She surveyed the mess grimly when she walked in the door. Toys lay scattered over the floor haphazardly and there was even a dirty diaper that had been pulled off and left by the sofa. An empty beer bottle on the coffee table next to a half-filled sippy cup of souring milk threatened to send her blood pressure soaring through the roof. She briefly debated with herself about picking it all up before she crawled into bed beside her no-good, sack-of-crap husband; her throbbing feet and aching head told her abruptly to forget the notion.
A quick glance into Sarah's room showed that at least she had on clean pajamas and was sleeping peacefully. Thank God for small miracles, she thought to herself sourly as she stripped off her work vest and clothing and put them in the laundry basket by the bedroom door.
Mitch was sprawled in the middle of the bed, with one arm slung all the way across her side, snoring loudly. Sighing, she slipped her nightgown on and then jabbed him in the chest with two fingers.
'Move over to your own side of the bed.'� She told him in an irritated voice. With a grunt, he complied, leaving her enough space to crawl in and pull the covers up to her shoulders.
It felt as though she had barely closed her eyes when she heard the alarm clock go off and felt him stirring beside her. She pretended to still be asleep while he sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes tiredly, trying to come awake. Moments later, the sound of the shower drifted into the semi-conscious state she had fallen back into.
She came fully awake when he started shaking her firmly. 'Did you wash my jeans yesterday?'� He demanded.
She fought through the haze of sleep long enough to come up with an answer. 'No.'� She told him abruptly, growing defensive as his eyes grew angry. 'I was running late as it was.'�
'What, like you didn't have all day to do it?'� He huffed in exasperation. 'Christ, I ask you to do one simple thing'�'�
'And what?'� She spat back, springing up in the middle of the bed like a cat ready to pounce. 'I worked my butt off all day yesterday and then went to work, the same as you. What did you do last night, other then sit on your ass and leave a mess for me to clean up today?'�
'I took care of our daughter.'� He threw back at her, then looked around the room frantically, the fight in him fizzling as he tried to address the situation at hand. 'Shit! What am I supposed to wear to work? I've got to get out of here or I'm going to miss the carpool.'�
'Wear the ones from yesterday; I'll do laundry today.'� She said tiredly, feeling a brief sting of guilt that vanished quickly when she saw the look of venom that he shot her from across the room.
Watching her husband hop around on one leg as he stumbled into his dirty jeans and t-shirt, she briefly considered telling him off, but the need for sleep seemed more urgent than continuing a losing argument. The same argument they'd been having for over two years.
She lay in the bed listening to his muttered obscenities and then the sound of the door closing and the lock turning. Finally, she threw back the covers, knowing that sleep would be impossible now. Pulling on sweatpants and a ratty t-shirt, she started pulling clothes out of the hamper to take to the washing machine. Grimacing, she noted that there was a dreadfully large quantity of dirty clothes, although she would never have admitted that to Mitch.
Putting a load in the washer, one of the few conveniences they had managed to squeeze into their tiny budget, she closed the lid and turned around to survey the room. Looking over the tiny apartment with its cramped rooms and dark interior, she felt the same hatred and disgust that she always did for the dreary little place. God, what a dump, she thought to herself with tired resignation.
Moving around the room she began to pick up Sarah's toys, most of which had either been gifts or bought at second-hand shops. Fortunately, Sarah wasn't old enough to care if something was second-hand or not. Sylvia dreaded the day when that would change and comforted herself with the thought that things would be different by then.
She straightened the pillows on the faded red sofa; bright so they would add some cheer to the room. She picked up the junk that had accumulated on the kitchen table and noticed the hundreds of fingerprints and smears on the surface. The glass table that had seemed so chic and sophisticated, as well as inexpensive, was really just one in a long list of stupid mistakes they had made. Six months pregnant and two months married, they hadn't a clue about what the reality of life as a couple or a child would be like. Well, ignorance is bliss, Sylvia thought as she sprayed the table with Windex and wiped it down. She often wondered why she bothered when Sarah's tiny handprints would cover the surface again within an hour of waking. She often wondered why she bothered to get out of bed in the morning at all, much less lift a hand to try to do anything in the dump that they called home.
She went to the cramped bathroom and turned the shower on hot, then stepped in. The fact that it felt like someone was standing above her and peeing on her head didn't improve her mood; the shower was as always tepid and the spray unimpressively weak. Sighing, she tried to take deep breaths to help her calm down.
Stepping out of the stall, she heard her daughter calling her name. Biting back a curse and quickly drying off, she hung up her towel and threw on a bathrobe.
'I'm right here, Sarah.'� She called, walking through the apartment toward her daughter's room. Her voice was irritable and she felt a stab of guilt over greeting her daughter that way nearly every morning.
She walked into Sarah's room and found the cherubic 2-year-old sitting up in bed with her brown curls springing from her head in disarray.
'Mama.'� She said matter-of-factly, in her unique Sarah way, holding up her arms to be picked up for a good morning hug.
