At His Mercy

43-Aya

I awaken to the sound of the curtains being pulled back.  As I shield my eyes, ready to hear the chirpy voice of Ami-Ji, I am suddenly accutely aware of the silence.  Then the sound of the chair being dragged across the carpet to stop beside the bed.

Half squinting, I pull back the covers from my face to find myself staring at Adam. I'm so stunned I freeze.  He is sat parallel to me, watching me.  his feet resting against the bed, his elbows resting on the arms of his chair, steepled in front of his chest. He is wearing a 2 day old shadow and looks so beautiful it makes me ache. Instantly, i push back the sheets, and climb out and onto his lap, burying my head in his shoulder. Filled with relief.
He must be suprised because he doesnt move, his arms out for a second and then he winds them around me, holding me tight. I breath in his smell like it is some elixir. Relief floods through me. The anger, the uncertainty all fall away. All I can think of is that Adam is here. I feel the heat radiating off his skin and let my finger hang around his neck. Solid and warm against the flat of his chest.

I'm not sure how long we sit there like that, but I feel him slide his hand under my t shirt and around my waist pulling me in even tighter. The rhythmic rise and  fall of his chest is soothing. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing. The feeling of completion, of absolute satisfaction and contentment lulls me into a state of inertia.
I don't know how long we stay like that but we stay suspended in time .

Then I'm talking, the words spilling out like a overflowing cup.  With my head still buried in his shoulder I let the weight of the world fall from them. 'Your phone was disconnected, your emails kept bouncing back and your address. . . I wrote atleast 5 letters. Not one of them sounded right. . . . In a couple I told you about the pregnancy and in another I wrote 'please call me its important. . . and I kept putting it off because I didn't want you to come back just for the baby, I didn't want to force you to come back. . . and I just kept thinking 'what should I say? how should I tell him? . . . and then. . . . .  then. . .there was no baby.'  I stop here, a lump in my throat. 'It was the worst place, suddenly I lost the baby and even that little bit of you, it was gone,' the wound is open and even as I say them, the words hurt.  'I never planned on not telling you, it's just when it happened, I didn't want to think about everything I had lost so quickly.  I kept blaming myself for making the wrong choice with you, but then when I couldn't even hold on to our baby, it was like I felt like there was something wrong with me. You were gone, there was no baby, and I was on my own again! and the whole thing was like a painful nightmare which I couldn't wake up from. You didn't call! Not even once! ' I feel the anger rise in my voice, I raise my head and glare at him, 'was I so insignificant? So unremarkable? So unimportant? You didn't even think of me ..... not once?' I hate the sound of accusation in my voice. there is a yearning in my chest, a painful wound, which just won't heal. I feel a tear slide down my cheek and in that moment I just don't care about being strong. I can't keep pretending I don't feel the hurt which is crushing me inside. I'm exhausted and I'm burnt out. I have nothing. Nothing left to give.

His eyes are shut and his eyebrows furrowed as if my words are painful.  Slowly he begins to shake his head, then opens his eyes, 'I was ashamed, I didn't know what to think, I thought you'd come with me, I believed our relationship was stronger than anything else.  But when it came down to it- you didnt want me,' I begin to shake my head at his words '-not enough!' He says in a tight voice. 'I lay here night after night thinking about the way you looked at me, the way you pleaded and I knew, that somewhere inside it didn't feel right.' his eyes are so sad, they break my heart, 'I didn't know how to come back!' he whispers. His words sound agonised. 'God knows,  when the anger had dissipated, I wanted to! I kept thinking back over it. I couldn't understand why you didn't trust me, after everything you still didn't trust me-'
Another silence settles over us. His words are true, I can't deny that. If I had trusted him, i would have gone with him. Let him figure out what would happen next. Mum, uni, his own father. But I had never relied on anyone else, not even my mother. From an early age, I had learnt that she was different, frail and more delicate. I would have to look after her and myself, life had taught me that. And then Adam had arrived and made a part of it better. Had given me a chance to temporarily escape. He'd never met my mum, never had the chance to understand what it was really like everyday for me. How could I hand everything over to him? Let him take control- not when I'd never really surrendered real life over to anyone!
'You wanted me to make an impossible decision! I couldn't live without you, my mother couldn't live without me! You knew what it was like . .  .' The anger evaporates and leaves a pathetic bleakness in my voice. I hate myself for being so weak, for telling the truth, for exposing that naive, hopeless girl that lives inside me. The sound of the words is pathetic even to my own ears.
There it is: All the anger and pain, fear and love, like spilt paint, mixing together in one great big shameful mess. Emotions bleeding into each other.
Like a gash open wide, stinging from the very air I need.
I never imagined myself confessing it all like this, perhaps once I may have fantasized about confronting Adam. In that daydream I was strong and indifferent to him, independent and self assured. But as I sit in his lap, so close to him I realise how foolish I was.
I could never have forgotten who Adam  is and what he means to me- even if I don't like it.