Anna.
I’ve been discharged. Jeremy had to miss one more day of kindergarten; they’ll probably call soon to ask for an explanation of why the child has so many absences. He’s thrilled, almost jumping for joy at not having to go there.
It’s five in the morning now, the three of us in the car. Jeremy is talking to Henry about the end-of-year performance, and soon they’ll be choosing the characters for the play. Henry isn’t paying the slightest attention, but Jeremy doesn’t seem to notice.
We were supposed to leave at nine in the morning, but Henry made such a fuss at the hospital that they let us go earlier. What did he hope to achieve with that? I don’t know. We haven’t spoken since yesterday. He didn’t apologize or come to my room until half an hour ago when he came to pick me up to go home. I notice him glancing at me several times while he drives, but he doesn’t say anything. I don’t want him to either. I have no desire to hear how much he loves me or that he’s sorry and a bunch of other things that have lost their meaning for me.
“Mom, are you still sick?” Jeremy asks, touching my shoulder from the back seat.
“No, sweetheart. I’m fine now.”
“Why are you sad then?”
“I’m tired; I need to sleep, and so do you. Don’t think you’ll get out of going today.”
“Oh, Mom, I don’t want to, please.” He starts to pout and cross his arms.
“Jeremy, you’ve missed too many days, you can’t keep doing this.” He starts whining, and I turn to look at him. “No tantrums; you know they don’t work with me.”
“Dad…” He looks at Henry and knows that calling him that will get to him.
“One more day won’t make a difference, Ann.” He starts saying, looking worried, and I want to kick him out of the car.
“Two things: don’t call me that, and if I say no, it’s no.” I limit myself to saying, looking out the window again.
“She’s angry,” Jeremy whispers in Henry’s ear.
“Tell me about it.”
When we arrived home, the first thing I did was kiss Jeremy on the head. “Go to sleep.”
He doesn’t say anything, just walks to the room, clearly defeated from losing his argument, and closes the door. Henry should go with him, but he stays.
“Can we…?” he starts to say, but I interrupt.
“No, we can’t. Go, I really need to rest.” I lie down on the couch and close my eyes, hoping he won’t say another word.
“We need to talk about this,” hope is useless.
“I don’t want to talk about this,” I tell him again.
“Ann, please,” he pleads.
I get up and confront him, angry. I don’t want to argue; I just want to think, but he doesn’t understand. He never understands.
“This time you’ve crossed the line, Henry. I won’t argue or forgive you anymore. I need time and space. I don’t know if I want to be with you ever again.”
His face tightens, and I see how I’m breaking his heart. It doesn’t hurt me to do it anymore. I need to do it to get some peace for at least one damn hour.
“Anna,” he approaches and touches my cheek. I step away and go to the kitchen.
“Don’t touch me! I’m not leaving because Jeremy can’t keep going through this, just that.” I take a glass and fill it with water. I gulp it all down in one go and don’t turn to look at him, even though I know he’s just a step away.
“I’m sorry, really,” he murmurs.
“You’ve exhausted your quota of apologies and my belief in them. I don’t even know if…”
“What?”
“I want to be with you,” I say in a whisper. I know I’m lying. I know I want to be with him, but I just can’t bear it anymore… “I love you, but I’m tired. I’m not eighteen anymore; I can’t stand it. I’d rather live unhappy without you for the rest of my life and move forward than have small moments of happiness with you and always go back to the starting point.”
I turn around and look at him; his eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his mouth is agape, as if he can’t believe what I’m saying.
“You’re breaking my heart…”
“You constantly break mine. When you left five years ago, you broke my heart; when you came back, too. When you tried to win me back, when we fought and you said horrible things, when you thought I tried to do something to hurt our baby, and when you left again when I needed you the most… You always break my heart.”
“Do you think it doesn’t hurt me?” Now his anger surfaces. He speaks through gritted teeth and makes exaggerated gestures.
“You’re the one who left. I can’t imagine how much it hurts you.”
I walk to the closet, grab some sheets, and put them on the couch. I lie down, but Henry is still there, looking at me as if he doesn’t know me… I don’t even know myself at these moments.
“Demetria was at the hospital,” Henry says, and I remember that she works there as a nurse… I don’t know how she passed her university exams, but she did. She just gives pills to patients without conducting proper examinations; she’s a great doctor, so great that she has a list of patient complaints against her.
“Yeah, she works there. Where are you going with this?”
“She told me you didn’t want more children,” Henry begins, and I stand up from the couch in an instant, “that if you found out you were pregnant, you would do everything to avoid having it. She convinced me, and I got blinded, thought you had done something to…”
“Where is the bag you took to the hospital?” I say, walking towards him. Now I understand everything.
“In the car.” I went out through the front door to the car, signaled Henry to open it, and he did. The first thing I saw when I opened the bag was some abortion pills.
“Damn bitch.”