“Emmy!” I shout, hoping like hell that she answers. “Emmy!”
I get closer and try to pry open the car door, my mind working overtime. I wish I hadn’t seen her like this. I wish the last memory of her was kissing her goodbye this morning, not this.
Not the blood covering her face and hair. Not her battered arm that hangs over the center console, not the steering wheel plummeted into her stomach and not her burnt and charred skin. I can’t unsee it, I don’t think I’ll ever get the image out of my head again. I know without a doubt that she’s gone. That she’s dead. They both are.
I’ll never hear her voice again, I’ll never feel her hand in mine, I’ll never feel her body in my arms.
All the things that will never happen run through my mind. I’ll never be a dad to the baby girl in her stomach, I’ll never hold her in my arms, I’ll never get up at three in the morning to do the morning feed. I’ll never hear her cry, I’ll never get to teach her how to ride a bike, I’ll never see her dancing in her dance recitals. Never. Never. Never.
I clutch my hair in my hands, pulling at it and feeling the burn in my scalp.
This wasn’t meant to happen, not to her. She’s too good to be taken so soon.
My legs give way as everything crushes me from the inside out. I can’t handle this, I won’t be able to live without her, without them.
“Sir, you need to step back,” the same firefighter says, placing his hand around my bicep and pulling me up like a rag doll, only now his voice has something different to it, sadness.
My vision blurs as they finally pull her out of the car, her body covered in blood and her perfect bump contorted and not round anymore. Her face lifeless and her eyes closed.
They put her on the gurney and wheel her to the ambulance and I run for it, stopping them and resting my head on her chest as I wrap my arms around her, tears streaming down my face and sobs taking over my whole body.
“No, baby, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen! You can’t leave me, I need you, baby. Please, please come back to me.” I look up at her face and grip it in my hands, pressing my lips against hers and sobbing out, “Don’t leave me.”
“Sir?”
“She’s my wife!” I shout at the EMT. “She’s… she… she was my wife.”
My arms hang over my bent knees, my head lowered to the ground. I squeeze my eyes shut as that day rains down on me like a torrential downpour. The tears flow down my face and I watch as they drop onto the grass, running down the blades and then soaking into the dirt.
“I come and sit out here sometimes too.” I lift my head at Dad’s voice and raise a brow at him. “It’s so peaceful out here, she loved it.”
I nod my head silently and look up at the now darkening sky, I’ll stay here until the stars twinkle, telling myself that she’s up there looking down on us all.
“Do you remember the first day she moved in?” he chuckles. “The way she ate that food that your ma cooked, it was like she’d never eat again.” He turns his head to me. “You know she stored food in her room?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I never asked her about it, but I knew why.”
“She had such a bad start in life, but you changed that, son.” His hand grips onto my shoulder and he squeezes it gently. “You gave her a better life. She was happy.”
“She was,” I whisper.
We stay silent for a while, just watching the sky. Dad blows out a breath and then turns to me. “She’d want you to be happy too.”
“I am happy,” I say, defensively.
“No.” He shakes his head.
“You’re not. You’re drifting through life and that isn’t any way to live. You need to love again.”
“I—”
“Don’t tell me you can’t, I know you can. I know.”
“Yeah?” I laugh condescendingly, standing up. “You telling me that you’d be able to love again after Ma?”
“That’s different,” he says, his voice low.
“How is that different?” I ask, opening my arms wide.