the sitter | lewandowski

twenty nine

29; viva la vida

"Light of my life, fire of my loins; my sin, my soul."

//

"I tried everything, but she just seemed so down." The day after Saoirse's birthday, Robert spoke with Rowan, who had been in his office figuring out his schedule for the week. "I mean, it was her birthday. She should've been happy, but she told me she didn't want to do anything—she literally slept through the entire day, then stayed up all night. I feel terrible. I mean, of course I had stuff planned, but I didn't want to force her into it. She was only awake long enough for me to give her gifts."

Rowan blinked. "She's just turned how old?" She inquired, tapping the schedule she held. Robert sighed.

"Eighteen."

"She may be weary. It happens all the time to young girls. But I think you're handling it right, by being tender and accepting. The last thing you should do is get upset with her. Especially given the fact that she's pregnant...she needs to rest."

Robert glanced at Rowan, then his desk. "So should I not be so worried?"

"Well, she may be sick. Perhaps you should take her to the doctor to find out—it's better safe than sorry."

Robert nodded his head. "You're right. I'll do that." He paused. "Thanks, then, for your advice."

Rowan smiled, but quickly scurried off—she had no issue helping Robert, but he also had an extremely busy schedule and him talking about his girlfriend for an entire hour had put him extremely behind.

Robert had managed to contact Kelsey and Mari and ask them to visit Saoirse, a trip which he obviously volunteered to pay for. Saoirse's close friends had arrived that morning, just as he was leaving for work—Robert envied the fact that those girls were the ones that'd managed to get Saoirse out of bed, but he was glad to see her so happy at the same time.

As he returned from his second meeting of the day and settled at his desk, Rowan knocked; when he told her to come in she only peeked the door open. "You have a visitor. Not Saoirse, but one of her friends."

Robert frowned, but shrugged. "Okay. Send her in."

Rowan moved aside as Kelsey entered the room, her hands almost shyly behind her back. "Something is wrong with Saoirse." She blurted, falling into the chair across from Robert's desk. "And Mari and I are worried. Really worried. Mari forced Saoirse to go to the hospital, because during lunch, she went to the bathroom and vomited blood. The moment she arrived at the hospital, she passed out. The doctor says it's pretty severe."

Robert stood up at once. "Did the doctor say what was wrong?" He inquired, panicking as he threw on his jacket.

"No, just that she was really sick." Kelsey's voice grew rushed, too.

"Well, then, we have to go back." Robert responded, grabbing his things. He and Kelsey drove back to the hospital, where Saoirse had now woken up; she was sweating vehemently and appeared exhausted, her eyelids barely able to hold themselves open as Robert entered the room.

He rushed to Saoirse's side, gripped her hand, and didn't say anything for a few moments as he slowly observed her face. "Saoirse, baby, what's wrong?" He finally inquired, softly, so that no one else could hear.

Saoirse opened her eyes wider. "I'm sick. I don't know why." She rubbed her eyes, but to no avail as a few hot tears began to stream down her warm cheeks. "I found out yesterday, but I couldn't bring myself to tell you. I didn't want to upset you. I woke up that morning, went to the bathroom, and fell unconscious. When I woke up, there was so much blood..."

"Ann-Kathrin found me. She took me here yesterday. I didn't want to ruin the day, but in the end, I was just too tired. The doctor said I had was pre-eclamptic and that there's a large chance either the baby or myself won't survive. She told me I had to rest. Today, she says I have a fever, and a fever with a condition like this is lethal."

Robert's mouth fell open. "W-what?" He inquired, with a small choke. "What do you mean, you or the baby? Lethal? I just—I don't understand."

"I don't, either." Saoirse responded, truthfully.

"How do we get rid of it?"

"By having the baby. But it's too early for me to deliver it, and childbirth is just as risky as a surgery. The longer I wait, the more in danger I am. It's a trap." Saoirse covered her face with her hands and choked out a sob. "It's just my comeuppance, Robert. It's my punishment for making Anna kill herself and killing the other girl. I've been such a horrible person. And since that's the case, I have to accept this."

"No you don't. It's not fair, and you know it. I mean, you've endeavored a lifetime harder than mine, and I'm a decade older than you. It's just not fair." Robert gripped her hand and pushed her hair out of her forehead. "There has to be a way."

Saoirse frowned. "But there isn't." She responded, her voice cracking. It was raspy and faint, and Robert found himself frightened as her eyelids fell closed. "I'm so tired, Robert. I just need to rest. And you need to work, so go. I'll be here when you get back."

Robert ran his fingers along Saoirse's cheek, resting his chin on his arm so that their faces were level. "I'm not going to go anywhere."

The corners of Saoirse's lips twitched, but she couldn't bring herself to smile properly. "Suit yourself," she stated, a familiar hint of sass in her meek voice. Robert smiled with that, and kissed her lips. Saoirse only began to silently cry again, and Robert could only hold her cheek and assure her, uncertainly, that everything would be okay. But each time Saoirse would only respond with another sob, and she repeated the same words in response to everything Robert said: "It won't be, it won't be, it won't be."

She drifted into a sleep eventually, and the only reassurance he had of the fact that she was still alive was the machine which monitored her heartbeat. After the doctor explained to him in detail what was going on, Robert spoke. "Why?"

The doctor motioned to Saoirse. "She's too young." She spoke, matter-of-factly. "She was unhealthy. When your body isn't strong enough to fully take care of itself, the last thing you should force upon it is another baby. It happens a lot among teenage mother—pardon me—pregnant teenagers." The doctor spoke, knowing that Saoirse would probably never be the mother to the child.

Robert let out a breath. Maybe she's right, he thought. Well, of course she is. Saoirse was too young. If I had just waited another year, or if I'd been a real adult and told her that, as good as her lips felt, it was wrong... "Be honest with me, then." Robert finally spoke, his eyes glossing over. "Will she live? Based on the facts and statistics?"

The doctor tapped her pen against her keyboard, sighed, and found her eyes connecting with Robert's before she spoke, causing his chest to capsize and his mind to break down. "Mr. Lewandowski, the chance of a 40 year old woman living through this is scarce, let alone an eighteen year old." She paused for a few moments and spoke again, her voice apologetic. "So, I'm sorry to say this—but, I doubt it."