As I settled into the couch, my mind began to wander back to that fateful day.
“I remember waking up in the hospital,” I started, my voice barely above a whisper. “I saw the doctor; it happened to be one of my colleagues at college.”
Sarah’s eyes locked onto mine, encouraging me to continue.
FLASHBACK TEN YEARS AGO
I slowly opened my eyes, grogginess clouding my mind. The beeping of machines and antiseptic smell assaulted my senses. But then a faint memory of a crash, screams, and shattered glass lingered, clouding me, and the pain, shock was still palpable.
“Xavier…”
“Xavier.”
“XAVIER! Can you hear me?” A doctor’s face hovered above me, his expression somber.
I tried to speak, but my voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat, wincing in pain. “What… what happened? Where’s my wife?”
“You were in a car accident,” he interrupted me, his voice firm but gentle. “Your wife survived, but I’m afraid she’s in critical condition. She’s being prepped for surgery as we speak.”
My mind reeled, panic setting in. “And Damon, my son?” I asked, my voice shaking.
The doctor’s expression faltered, and he hesitated.
“Where’s Damon?” I demanded, trying to sit up. But he spoke up after sighing.
“I’m sorry, Xavier. Your son didn’t make it.”
The room spun, and I felt like I was drowning. I tried to process the doctor’s words, but they seemed distant, unreal.
“No… no… no…” I whispered, my world crumbling.
The doctor’s voice became a distant hum, but his words still registered in a fragment.
“…multiple injuries… internal bleeding… lucky to be alive…”
“Your wife, Nicole, suffered significant injuries… ruptured spleen… broken ribs. We’re doing everything we can to stabilize her condition.”
I couldn’t respond. The only thought echoing in my mind was:
Damon is gone. Forever. I lost my son due to recklessness.
PRESENT
Sarah’s grip on my hand tightened as her eyes welled up.
“I couldn’t process it. I couldn’t breathe. All I could think about was how I’d argued with Nicole that day, how I’d lost my temper, and lost my son in the process,” I said as the memories flooded back again: the argument, the anger. Guilt consumed me like a tidal wave.
Sarah didn’t speak; she just continued listening, looking at me with empathy. After what felt like forever, she finally spoke up.
“Nicole left…” she said thoughtfully, with a hint of incredulity and a dash of compassion. “She shouldn’t have left you to grieve alone. You both lost Damon together; she should have mourned with you.”
I felt a pang of guilt and frustration, my voice laced with emotion. “It isn’t that simple, Sarah. Nicole’s pain… it was overwhelming. If you were in her shoes, you would have understood.”
Sarah’s eyes filled with empathy, her voice soft. “That must have been devastating. But didn’t she realize you were hurting too?”
I shook my head, the memories still raw. “She couldn’t see past her own grief. I couldn’t comfort her, and she couldn’t forgive me. The look in her eyes that day… I had never seen it before…”
FLASHBACK
“Nicole…” I called out, desperate to apologize, to make it right. But when I entered her room at the hospital, she wasn’t there. It was like she had discharged herself without me. I was certain she didn’t want to see my face.
“You need to rest too, Mr. Xavier,” a nurse guided me out of Nicole’s empty room, her face apologetic. “She discharged yesterday, even when we advised her not to.”
“She left?” I asked in a mix of disbelief and despair, my voice cracking.
The nurse nodded sympathetically. “Yes, sir. She insisted on leaving, despite our concerns about her condition. She didn’t leave any message or forwarding information.”
I felt a stinging sensation in my eyes as tears threatened to spill. Nicole had left without saying goodbye, without giving me a chance to apologize or make amends.
“Did she say anything?” I pressed, desperation creeping into my voice.
The nurse hesitated before speaking. “Only that she needed to get away, that she couldn’t stay here anymore…”
The rest of the nurse’s words drowned in my ears; all my mind was hell-bent on was to find Nicole, to apologize to her.
