sleep. She was on her side beside him, cradling one arm to her side, while the other arm rested straight, holding the letter. He glanced at her, and gently pulled it away. He really wanted to know what she had been writing all this while.

The first time he read it, he didn't understand anything. By some odd compulsion, he tried to rouse her. She didn't wake up, no matter how he shook her.

The paper was left forgotten in his pocket as hysteria set in, as he then tried to make sense of fears and actions and decisions. She will be fine. No one could have guessed this, and yet he still had a plan, had the doctor's number, had people inside he knew personally, had everything ready. She was going to be fine.

The second time he read it was just after she was taken into the operating room. He took a seat in one of the armchairs, sitting back, eyes closed, willing his heart to calm down. He then remembered the puzzling letter, and so read it again. Some distraction, better than none.

"Sir?"

He looked up to find the nurse liaison standing by. She wore a slightly worried expression.

"We will deliver the baby first, since she does not seem to be having seizures."

"That is a good thing, right?" he asked.

"Erm, yes." She looked sheepish for a moment. "How long was she unconscious?"

"We were asleep," he replied.

"I mean, did you feel her move violently- why did you wake up?"

"I woke upbecause she wasn't moving."

"Oh.."

Liam looked at her. She looked young, probably a trainee, and she probably needed to return back with some answers. He sighed.

"We went to sleep at 11.45 p.m. Around 1 a.m., I felt her move last, and when I woke up, it was just 1.20 a.m."

"So, she was unconscious for 20 minutes?"

"I guess so."

"You thought something had happened because she did not move in 20 minutes during her sleep?" Now she sounded slightly awed, slightly confused. Liam looked at her, and instead settled for a smile.

"I know my wife well," he said calmly. "Is there anything else you need to know from me?"

"No. Thank you," she whispered, as she crept back into the theater.

He then took out the letter a third time, read it, and folded it again, and noticed his palms were sweaty. He stood up, stretched, and walked out of the waiting room.

There was a sort of a balcony adjoining the corridor. He tried the sliding glass door, and it moved. He stepped out into the cold, and ran his fingers through all his pockets again, feeling for the familiar touch of his lighter and cigarettes.

He found two lighters and an almost finished pack in his jacket. "Ah," he intoned, as realization dawned on him. He had bought a new plasma lighter, as a sort of a birthday gift to himself. He had last worn this jacket at the end of fall, when it was getting chilly.

He remembered how she had cuddled up against him, thrusting her small hands into the sleeves of his jacket to keep warm. He had grasped her cold fingers inside his sleeves, trying to rub them back to life. "Want me to make a little fire?" he asked, touching his nose to her cold one.

"Liam, you can't make a fire here!" she whispered, as though scandalized. They were sitting in a park.

He smiled. Whenever she said, 'You can't-', it just triggered something in him. Maybe his brain thought, that if I could show her that I can... she'd be impressed.

He swiped his foot on the ground, bringing together a small pile of leaves, while she looked around furtively, muttering under her breath.

"See what I bought," he said, snapping open his new lighter.

Her eyes widened as she watched the blue electric arcs criss-cross and hum with his clicks. He watched the little movements of her face, enjoying the effect he had on her.

"Can it really set things on fire?" she asked, as if mesmerized.

His heart fluttered a little at her tone. "Let's find out," he whispered conspiratorially.

She seemed to shake herself awake, back to practicality. "But what if we can't put it out? If it becomes too big?"

He smiled, as he remembered his answer. "At least, you'll be warm."

Liam lit up his cigarette, and watched the pale smoke dissolve into the inky background of the night sky. Kim liked it when he made smoke rings. She liked stupid, simple things like that- and then she liked Liam. Either he was an exception or just one of the same. Or...

How would he smoke while the baby was around?

Suddenly, he heard a knock. He turned around to see the nurse again, peering from across the glass door. He nodded, and she slid it open slightly.

"Your wife just delivered a baby boy," she said. He continued looking at her, waiting for more information. She looked awkwardly at him.

"How is he?" Liam asked finally.

"Not well," she admitted. "The neonatologist is trying to resuscitate him. He's alive, but... not breathing very well."

"Alright. How is Kim?"

"We are now giving her medications that might help her against seizures, but she's still not awake." Now the nurse watched Liam for his reaction.

"Okay." Liam turned back to the sky, his hands in his pockets, and touched the letter again.

What the hell is going on...