Looking down at her daughter, Sylvia's irritation was replaced by an aching feeling of tenderness, and she lifted her from the bed and gave her a smacking kiss on the lips. Squeezing her briefly, she let the little girl slide to the floor gently.
'Come on, muffin. Let's go get some breakfast.'�
Sarah walked behind her obediently, clutching her little brown bear by the hand. Going straight to a kitchen chair, she pointed to the cereal box that was on the counter where Mitch had left it.
'Cheerios.'� She demanded, her voice sweet and clear. 'And milk.'�
'What do you say?'� Sylvia quizzed absentmindedly, her hands already pouring the cereal into a bowl as she looked at the stack of bills laying on the countertop.
'Cheerios. Please.'� The toddler clarified, her enunciation clear and precise, her head tilted to one side while watching her mother. When the bowl was set before her, she beamed a smile and said by habit, 'Tanks.'�
Distracted, Sylvia saw neither the smile nor the polite response that she had grilled into her daughter since she had learned how to talk. 'Shit, shit, shit!'� She muttered, seeing an urgent letter from a creditor that they had been dodging for months.
'Shit, shit, shit.'� Came the sweet baby voice from behind her. Whirling around, her daughter's brown eyes stared at her trustingly. Without thinking, she slapped Sarah's hand and said, 'No! That's a bad word!'�
The eyes welled with tears and spilled over as her daughter looked at the table. Immediately, Sylvia felt contrition and knew that she had once again turned anger against herself into anger against her daughter. Her reaction to her daughter's pain was as swift and unthinking as the slap had been; kneeling, she gathered the child in her arms and held her gently.
'Sarah, Mommy is so sorry.'� She whispered, her own tears close to the surface as her daughter's body trembled against her own. 'Mommy shouldn't have hit you. Mommy said the bad word first, didn't she?'�
'Yes.'� The word trembled on the child's lips and her head nodded in double affirmation. 'Mama said.'�
'I know.'� Sylvia sighed loudly and kissed her daughter's head. 'That was a bad word and Mommy shouldn't have said it either. But Sarah shouldn't say that word ever again. Okay?'�
''Kay.'� Sarah sniffled and looked up at her mother, patting her face consolingly now that the initial storm of grief had passed. 'Me eat Cheerios.'�
Climbing into her seat, she lifted her spoon and began to carefully gather up the tiny cereals and milk and cram them into her rosy mouth. Sylvia watched her for a moment, making sure that she was okay, and then began to go through the bills again. She was careful to keep her apprehension to herself this time and within moments, the entire altercation with her daughter was erased from her mind.
When Sarah was done eating, Sylvia turned cartoons on for her and began to clean the apartment. Spying her wedding album, she sat down with it for a moment and flipped through the pictures that were glowing with youthful optimism and the glamour that two attractive people in love could lend a wedding gown and tux. At nearly twenty-two, Sylvia knew that she was still young, but she often felt much older. Being pragmatic and no-nonsense though, her eyes didn't cloud with tears at the thought of that one day where she had believed that life would work out and they would live happily ever after. Instead, she dusted the cover and put it back on the cheap sofa table as a relic of a happier time.
When the phone rang, she answered with a brisk, 'Hello.'�
'Sylvia? What are you doing?'�
'Mom.'� The word was said with a flat tone. 'I'm cleaning the apartment.'�
'Oh.'� Sylvia could almost imagine her mother's lips forming the word carefully, as though trying to find the syllable that was the most innocuous of actual meaning, yet allowed her to project as much feeling as possible. Her mother was a master of subtlety. 'Well, I don't want to keep you. But I was wondering if I could come and get Sarah for a couple of hours. It's been weeks since I've seen her.'�
'Mom, you know where we live.'� Sylvia knew that the words and the anger were pointless, but she wasn't very good at suppression. 'You can see Sarah anytime you want.'�
There was silence from the other end for a moment. 'I would love to spend more time with my granddaughter,'� was the stiff response. Then, with an underlying tone of hurt, 'But I know that your husband doesn't really like me. Besides, between the two of your schedules it is fairly difficult to plan anything.'�
'Mom, fine. Okay.'� Sylvia knew the routine well and was too tired to do anything other than play along. 'When did you want to pick her up?'�
'I thought I would come around 11:00 and keep her until around 4:00. That will give her plenty of time to play and she can just nap here at the house.'�
'Okay.'�
Goodbyes were exchanged and Sylvia hung up the phone with the same nagging feeling of depression that she always got after a conversation with her mother. Elaine had always expected her daughter to follow in her own footsteps; getting knocked up and dropping out of college at the start of sophomore year wasn't part of the plan. Neither was marrying a man like Mitch; to say that Mitch and his family didn't fit into their socioeconomic level was putting it mildly. Mitch's family were loud and obnoxious and had never belonged to a country club in their life. Sylvia's own family believed that the perfect weekend was spent in brunch and tennis sets, capped by intimate dinner parties with just the right guests. Mitch's family thought that a keg and a hearty round of brats and hamburgers cooked in the backyard, with children squealing and playing around the boisterous debates held by the adults, was the ultimate in social function. Sylvia had already asked her mother-in-law if she could be adopted; she loved them with an ease and a lack of complication that had never existed in her upper-middle class home. Even if she occasionally felt a little out of place. She still loved them.
