Page 29 of Letting Go
He could’ve slapped me across the face, and I would have been less shocked.
“Oh really? I’m sorry my recovery isn’t looking like you thought it should, Trent. As soon as I stop bleeding, I’ll be sure to sign up for the next golf tournament at the club, so things appear more normal for you,” I say, my tone dripping in sarcasm. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“Now Vivian, you don’t need to cuss at me,” Trent admonishes me. “The tests didn’t indicate anything inherently wrong with the fetus so once you’re cleared from your OB, we’ll try again, okay? It’s going to be okay.”
“Our son,” I correct him.
“What?”
“You mean they didn’t indicateanything inherently genetically wrong with our son, Trent.” Trent rolls his eyes as I continue, “Not a fetus, our son. I carried him for sixteen weeks, we heard his heartbeat, and I will miss him for the rest of my life.”
“It’s the same thing, Viv,” he insists.
“It absolutely is not the same thing, you asshole,” I hiss as tears once again fill my eyes.
“You’re being unreasonable, Vivian. These things happen. It’s time to get back to our life,” he says.
“I think that sounds like a great idea. In fact, it’s time you get back to the hospital. There are plenty of patients there that want your professional opinion, Dr. Stone, and until you can talk to me like my husband and father of my children, you can keep your damn opinions to yourself.” I cross my arms and glare at him.
Trent huffs, shaking his head and looks up at the ceiling. “Bianca warned me you might be overly sensitive.”
“Oh, did she? How kind of her to warn you all the way from Boston,” I reply.
“I called her while you were in surgery, Vivian. She’s a world renowned maternal-fetal medicine specialist and fetal surgeon,” Trent explains. “She’s also one of my oldest friends and told me I needed to be prepared for you to be overly sensitive about things while your hormones and emotions regulate.”
“Fuck off, Trent. Seriously, fuck right off. It’s been nine days, and I am still bleeding from losing my baby. I don’t know how you can just act like it was a minor inconvenience. Who do you think you are talking to?” Maybe because of his medical background he can so easily switch off any feelings, but how can he already be over losing our son? I don’t understand how he’s not in bed wrecked right next to me.
“Honey,it’s a major deal for you. I get that. But we can’t dwell on that, we need to move forward, and Eloise needs us all to be able to get back to normal as soon as we can. All I’m saying is maybe take a shower, take Eloise to the park, go out to lunch, get a manicure. Let’s get back to some of our regular routine, I think it will help,” Trent tries to soothe me. “I have that conference next week in Boston and I need to know you’ll be okay with me gone.”
“Oh, we will be fine with you gone, Trent. We wouldn’t want to be an intrusion to your regular routine, right? I’m so sorry, it’s so inconvenient for a death to occur when you have a medical conference to attend.” I walk out of our bedroom and slam the bathroom door shut.
The memory washes over me like an unexpected bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Did Trent even have a conference in Boston that week or was he just having a tryst with his mistress? I wonder how many other times he lied to my face about his plans when they really involved his affair. How many times did he make me look like an absolute fool? Shaking my head, I am once again embarrassed by being so naive when it comes to his indiscretions. He was so … cold to me after the miscarriage, like it was an inconvenience to him to have his wife grieving our son. I remember being so disgusted and angry with him, not even recognizing the man who slept next to me in bed.
“Mama, watch me go down the slide! Come on!” Eloise snaps me back to the present as she hops off the swing and runs to the other side of the playground with a big smile on her face, even at seven-thirty in the morning. Eloise’s nightmare struck just after 3:15 a.m. and she didn’t sleep well after it. We were both awake at six and I decided to get an early start on our day. We went to Java Jive for breakfast, well Eloise went for breakfast and had a huge muffin while I had a giant iced latte with an extra shot of espresso.I watch Eloise climb the stairs on the playground to reach the taller slide at the top as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
MK
Morning, love! Does a park date still work for you today? Please say yes, I need to get out of my house. Drew is on that golf trip and I desperately need adult conversation!
I laugh as I reply to her text.
Me
Hi honey, I have you beat—we’re already here. Come when you can, we’ll see you soon!
MK reacts to my message with a heart emoji and I glance at the time. One of the perks of living in a small town, I know it will take her all of five minutes to get here from their small acreage just outside of town. Her husband Drew is some kind of financial guru without a farming bone in his body, but MK grew up on a farm just south of town. She always wanted space for their kids to run and play with a place for her to have horses so Drew delivered MK her dream.
Drew and MK are the ultimate couple. They are both individually so solid with strong personalities but the two of them are a true partnership in every sense of the word. Even though MK is a stay-at-home mom, Drew will be the first to point out his success is only because of her support and partnership. He frequently says, “I only have what I have because she has had my back and been by my side every step of the way.” They give me hope that noteveryone’s love story is a complete fallacy. Drew and MK are never allowed to divorce though, as it would shatter any remaining hope I have in happily ever after occurring in real life, instead of just in my favorite romance novels.
I know good guys still exist out there, like Drew, my brothers, or a certain handsome Special Agent Man that was not at all happy when he heard about the recent poem through the grapevine instead of directly from me. Walker and I spoke on the phone the day he found out about it. It was actually kind of sweet how he sounded like a growly bear on the phone. He had strongly worded opinions clarifying any confusion I may have had, and I now know to call him, whether embarrassed or not, if anything else happens. While I haven’t received a single text from his colleague Harlow, Walker sends almost daily text messages checking in, but they feel more personal than professional. Although I really don’t mind at all—in fact—I find myself looking forward to his texts. As if he can read my mind from Nashville, my phone vibrates with a text from the man himself.
Walker
Morning, Viv. How are y’all doing this morning? How did Eloise sleep last night? I tried that blended frappe you suggested this morning and I should send you my dentistbill for how sweet it was. Also, my assistant’s face when she saw me drinking it was downright laughable. Really should be called a blended bullshit.
Me
lol! Oh sorry, did you think I suggested that for you to enjoy it? I thought it would keep everyone else on their toes. Never know what to expect from you, Special Agent Man. It was a rough night—I think I’ve earned a super sweet caffeine concoction, even though Eloise is running around like she got a full night’s sleep.