It made a little more sense after the fifth reading. She was just complaining about him, he thought as he walked up and down the narrow balcony. As usual, he thought, everyone does after a while. But what can he do about it? What did she want from him?

He started looking at the letter itself. She had used different pens for different parts- meaning she had been composing this for a time. But no strike outs, no mistakes- meaning she had thought out each part of it. Some places the writing was neat, and other places it looked shaky, as though she didn't have a good surface to write on.

Of course, he thought. She had been moving from place to place since then...

He kept kept folding and unfolding the paper for some reason. He was about to reach it for a sixth time when his phone rang. It was his mom.

"Liam! What's going on? I just got up to check on Bambi- I walk by and- neither of you are in! What's going on?" she repeated.

"Kim... went into labor." He couldn't muster the courage to tell her what actually happened.

"What? And you didn't..." she trailed off in exasperation. "How is she? How is the baby?"

"...not so good. Mom," he started, and his voice broke a little as he continued. "Can you come down here?"

For a second the line was silent. "Of course," she finally replied, her voice quavering.

After a while Liam stepped into the waiting room again, to find the same nurse looking around. A look of relief appeared on her face as she noticed him. Maybe, thought Liam, maybe Kim is... okay?

"So your baby is better now. He's breathing normally, moving, but we'll still keep him under observation, in the special ward-" she paused, noting the look on Liam's face.

"And Kim?" he asked.

"She's still unconscious. To be honest with you, we knew that she would stay in a coma when she was bought in in that state."

"The doctors said that her condition would be cured if the baby was out."

"Not if she had fallen unconscious before that. This is a complication no one could prepare for. And she was doing so well, almost reaching term..."

Liam rubbed his face with his hands. He wanted to scream.

"I'm sorry, sir," said the nurse softly. "You can visit your baby in the ward now, and after a while you can see your wife."

He followed her listlessly though the halls, giving in to the dull buzzing noise that was now in his head.

"It was a close call, but he made it," she told him as they walked along. "But he needs care regardless, due to the prematurity. I hope his mom gets better soon.. preemies do better with their mothers."

He was directed into a dark room, with rows of incubators sitting under the soft glow of overhead monitors. Little bodies rolled and moved languidly in their plastic boxes.

"Here he is," she whispered, motioning towards one.

Liam looked at it.

This? This was the thing that Kim was ready to die for? To leavehim for?

"Would you like to hold him?" she asked kindly, reaching for the lock.

"No," he replied automatically. She looked taken aback.

"I mean, not yet," he explained. "I... can't."

She nodded slowly. "I think in half an hour your wife will be shifted to the ICU. You can ask at the station where her room is."

He thanked her, and she left. Now, he turned to face the child again. It was asleep, lying flat on its belly.

This was Kim's child. His child, and he almost gasped out loud as it sank in- their child. Her dreams and his desires, made flesh.

And it- no- he was so small.

Why did he seem so big while inside? Liam moved his head this way and that, peering against the plastic cage, trying to figure out whom the baby resembled more.

He had fine, dark hair all over his body. Papery thin, red, wrinkly skin...Nothing like how Liam expected a baby to look like.

He recalled Kim always prattling about how she hoped the baby would look exactly like Liam. One day, he asked her why.

"I'd have two of you then," she replied, and suddenly blushed. Then she quickly added, "so when you're gone, it would be as though you never left."

Liam slid his hands into the gloves, and touched him. The baby turned a little, flexing its body away.

"Aren't we both in trouble," he said suddenly. "I can't live without her, and you won't live without her."

The baby seemed to open its eyes a bit, as though looking for the source of the sound.

"If she dies, what will we do, kid?" asked Liam, smiling despite himself. "You look smart,go on, tell me."

What is wrong with myself, he wondered. I'm asking a baby for answers.

He traced a finger over his smooth forehead head, over the soft, dark hair. "Neither of us really needs to live anyways... This world is full of shit. Believe me, I got no reason to lie to you."

The baby's hand suddenly swatted his finger, as if trying to move it away. Liam sighed. He pulled out his hands from the incubator.

"Do you want to hear what your mother said?" he said, taking out the letter from his pocket, resting his elbows over the incubator. Having someone else to talk to was actually calming. The more he did this, the less he can think about what was going on...

He read the letter to the baby, quietly talking things over as he rolled around aimlessly, now awake.

Liam's phone vibrated again. It was his mom. He looked at his child one more time, and left.

--------

"This is awful," whispered his mother, looking at Kim.