Knowing her mother well, Sylvia washed and dressed Sarah carefully in a little matched set that had been a gift earlier in the year. Pulling her brown hair back with a bow, she cupped her daughter's face and smiled down at her for a moment.
'Perfection!'� She stated dramatically, making Sarah giggle and prance around a little bit. 'You're going to go and stay with Grandma Elaine for a little while. Okay?'�
'Okay.'� Sarah nodded her head agreeably.
Hating herself for doing it, she cast a critical eye over the living room and made a few adjustments here and there, picking up stray things and quickly shoving them into hiding places. Checking her own appearance in the mirror, she couldn't help but think to herself with a self-deprecating smile that she would certainly never be allowed in the country club. Her blonde hair, once sun lightened and shimmering in a perfect chin-length bob, now hung in listless hanks around her shoulders after air-drying. Grabbing a brush she pulled it through her hair a few times, then rubbed a dollop of hand lotion between her hands and over her hair, trying to smooth the flyaway strands. She surveyed the results, then shrugged in defeat. Eighty dollar haircuts and thirty minutes devoted to hair styling weren't big on her list of priorities these days. Her mother would have to deal with it.
Hearing the chime of the doorbell, she walked slowly through the apartment, taking a deep, cleansing breath before opening the door.
Elaine stood in the gloomy, musty entryway of the apartment awkwardly, clutching her purse on her shoulder as though she expected to be assaulted at any moment. She looked momentarily relieved when her daughter opened the door, but that lasted only a few seconds. She took in every detail of Sylvia's appearance without her eyes so much as twitching; Sylvia almost felt amusement as she saw her mother's skill at nonchalant judgment at work. When Elaine met her eyes, Sylvia saw there the same criticism that she had seen for years. Her unplanned pregnancy and beneath-her-class marriage had not improved matters. And because her mother was one of the few people who had ever been able to make her feel inferior, she had turned away before she saw that the criticism was mingled with sadness and love.
'Come on in.'� Sylvia threw over her shoulder, leaving her mother to follow behind her. 'Welcome to our humble home.'�
Elaine stepped through the door and looked around the apartment, her expression bland. Then her eyes lit with joy.
'Sarah.'� She said softly, watching the little girl for a moment as she sat quietly in front of the television.
Hearing her name called, Sarah looked up from her cartoons and her face became transformed by a radiant smile, dimples twitching in the corners of her mouth.
'Gamma!'� She called out in a sing-song voice, then ran and flung her arms around her grandmother. Sylvia, who was watching from the kitchen table, felt the moment transformed briefly by her daughter's unadulterated affection. But the feeling was gone almost as quickly as it had come as she took in her mother's linen capris and white twinset. God, she even has open-toed sandals to match the beads in her pants, she thought to herself with a mixture of disgust and envy.
Elaine hugged her granddaughter tightly, then released her saying, 'We're going to go to Gamma's house in just a minute. Let me talk to your mother for a minute. Okay?'�
'Okay.'� Patient as always, Sarah plopped down in front of cartoons again.
Walking over to where Sylvia sat, Elaine gestured to the chair next to her. 'Can I join you for a moment?'�
Her mouth tipping up with amusement, Sylvia inclined her head gracefully. 'Please do.'� Her voice was formal and tinged with a note of mockery. 'I will have to apologize for my lack of planning. It seems I have neither chilled white wine nor sparkling water to offer you. Perhaps you would care for a glass from the tap? It is remarkably tepid, but with a little ice'�voila! It is transformed into a wonderful beverage that is quite affordable.'�
Elaine's face remained neutral, but her eyes had grown icy. 'It seems that you've maintained your remarkable wit, if not your appearance.'�
Clutching a hand to her heart, she acted as though pained. 'Touché.'� Leaning back in the chair and trying to act as though she wasn't truly stung by her mother's comment, she said impatiently, 'Why don't we cut the crap, Mother? What do you want?'�
Elaine cast a wary look at her granddaughter to see if she was still occupied, then sat down at the table and folded her hands in front of her. 'Sylvia, why are we always fighting?'� She asked quietly, her eyes searching her daughter's. 'I only want what is best for you.'�
'No, you want what you think is best for me.'�
'And is this what you think is best for you? For Sarah?'� Elaine waved a hand around the apartment, her face showing her disbelief. 'We may disagree about what you should have done with your life, but I find it difficult to believe that this is the life you want for yourself and your daughter.'�
Sylvia sat stewing for a moment before answering, torn between pride and honesty. As it had for years in dealings with her mother, something in her mother's chiding tone made pride win out.
'Mitch and I are doing our best, Mother.'� She lifted her chin, defiance etched into the lift of her jaw and the glint of her eyes. 'It won't get us into the country club, but those things are important to you, not to your granddaughter.'�
Elaine said nothing, merely staring at her daughter. Finally, when it was obvious that neither one of them was willing to back down, she tried an old argument.
