Numb Pain

Chapter 19

My little boy is handed back to me, but in his sweet face, I can only see the features of Jai. I'm scared of handling him, of having him cradled in my arms. For when my girl passed away so quickly, what is there to stop my son from doing the same? His head lays, heavy, in my hands and I pull him tight into my chest though I know that, if he is destined to the heavens, there is nothing I can do to stop it. I feel Ethan's thumb stroking gently across the back of my hand, and open my eyes to see his soft smiling face. "What will you call him?" he asks, and though I wish I didn't yet have to decide, I know that I must. I think for a second, replaying the discussions with Jai about our future children. He's not here anymore, but I still remember the names we loved mutually.

"George," I whisper, looking down at the child in my arms as he sleeps momentarily. Be it my imagination or not, his mouth seems to twitch in small recognition of the name. I nod softly, stroking the baby's tiny arm, "Definitely George." Ethan doesn't respond, he just smiles and continues to stroke the back of my hand. Of course there isn't much to say, for it isn't his child. Perhaps in the future he will act as the father to George, or maybe he'll be more of an uncle. I don't know what I want him to be, not just yet. Jai's funeral is next week and maybe that's when I'll be able to finally forget. No, that's not true. I'll never forget. Not now that I have a child cradled in my arms, sleeping softly, his face a picture of Jai's own handsome features. I blink back hot tears, for I am surely blessed that at least one of my babies is alive and as healthy as a premature twin can be, and to cry would only curse the little luck I have left. George wakes and whimpers softly into my chest, perhaps mourning for his lost sister.

"He has your eyes..." Ethan mutters, glancing at the boy's crystal blue orbs. I smile; at least he is not the complete image of my love. A nurse walks in, and I instinctively clutch the child closer to my tired body, reluctant to let him be taken away from me a second time. She smiles at me and stands at the end of my bed.

"He seems to be doing fine," though I know there is a but, "But because he was born so early, you'll need to stay in hospital for a few more days, just to make sure he's okay." I nod weakly, sickened by the idea of waiting in this bed until the end of the week, and she steps back out of the ward. Ethan takes my hand in a small act of comfort.

"I'll stay with you." he declares, but I shake my head, squeezing his fingers.

"No, you need to work." my voice is barely there, tired and feeble, but it is loud enough for him to hear. I see the disappointment in his eyes, but I know he realises that he needs to work. If he doesn't he'd lose his job, and potentially the apartment. It's not his child, therefore he's not entitled paternity, and maybe that's a good thing - I'll have time alone with my son, so we can get used to each other, make each other smile without longing for the presence of his dad.

~~~~~

Days pass as George and I undergo far too many tests, injections and sleepless nights before I'm finally discharged and allowed to go home. Or rather, to Ethan's house. I was reluctant to visit my old house before, but now with a baby in arms, I know it wouldn't be a desireable experience for either of us. It would only end in tears and forced goodbyes from memories that shred my heart beyond repair. It will be a long time before I can walk into that house again, I just know it. George is healthy, though unusually small, and has at least given me something to live for. He will sleep in a cot at the side of Ethan's bed, and Ethan has taken to the spare room across the corridor. I owe a lot to him, putting up with me like this, and at some point I will repay him. Jai has left me £10,000, and yes, he said it was for George but there's of course a limit to how much you can spend on a newborn baby. I know at first Ethan will deny the payment, as any decent man might, but he needs it. No matter how much the boy insists I haven't been a trouble, there is no denying that I have been perhaps the most difficult lodger he's had. I'm sure that with persuasion, he'll realise how much he needs (and deserves) a little more money.