Liam sat beside the bed, on the sofa. He didn't want to look at the bed. It made him feel queasy.

Tubes, lines, needles, scars. Everything that she hated was done to her. His little rabbit was suffering.

"I did everything. I fixed everything. Why is this happening?" he asked quietly. His head was in his hands, looking down, pulling fistfuls of his hair to massage his scalp. The dull buzzing would just not go away.

He saw his mother's feet turn away from the bed, and turn towards him. He felt her hand on his head. "It's not something that you can control. We just have to hope she makes it out."

Liam thought about the letter in his pocket. After she wakes up, things might not still work out. He still risked losing her.

What did she mean? What did she want from him?

Cruel, he thought suddenly, and laughed. He managed to catch himself though, and it came out as a cough. His mother looked worriedly at him.

"Liam, you should get some rest," said his mom, pushing him into the sofa. He relented, falling back into the cushions, and closed his eyes.

Weak...

"If something happens, let me know. I'll be with the baby," said his mother. He heard the door close.

Revenge.

She had figured out that something might happen to her. Yet she never told anyone... was the baby such a toll on her? Or washe such a toll on her? Was it both of them?

Kindness?

If she didn't... wake up, his mother would keep the baby, he was sure of it. She wouldn't even bother taking Kim's parents into account. But he wondered if he could stand having the baby around.

What if she woke up... and the baby wasn't there? he wondered, and then laughed, for no reason. Then he became very quiet.

He suspected that there must be something very wrong with him.

--------

Everything sounded like alarm bells. Liam's eyes snapped open.

"Wh-what?" he said out loud, looking around. A whole gaggle of doctors were standing around in their room, talking among themselves.

"Oh, Mr. V, you're awake." said a voice. Liam turned to face the consultant addressing him.

"What's going on?" he repeated, his eyes scanning the monitors.

"The nurses reported movement. She's actually been weaning off the ventilator pretty fast, so we are thinking about letting her breathe normally instead of on the tube."

"That's... that's good," he managed to say. He honestly felt that was the best news he heard over the past few days.

"We will give her a little trial now, and if it goes well we'll remove it now. Can you please wait for a while outside until we are done?"

"Yes," he said immediately, getting up on unsteady feet. He walked around the corridor, not really sure of where to go, until he recalled he could go visit his son in the meantime.

Odd how things can change overnight, he wondered. But this was hardly overnight. He knew a baby was coming, he just couldn't really grasp the reality of it.

The automatic doors slid open, and he made his way to the incubator where his son lay.

They still hadn't decided a name, thought Liam, as he slid his hands into the gloves again. Would she take my suggestions, if she were to leave me?

"Hey," he called out. The baby looked up at him through the narrowed eyes of a drowsy slumber. "You're a heavy sleeper, like your mom," commented Liam. A nurse stopped by them, checking the clipboard hanging below the incubator.

"You have a very lazy baby," the nurse remarked to Liam, as he looked over the baby.

"Really? He's supposed to be more active?" Liam pushed the baby's trunk, as though trying to roll him over. The baby hardly reacted.

"We are a bit worried. He's quite early, it was a dangerous case, and he isn't gaining weight or moving as much as we like. Still..." the nurse shrugged, pushing a few buttons on the incubator.

"Why does he have a tube up his nose?" asked Liam.

"It doesn't go up his nose. It's just there, delivering oxygen," he replied, scribbling his notes onto the papers on the board.

"So he needs it then?"

"Yes, pretty much," he looked from his notes to look at Liam, and added, "but don't worry...we'll do our best."

Liam smiled weakly as the nurse left them alone again.

It was so easy to end this all. All this pain, tension, confusion... and most of all, the apprehension of a future that he never really considered. Pull out that tube, the baby would die, and they would fall apart. It was that simple. He can pick up his life from where he left off. Kim would be rid of him, as she wanted, and be free to do as she liked. His fingers trailed over the cannula.

Everything would be over, back to normal.

--------

Kim was crying, calling out to him. Was this a dream?

But he heard it again. He opened his eyes, trying to adjust his vision to the dim blue darkness.

"Liam."

Now he shot up, looking at the bed. Kim was moving, shuffling through her bed covers. He couldn't believe it.

"Kim?" he managed to say. He moved forwards, placing a hand over her cheek, the other reaching to hold her shaking hand. Her eyes were opening and closing, as if trying hard to focus, her eyes looking to and fro. She actually was crying.