'I simply want to help.'� She paused, choosing her words with care, 'If you would just let your father and I help you out, so that you could go back to school'�'�
'Mother, I'm not a child!'� Sylvia erupted, loud enough that Sarah looked up from her cartoons with scared eyes. 'I am a grown woman. What about Mitch? You always seem to forget that I have a husband and Sarah has a father.'�
'No, I don't.'� Elaine studied her hands, folding and refolding them. Meeting Sylvia's angry eyes, her voice was tired. 'What can I say? I don't think that you and Mitch are a good match.'�
'And you don't like him.'�
'I don't like him for you.'�
Sylvia laughed, her voice bitter. 'Why? Because his family doesn't have money? Or is it because he got me pregnant and ruined my chances to make a good match?'�
'I don't think Mitch has the ambition or the drive to make something of himself.'� Elaine's eyes flickered, then looked away. 'As for getting you pregnant'�I'm sure you had a hand in that yourself.'�
'Well,'� Sylvia laughed, thrown off a bit by the honest comment. 'I guess I probably did.'�
Her mother smiled a somewhat wry, tentative smile at her daughter and for a moment they simply sat there, amused together.
Looking over at Sarah, Sylvia said, 'Well, you'd better go ahead and take her so I can try to get some things done before I go to work.'�
'You're always working; you work too hard.'�
She shrugged, the gesture taking the place of pointless words.
Standing, Elaine brushed at the wrinkles sitting had made in her pant legs. 'Sarah,'� she called, 'Let's go to Gamma's house and play for a little while. I've got some new toys for you.'�
Jumping up enthusiastically, the little girl ran to her mother and threw her arms around her neck. 'Sarah go to Gamma's.'� She told her mother informatively. 'Bye-bye, mama.'�
Sylvia took an uncharacteristic moment to hug her daughter back hard and breathe in her little girl scent, then release her gently. 'Have fun, Sarah. I love you.'�
'Love you, mama.'� Her daughter called back over her shoulder, holding Elaine's hand tightly as they left the apartment.
'I'll bring her back around four.'� Her mother said simply, then Sylvia was left alone in the apartment that she hated.
She worked on the laundry and housework, alternating between the two until she was exhausted. But the tiny apartment was clean and they had clean clothes, so she counted it a necessary evil. It was a far cry from her childhood, when a housekeeper came twice a week to do all the real work around the house. When she and Mitch had first gotten married she had been semi-charmed by the thought of doing everything herself and felt domestic and useful as she bustled around sweeping and vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. The charm faded after a couple of weeks and the fights started; Mitch's mother was a happy-go-lucky woman who took great pride in keeping her home clean and delicious food always cooking. Mitch couldn't understand why she couldn't be more like that.
'Look, how hard is it to push a broom around once a day and load the dishwasher?'� He would ask in exasperation.
'I don't know, you tell me!'� She had shot back immediately, never one to internalize anger. 'I never see you lift a finger.'�
He looked shocked at the suggestion, replying, 'Mom never asked us to help.'�
'Well,'� She said with great sarcasm, 'I'm not your damned mother, am I?'�
An angry look had crossed his face that day, but she saw him visibly bite back his words as he stomped out of the apartment. She was still in love enough that she made an effort to tidy things up before he got back. That night he apologized for his criticisms and they made up in the bedroom, the one place that had never failed them in their relationship.
The next night when she got home from work, Mitch had swept the kitchen floor and unloaded the dishwasher. Sheepishly, he grinned at her as he scraped the inside of a Campbell's soup can with a spoon. Watching the gelatinous mess fall into the saucepan, her pregnant stomach gave an uneasy rumble. But she said nothing. She simply walked over to him and kissed him gently on the mouth. Together, they finished dinner and then talked glowingly about the future.
Remembering, Sylvia couldn't help but smile a little tenderly at the thought of Mitch fumblingly trying to overcome his lack of domestic skills. That had been a long time ago.
Around two-thirty she went into the bathroom and fixed her hair, taking the time to roll it and brush it out until it lay in shining waves around her face. Feeling pricked at the thought of her mother's unflattering comments, she applied careful makeup and then slipped her uniform on.
Hearing the front door open and shut, she heard movement in the front room that she chose to ignore. She stayed silent, even when she saw her husband come to the door of the bathroom to watch her putting on some earrings and spraying perfume on her wrists and hair.
'You look nice.'� Mitch said after a moment, although he silently noted that there were faint circles of exhaustion under her eyes. 'I like your hair like that.'�
She debated briefly about continuing to give him the silent treatment, but then decided against it. Martyrdom was really her mother's thing.
'Thanks.'� She said succinctly.
She watched him lean his head against the doorframe and close his eyes. 'Rough day?'� She asked dispassionately.
'Yeah.'�
She said nothing, simply left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of juice.
