Whispered Prayers of a Girl

As he talks, his expression turns soft. It’s a look I’ve never seen on his face, but one that makes him look devastatingly handsome.

“Each visit was short, but with each one, I dreaded her leaving. She was so sweet and soft-spoken, but also had a sense of humor a mile long. We’d sit outside on the porch and make each other laugh until our stomachs hurt. She was one of the easiest people to talk to. On the last day, I got her phone number and promised to call her. I did as soon as I got home, and for a year and a half, that’s how we communicated.”

He stops for a moment and stares off into space, as if lost in thought, then shakes his head and continues. I keep my eyes on him, not wanting to miss anything.

“The day I got my driver’s license, I begged my mom to let me go see her, but she wouldn’t. She said it was too far to drive with my newly earned driving status. It took me six months to convince her to let me go, and even then, I had to pull over and call her every hour.”

He chuckles, but it sounds dry.

“We talked for a year and a half on the phone, but when we saw each other again in person, we were both so nervous. It was easy on the phone, because we weren’t face-to-face. We finally managed to get over our awkwardness and it felt just as natural as when we first met and then when we spoke on the phone. I visited her once a month and we became really close over the years. We both dated other people, but for me, none of the girls really mattered. I knew I had feelings for Clara, but she lived so far away, so I tried pushing the feelings aside, but it never worked.”

He takes a swallow of his drink, then uses his arm to wipe his mouth. I can’t take my eyes off his face. It’s so animated when he speaks of the girl he fell in love with as a teenager.

He drops one of his legs and rests the bottle on the top of his thigh.

“We attended the same college and it wasn’t until I was a junior and she a sophomore that things changed between us. We started dating and making plans for the future. We married after college, and decided right away to start a family. Her degree was in interior design, so she was able to work from home. It was perfect for us, because she wanted to be at home with our kids. We were both so excited. We tried for months, but she never got pregnant. It took two years….”

He trails off, and I know from the look on his face whatever he’s about to say will be excruciating for him. I clutch the blanket in my fists to keep from reaching out to him, worried the gesture won’t be welcome. His body is tense, as if he’s barely holding himself together.

“She lost the baby when she was two months pregnant,” he says, then stops to clear his throat when his voice cracks. “She was six weeks pregnant when she lost the second.” I suck in a breath and my hand flies to my mouth. Immediate tears fill my eyes. But he’s not done. “At four months, she miscarried our third baby, and at one month miscarried our fourth. After that, I had decided we weren’t going to try for a fifth. Each miscarriage killed us a little inside, and watching Clara go through each one became too much, but she wanted to try one last time.”

Unable to stand the small gap between us, I scoot closer to him. The sun is below the horizon, leaving us in shadows. I know he has to be freezing, but the warmth of the alcohol and the memories he’s facing right now must be giving him the ability to ignore the cold.

I watch the hand that’s not holding the bottle flex back and forth into a fist as he continues to talk, further breaking my heart for him.

“We were so careful. She made it thirty-two weeks before the baby decided to come.” A smile touches his face for a brief second before it slips free. “She was so tiny and incredibly gorgeous.”

He pulls a picture out of his pocket, and I recognize it as one of the ones in his nightstand drawer. It’s the one of them in the hospital. He fingers the photo with reverence, like it’s one of the most precious things to him.

“Due to her being so early and her lungs not being fully developed, after a visit just long enough to snap this picture, she was rushed to the neonatal unit, where she was given the chance to grow stronger. She was there for seven weeks before she was deemed ready to go home.”

The bottle drops from his hand and tips over. The amber liquid spills and runs down the embankment toward the water. My eyes swing back to Alexander to catch him dropping his head in his hands, where he fists his hair. His shoulders slump as he breaks down right in front of my eyes. I get on my knees and move closer to him. I hate seeing him in this state, and I need to reach out to him, but I think he needs me to as well. As soon as I touch his shoulder, his head whips up and he stares at me with anguished eyes. The look terrifies me. His pain has become my pain.

“Alexander.” I have no idea what I want to say, but I need to say something to help wipe the immense pain from his face. Before I get a chance to come up with the right words, he stops me.

“No,” he says roughly. “This is something you need to know.”

I nod and sit back on my legs, but still keep my hand on his shoulder; my need to touch him, to silently let him know I’m here is too great. My heart pounds heavily in my chest. I know what he’s about to say will be devastating.

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, then digs the heels of his hands into the sockets and rubs so hard it has to hurt.

“We were so damn happy we were able to finally bring her home,” he continues, his voice so scratchy it sounds like he’s been screaming for hours. “The weather was rainy and warm for that time of year. I remember looking over and seeing the smile on Clara’s face, knew I had the same big grin of happiness. By the time Rayne was released, it was already dark and the lights from all the Christmas decorations we passed made Clara’s face glow even more.”

I tense, afraid of where he’s going, and I silently pray I’m wrong. My stomach rolls when he starts talking again, his words and the sorrowful way he says them shredding my heart into tiny pieces, then crushing them into dust.

“We were coming up on Hallow’s Creek when a car coming the other way swerved in front of us. I jerked the wheel to avoid hitting him head-on. I could hear Clara screaming in my ear, but I was too focused on trying to keep the car on the road. It was slick and there were puddles. I hit one and hydroplaned. We hit the shoulder sideways and the impact flipped the car over.” His terror-filled eyes move to a spot close to the bridge on the side of the road, and I know he’s seeing where the car started its first roll. “We rolled four times until the car stopped on Clara’s side.”

Tears flood my cheeks and my hand digs into his shoulder. His tone is no longer hoarse, but now blank, revealing no emotion at all. It’s only the tears sliding down his face that show his pain.

“Alexander, please stop,” I croak, not sure I can hear the rest.

He doesn’t stop though, and I force myself to listen to him, somehow knowing he needs to do this, even if it does destroy me. My pain is nothing compared to his, so I can do this for him.

“It was the heat from the flames that brought me to. They hadn’t made it to me yet, but they were close. The tiny wails of my b

eautiful baby girl were the first thing I heard, but they only lasted a few seconds before they abruptly stopped. I was barely conscious, but the silence scared the shit out of me. I needed to hear her cry so I knew she was okay.”

He stops talking all of a sudden and looks around frantically, a look of panic on his face. I realize what he’s looking for and hand him the almost empty bottle. The relief floods his face when he grabs it and downs the rest. I wish there is more I can do to help dull the pain this is causing him, but all I can do is sit here, helpless.