I watch his face as the words take over, processing them in his own time. When he finally stands, I follow his movements, unsure of what to do until he speaks again.
Should I explain what happened, and why I kept it to myself?
Tell him what I went through?
I don’t know. I’m at a loss here. I had it all planned out, but nothing prepares you for pure devastation.
Jack starts pacing, his chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. “I don’t understand, Annabelle. I don’t understand,” he yells.
“Jackson,” I whisper. “I—”
“You what?” he bellows. “We had a baby?” His voice catches and tears pool in his eyes. I try to swallow the lump that lingers in my throat. Instead, I choke out the sob I’ve been holding back, his tears pushing me over the edge. “I… We had a baby?” he repeats.
He sits back down, so I follow his lead and position myself across from him. He rocks back and forth, grabbing at his hair in despair. It’s breaking whatever whole pieces are left of my heart to watch him like this.
After a moment, he runs his hands down his face and mumbles, “Explain.”
I pause, forgetting my words as the emotions and memories flood my vision.
“Annabelle,” he grits, growing impatient. “Start from the beginning.”
I grab my quilt and bunch it up in my hands for security, then take a deep breath to calm myself. “Ten weeks after I gave you my virginity, I found out I was pregnant while at Cambridge.” I pause again to collect myself. One sentence in and I’m already struggling.
This was one of the most challenging times in my life, so trying to replay something I’ve suppressed for nineteen years is not easy.
“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t call me. It’s me, Belle. Me—” He jabs a finger to his chest.
“Please, Jack,” I beg. “Let me finish, because this is not the story you probably have in your mind.” He finally sits back, and I take that to mean he’s ready to hear the rest. “I had an IUD, and it was typical that I would miss a period at times, so I didn’t think anything of it. Then one night, I woke up in severe pain. I couldn’t move, I had no idea what was happening, and I was rushed to the hospital.”
His face falls. “What?” he whispers.
I look down and clench my jaw, breathing through my nose. “I was bleeding internally and had something called a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. The egg never reached the uterus, and the baby started developing in my fallopian tube. When I got to the hospital, they rushed me into surgery, performed a laparotomy to stop the bleeding, and had to remove one of my fallopian tubes,” I choke out. Finally, I let the tears go. “There was no chance of survival for the baby, and if I hadn’t gone that day, I would have died alongside him.”
“Him.” He sucks in a breath.
I shake my head, wiping the tears. “It was too early to know. I-I always just called the baby him.”
His tormented eyes find mine. “God, Annabelle, my heart is breaking for you and what you went through. We lost ababy. I could have lost you…” He blows out a breath and shakes his head like he can’t believe it. “But the pain rippling through my body right now is taking over, and I’m not sure I can stop it. Why would you do this to me… to us? Why wouldn’t you tell me? Did you honestly think I wouldn’t have been there for you?”
“I wasn’t thinking straight—”
“You weren’t,” he spits.
I stare at him and continue, “No, I wasn’t. But I was young, so young, and had just undergone emergency surgery, only to find out I had a baby inside me that wasn’t alive. You were at university with your mates. Why would I want to burden your life too? The devastation was too much to handle for even one person.”
“Because—” He breaks off, and from how he says that one word, I can hear that his emotions are quickly turning to anger. Not that I blame him. He doesn’t know how else to express his hurt, and if I have to be his punching bag for now, so be it. I’m the one who caused him this pain, so I deserve the punishment. “It wasn’t your call, Annabelle. Out of all the fucked-up things you could do, you kept this from me? And the fact that you thought it would be a burden blows my mind. When have you ever been a burden? Not one fucking time in thirty years.” He walks over to the bar and slams back a scotch. “Tell me,” he grits out. “Who was there to care for you after you lost our baby, since it wasn’t me or I’m assuming my sister?”
“Mum, only Mum. No one else knows.”
He stiffens, and I can see the wheels in his head turning, calculating when this would have taken place. “Your mom? The woman who was in a deep depression at that time? The woman who only a month earlier couldn’t move you to Cambridge because she was in such a state? That mom? Or maybe the mom who left you stranded at the airport because she was so drunk she forgot to pick you up after your month-long holiday in the States?”
“Enough, Jackson.”
He’s breathing heavily through his nose. “Enough? Enough? I had a fucking baby, and you’re telling meenough?” He throws his head back and roars in anguish, “Whyyyy?”
“I’m so sorry.”
Why did I listen to Mum? She told me he would feel obligated to take care of me, to be bound to me since we shared a loss.