'Where's Sarah?'�
'With my mother.'� She said, eyeing him over the rim of the glass. As usual, Mitch's mouth tightened. 'She'll be bringing her home around four.'�
'Great.'� He sneered. 'Just what I'm in the mood for, a great big dose of Elaine.'�
'Don't start.'� She said quietly, 'I'm tired too and I still have to go to work. And you should probably know we got another letter from the power company. If we don't pay they're going to turn off our power by the end of next week.'�
He sat down at the table and put his head in his hands. For a moment he simply sat there, then she saw his shoulders shaking.
'Mitch?'� She said, her voice insecure as a child's. She put a hand on his shoulder in silent question.
When he looked up at her she saw with even greater distress that he was somewhere between laughing and crying.
'Christ, Sylvia!'� The words were wrenched from his lips as though speaking caused him pain. 'What is happening to us? What are we going to do?'�
She sank into the chair weakly. 'What do you mean?'�
'What do you think I mean?'� His eyes were a little crazy and he looked stunned that she didn't instantly comprehend him. 'We're both working our butts off to try to make ends meet and we can't even do that! I feel like a friggin' failure that my wife is out busting her hump every night and dragging herself in the door exhausted instead of taking care of my kid.'�
'That's just the way it has to be right now.'� She said reassuringly, although the words were empty since she had thrown that argument at him many times in the heat of a fight. 'I don't mind.'�
'Yeah, well, we both know that's a lie, don't we? But even if you didn't mind, I do.'� He continued on, calmer than before but with defeat in his voice. 'It's not just that. It's us, too.'�
'What about us?'� She asked, knowing the answer but not wanting to hear the words out in the open.
'Well, God knows I'm not happy and you sure as hell don't look happy to see me when I walk in the door most days.'� His voice dropped to a near-whisper. 'I can remember when I couldn't wait to come home and see you. Now'�'�
'Now, what?'�
'Now'�'� He gestured half-heartedly around the cramped apartment. 'Everything feels so empty. I'm lonely and tired and I'm not sure I can go on this way anymore. If I had the hope that things would get better, maybe it would make a difference.'�
'What do you want from me?'� She asked defensively, her voice tremulous. 'What words will make it all better for you, Mitch?'�
'Maybe you could tell me that you still love me.'� He said simply, his eyes meeting hers with a directness that they hadn't held for months. 'Do you, Sylvia? Do you still love me?'�
'Do you still love me?'� She shot back, unwilling to look into her own heart. It was easier to turn the tables and always had been. It was the look in his eyes, considering and sad, that made her realize the tactical maneuver had been a mistake. A stone lodged in her heart and her head began to pulse with sudden pain.
'I don't know anymore.'�
They sat staring at each other for another minute in silence before Sylvia's defenses began to kick in. Internalization had never been one of her stronger points and the vulnerability that she suddenly felt in front of her husband enraged her.
'Well, isn't that terrific?'� Her voice was dripping with bitter sarcasm. 'Where does that leave us, Mitch?'�
'I don't know that either.'�
'Well, I guess we should start figuring it out, shouldn't we? After all, we do have a child to think about.'� She lifted her chin to stare at him, not realizing that she had never looked more like her mother than at that moment. 'Or do you just plan to move on and leave me with Sarah?'�
'I never said that, Sylvia.'� Mitch's voice was still calm, but an underlying vein of anger was beginning to throb. 'You should know me better than that by now.'�
'Well, I'm starting to think that maybe I don't know you at all.'� The retort fueled her anger even more and she was suddenly tingling with righteous indignation. 'I mean, look at where I am now compared to where I could have been. You haven't heard me whining and complaining, have you?'�
'What does that mean?'� The question was dangerous; Mitch's eyes had turned to ice. 'Where could you have been?'�
'Come on, Mitch!'� She laughed derisively. 'I could have had a career, money, prestige. I could have done anything with my life, but instead I got knocked up.'�
'And married beneath yourself, is that it?'�
'You tell me.'� She threw back, her face red and angry.
'So it was all a mistake?'�
'Married, with a kid at twenty-two?'� She looked around incredulously. 'Living in a dump? What do you think?'�
'I don't believe you.'� He shook his head in disgust. 'Were you ever not your mother's daughter? I can hardly believe that you're so willing to dismiss me and your daughter so quickly.'�
'My point is that I'm still here.'� She replied, her voice suddenly a little less sure. 'I'm not giving up just because we've screwed up our lives.'�
'I never said I was giving up, Sylvia.'� Mitch stood and walked to the kitchen, draining a glass of water from the tap before he turned to look at her again. 'But I'm not sure that just 'being here' is good enough for me anymore. I'm getting real tired of martyrdom from both of us and I certainly don't intend to spend the rest of my life living this way for no other reason than to say I didn't give up.'�
The fear and anger that his words created rose up into her throat, nearly choking her. Looking at the clock, she muttered, 'I've got to get to work.'�
Snatching her purse and keys, she fled the apartment and left Mitch standing at the kitchen sink staring at the floor.
She drove to work in a daze, trying not to think about the conversation but unable to think of anything else.