I rushed out of the hospital, without signing off on my discharge. The ride home was a blur, my eyes fixed on the passing scenery as my thoughts consumed me. She left without a word; I dreaded the thought of what might follow. One part of me was afraid to face her while the other part was adamant about seeing her.
As I burst through the front door, I called out, hastening upstairs, “Nicole?” But I met an oppressive silence.
I frantically searched our room, hoping she’d left a note or some indication of where she’d gone. But there was nothing but an empty closet. Then I knew she really left me. Why had she left? Why hadn’t she given me a chance to apologize, to make things right?
The emptiness of the house felt suffocating. I collapsed onto the couch, my head in my hands, and let out a despairing cry.
Fragmented memories of our faces in the argument flooded back. Guilt and regret washed over me, but then I heard a faint sound coming from upstairs. I thought it was my imagination, but I heard footsteps and immediately dashed back upstairs.
I followed the sound until I got to Damon’s room. There I saw her sitting at the edge of Damon’s bed, sobbing as she clenched his T-shirt tightly to her chest.
“Nicole,” I whispered, hesitant to cross the distance between us because I couldn’t bear the thought of her repelling me away.
She ignored me, still sobbing, and I kept my distance, letting her express her pain and grieve. Meanwhile, I watched her helplessly, wishing I could take away her pain, wishing I could go back in time and change everything. But that was never possible; I can’t take back my mistakes, and I knew that well.
After what seemed like forever in the silence of her sob, she turned to me and stared at me briefly before pointing toward the pile of paper on the bedside table.
I grabbed the paper, and my eyes widened as I realized what it was.
“Nicole, you can’t do this, please.”
“DON’T TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD DO!” She yelled, her voice echoing off the wall as she sprang out of the bed. I saw the anger and the pain in her eyes, and I knew there was no redemption for me. I wasn’t even given the chance to apologize.
“Sign it, and I’ll disappear and never come back,” she added, her voice trembling. Then she tossed me a pen, her gaze fierce and an expression I had never seen on her face before.
PRESENT
“I fucked up big time,” I said through gritted teeth as I hurled the cushion, sending it off the veranda railing, watching it plummet to the ground below.
The sudden release of tension didn’t ease my frustration.
Sarah, still seated on the couch, observed me calmly. “Xavier, you’re being too hard on yourself,” she said, her voice barely audible as she knew I would snap, which I did.
“It was my fault!” I exclaimed, my voice cracking under the weight of guilt and despair. “He was just four years old, innocent and full of life. He would have had a better future, a brighter tomorrow, but I ruined that. My temper, my recklessness, stole his chance at life.”
I slammed my fists against the railing, the sound echoing through the veranda. Tears streamed down my face as I relived the pain.
“Damon deserved better,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “He deserved a father who could protect him, love him, and keep him safe. But I failed him.”
Sarah’s eyes welled up with tears as she approached me cautiously. “Xavier, don’t say that,” she pleaded, her voice soft and soothing.
But I couldn’t stop. The words poured out, a torrent of anguish and regret.
“I keep replaying that day in my mind, wondering what I could have done differently. If only I had controlled my anger, if only I had been more composed. Just maybe I wouldn’t have lost Nicole and my son.”
Sarah wrapped her arms around me, pulling me close in an embrace as I shattered into a million pieces.
“You can’t change the past, Xavier,” she whispered, her words a gentle breeze in the storm. “But you can learn from it; you can find forgiveness and move on.”
I clung to her, desperate for solace, desperate to escape the prison of my guilt, but her warm embrace did little to help me. The weight of my remorse was crushing, and Sarah’s comfort was just a fleeting distraction from the anguish that had become my constant companion for all these years.
As I held her, I felt the dam of emotions within me begin to crack. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with Sarah’s as she cried for me.
But even as I sought refuge in her arms, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t deserve solace. That I was beyond redemption.
Just then a small voice broke through our muffled whispers.
“Daddy… why are you crying?”