Clocking in, she began her shift woodenly, greeting customers and checking them out politely but distantly. The job was repetitive and boring, but paid benefits and was a shift that allowed her to not put Sarah in daycare. She hated it and had been embarrassed at first when she saw her old classmates, when she had to check out their purchases and try to avoid the pity and contempt in their eyes. But after awhile she had grown numb and she simply went on autopilot. She wasn't qualified for anything that paid better and that had the hours she needed, she had to have benefits, and they still had school loans from that first year to pay off. It was a necessary evil.
At her first fifteen-minute break, she considered calling Sarah to tell her goodnight, but then decided against it. She didn't want to talk to Mitch and she was still in turmoil from the questions he had raised in her mind.
Did she love Mitch? She simply didn't know anymore; her mind and spirit were so tired from endless months on this hamster wheel that never got them anywhere. They had never been a content couple and had often fought. Their backgrounds were too different and they were both too headstrong for their marriage to be docile. But she remembered loving him with a passion that left her reeling and weak. Now it seemed that the boy she had loved was buried beneath a man who was disappointed in her and the life they had made together.
But why shouldn't he be, she asked herself. I'm not much of a wife and was nowhere ready to be a mother. Sarah was a mistake, she thought sadly and with a great deal of guilt. Sylvia loved her daughter, but she missed being young and carefree and in love with life. When Sarah was born the reality of their situation, combined with the hospital debt when they failed to produce medical insurance, was brought sharply into focus for them each month.
She tried to push her thoughts aside and get back into her shift, but was barely back at her register before her manager hurried over to her.
'Sylvia, you've got a phone call on line seven.'� The woman's eyes were large and sympathetic. 'Why don't you take it in the office?'�
Feeling her heat skip a beat, she walked slowly to the glass-enclosed room and picked up the phone.
'Hello?'�
'Sylvia?'� It was Mitch, but his voice was all wrong, thick and congested. 'Oh God, Sylvia, I'm so sorry.'�
'Mitch?'� Her hand started to tremble and she suddenly wanted to throw down the phone and hide in the corner like a child. 'What's wrong?'�
'I don't know how it happened.'� She realized that he was weeping, this big strong macho man who hated to cry. 'She was laughing and having a good time and all of a sudden she fell and she wouldn't say anything.'� He sobbed brokenly for a moment. 'She just laid there with her little eyes closed.'�
She felt the room start to close in around and she could hardly breathe, but she forced the words out in a strained whisper. 'Mitch. Where are you?'� She closed her eyes, saw her daughter's face and a strangled sob came up into her throat. 'Is she dead?'�
It seemed like forever before he replied. 'No. We're at the hospital.'� He was hardly coherent, but she heard him say. 'It's bad, Sylvia, it's so bad. I need you to come right now.'�
She hung up the phone, feeling for the cradle blindly. She wanted to fall to pieces, but she was afraid that if she did that somehow that would tip the scales against her baby. So she walked out to the manager and said she had to leave and then walked out to her car.
Fumbling with her keys because her hands were shaking, she gave in for a moment and leaned her head against the car window and felt the word swirling around her. Her thoughts just an hour earlier echoed in her head: Sarah was a mistake.
Oh God, she cried out in anguish, I didn't mean it. Please don't take my baby from me. Sinking to the ground beside her car, she put her head in her hands.
Feeling a hand on her shoulder, she looked up and saw her manager standing beside her with a look of concern.
'Sylvia, what can I do to help?'� She asked softly. 'Has something happened?'�
Sylvia shook her head mutely, afraid to speak for fear that she would break down completely. Finally, she had enough control that she could say, 'My daughter. She's at the hospital.'�
'Why don't you leave your car here and let me drive you?'� She held out her hand and helped Sylvia to her feet, putting a bracing arm around the younger woman. 'I don't think you're in any shape to be driving.'�
They drove the fifteen-minute drive in silence and Sylvia thanked the woman as she let her out at the emergency room door. Bracing herself, she walked inside and went up to the clerk. Directed back to a set of rooms, she walked down the hallway, terrified of finding Mitch and seeing the look on his face.
But finally she saw him, seated in a row of chairs, with his elbows on his legs and his eyes on the floor. Hearing footsteps, he raised his eyes and saw Sylvia. He stood and walked to her, putting his arms around her and holding her tight against him. She hugged him back, hard, sensing that the contact was more for his sake than to reassure her.
Finally, he pulled back and met her eyes briefly, his own bloodshot and stark, before he broke the contact and looked away.
'Where is she?'� Sylvia asked urgently. 'What's happened? Is she okay?'�
Mitch swallowed and she saw that although he was more in control than when she has spoken to him on the phone, that his hold on it was fragile.
'She's in there.'� He nodded his head toward a room that had the blinds drawn. 'No, she's not okay.'�
'God, Mitch, don't just say that. Tell me what happened!'� Hysteria bubbled up into her voice and she forced herself to calm down. Be strong for Sarah, she told herself.
Mitch motioned to the chairs and she sat silently, waiting for him to begin. He finally found his voice and began to tell her, haltingly, about what had led them here.
'I was upset when you left, even more upset when your mother dropped Sarah off and I had to interact with her.'� She sensed that there was more he could say, but he chose not to. 'I fed her some dinner and then just couldn't' stand to stay in the apartment anymore.
'I put her little shoes on her and we walked to the playground. I thought that she'd have a good time and maybe I'd feel better if I could watch her laughing and playing.'� He swallowed again and looked at the floor. 'There were other kids there and she was having a blast. She finally got up the courage to go down the big slide and she wanted to do it, so I helped her climb the stairs and caught her at the bottom.'�
Mitch stopped speaking and sat there staring at the floor silently, as though unable to continue. Sylvia wanted to tell him that he didn't have to tell her anymore, that everything would have to be okay, but she knew she had to hear all of it. So she prodded, 'Then what?'�
'She did that a couple of times and she started getting really brave and wanting to go up the stairs by herself. You know how she is. But I would stand there and be ready to catch her if she fell and then hurry to the other side to be ready to get her as she slid down to the bottom.'� He shook his head, as though to clear it or try to understand the memory in his head, then continued on in a shaky voice, 'I don't know what happened. I must have gotten distracted, because I looked up and didn't see her and kind of panicked and started calling her name. Then I saw her standing at the top of the slide, looking at me and laughing and calling out, 'Daddy, daddy''�.
Mitch's voice broke and he sobbed, 'She was smiling so big and she looked so proud of herself that I laughed and said, 'Big girl' because I was so relieved that I knew where she was and so proud of her for doing it on her own. And then the next thing I knew she was pitching forward over the slide where the gap is and she was on the ground.'� He was openly crying now, sobbing, 'She just laid there and I ran over and her little eyes were close. God, I thought she was dead! I kept calling her name and she wouldn't answer. Somebody called 911 and the paramedics came and strapped her little body to a board and put her in the ambulance. The doctors haven't told me much, but they said she landed on her neck funny. It was concrete, Sylvia, concrete!'�
She put her hand on his knee, tears running down her face as she pictured it. He looked up at her with eyes that were full of self-condemnation, eyes that begged her to forgive him. 'If I hadn't looked away, I never would have let her go up alone. It's so big and she's still so little. But she looked so proud that all I could think was what a little climber she was, my little strong girl.'�
Grief choked her and she suddenly felt a blinding rage toward her husband and she cried, 'Why weren't you watching her the whole time? If you had been watching her this never would have happened!'�
Almost immediately after the words left her mouth she thought of all the near misses she had with Sarah, the 'almosts' that had never happened and always left her feeling grateful for their luck. She knew it could have been her just as easily. With that thought and the look of desperate guilt on her husband's face, she threw her arms around him and they cried together until the sobs subsided.
They sat there together quietly until the doctor came out and sat beside them, his face grave and sympathetic while he used medical terms that Sylvia's aching head couldn't grasp. Finally, she broke in urgently.
'So you're saying that she hasn't woken up because of the way she hit her head?'�
'Essentially, yes.'�
'And it's her spine?'� Sylvia was having a hard time putting everything together, but she felt desperate to understand what was wrong with her baby girl. 'Will she be okay?'�
'At this point we can't really be certain of anything.'� The doctor's voice was gentle, but she could see that his eyes were already moving on. This wasn't his little girl, only one of many patients that he would see that evening. With an effort he made eye contact again. 'She is in a coma right now and she isn't responding to any stimuli. We just have to watch her and monitor her progress.'�
'But what does that mean?'� Her brain felt slow, stupid. She knew that she must be repeating herself, but she couldn't let him walk away without giving them answers. 'She'll wake up, right?'�
'We really don't know at this point.'� He stood and signaled the end of the conversation. 'We will continue to run tests and monitor her. She will have the best care and we will all pray and hope for the best. I'll keep you up-to-date on what is going on with your little girl.'�
He patted her on the shoulder and gave Mitch a reassuring look. 'Try to get some rest and not to worry. There's still hope.'�
As he started to walk away, Sylvia called after him frantically, 'Can I see her?'�
He turned back and nodded his head, 'Of course you can. I'm sorry I didn't think to ask if you would like to.'� He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. 'It's been a busy night.'�
He led Sylvia and Mitch into the room where their daughter lay unconscious and pointed to some bedside chairs. 'Stay as long as you like. Feel free to talk to her and touch her. You never know what may help.'�
Left alone in the room with Sarah, Sylvia felt oddly reluctant to approach the bed and see her baby lying so still and quiet in the bed. But she forced herself to walk over and look down at Sarah's little face. If it weren't for the little girl's unnatural pallor, she could have simply been sleeping. The tubes that connected her to monitors and an IV belied the calmness in the room.
Sylvia reached down and touched her daughter's cheek, trying to stem the tears that flowed down her face. Behind her, Mitch made a small sound of anguish that echoed what was in her own heart.
'I can't stay in here.'� He said abruptly, and then fled the room.
Sylvia let him go, feeling what she knew was irrational anger at his lack of coping abilities. She pulled the chair over beside the bed and sat on the edge of it, leaning forward so that she could touch her daughter's arms and hands and smooth her hair.
'Sarah, Mommy is here.'� She whispered to her softly, hoping to see the beautiful brown eyes open and look up at her. She noticed suddenly how streaked with blonde the brown ringlets had become over the summer, how long the golden lashes were that lay on Sarah's cheeks. She even noticed a faint spattering of freckles over the golden skin across her round cheeks. With a pang she realized that she looked at her daughter every day without even really seeing her.
'I've just been so tired.'� She whispered to herself, but she knew that was only a half-truth. She had often thought that her pregnancy with Sarah was when her life had begun to change for the worse. Have I really blamed her for it, she asked herself with overwhelming guilt.
Sylvia was a practical person, but she felt superstitiously afraid at that moment. Afraid that her lack of gratitude for this tiny miracle that she had been given would be repaid with tragedy. Afraid that perhaps she was being taught a lesson that would be too difficult to bear.
'Sarah, just wake up for Mommy and I promise that things will be different.'� She whispered into her daughter's hair, feeling the silken strands against her mouth. 'I will hold you all the time and I will play with you and I'll sit and watch your cartoons with you like you want me to.'�
'Sylvia?'�
She turned and saw her mother standing there, her face ashen and her mouth trembling. Elaine opened her arms to her daughter and Sylvia went into them unthinkingly, simply wanting to be held and comforted.
They hugged and then she broke away awkwardly, asking her mother, 'How did you know?'�
'Mitch called me.'� Elaine said shortly. 'He said that you would probably need me and that he knew we should be here.'�
'Oh.'� Sylvia hadn't even thought to call anyone, so consumed had she been by grief. 'I'm glad you came.'�
'What happened?'�
'She fell off the top of the slide and hit the concrete platform below.'� Sylvia closed her eyes, still able to picture it too perfectly to not shudder. 'She landed on her neck. It's something to do with her spine.'�
'Where was Mitch when this happened?
As quickly as that, Sylvia's walls came back up. 'Don't start, Mother,'� She said through tight lips.
'It seems like a valid question.'� Elaine's voice was bitter. 'I mean, three hours alone with her and this happens?'�
'It was an accident.'� Sylvia's voice raised, then looking at her daughter in the bed, she quickly lowered it again. 'You know, this is horrible and I'm barely getting through it as it is. Mitch is a good father and if you came around a little bit more, maybe you'd get to see it. If you whisper even a word of blame to him, I swear that I will make sure you regret it.'�
'Sylvia'�'� Her mother paused, then looked down at the floor. When she met her daughter's gaze again, there were tears in her eyes. 'You're right. This isn't the time or the place. I apologize. I'm going to go and get some coffee. Do you want anything?'�
Sylvia shook her head mutely and watched her mother leave the room quickly. She sat there, listening to the machines and watching her daughter's tiny chest rise and fall. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard the door open and close behind her. She smelled Mitch's scent before she saw him, that same scent that used to make her want to burrow her head in his chest and just breathe deep. Now, as his hand fell awkwardly onto her shoulder, she just wanted to shake him off and remove herself from him physically.
'I thought maybe you'd like something to eat.'� He said faintly. She thought to herself how weak he sounded and she wondered, childlike, why he didn't do something. Something to make it all better. Something that would make their daughter sit up in bed and be okay.
Turning, she saw that he was holding out a vending machine candy bar. She simply stared at him for a moment, then she accepted it silently, their fingers brushing in the exchange. Peeling the wrapper, she began to eat mindlessly, then nearly vomited as she tried to swallow the sticky, sweet mess. Swallowing convulsively, she tried to control the wave of nausea and tears she felt rising in her.
'Here's some water.'�
She took the cup and drank in tiny sips, thankful to have the task to focus on. Looking up, she met his eyes for the first time since he had entered the room. He looked like he had been in hell for days already, even though it had only been hours. Then she wondered if maybe they had been in hell for days, weeks, months. Sarah being in this place seemed like a culmination of months of misery, a punishment on them for not being good at marriage or parenthood or life.
'What are you thinking about?'� He asked her quietly.
'I don't think you want me to go there.'�
He looked at her steadily, and she was reminded of their conversation earlier in the day. It was almost as though Mitch had reached a place beyond anger or harsh words and was now simply dealing with honesty. It scared her and it shamed her, because it made her anger toward him seem so petty and childlike.
'Look,'� she said, with a deep breath, 'I think that there is a lot going on here emotionally. And when I look at our daughter lying there, all I can think of is that she wouldn't be here if you had taken better care of her.'�
Mitch said nothing, but she saw his hands tighten around his cup of coffee. She went on quickly, 'But I know that isn't fair and I need to get over it.'�
'Don't you think I'm blaming myself right now?'� He looked at the floor, then back up to meet her eyes. 'I mean, all I could think as I was holding her little body before the EMS got there was that I've screwed up the last thing in my life that means anything.'�
'Mitch'�'�
'I mean, every day I get home from work and I'm exhausted, you know? And there's this little person wanting me, needing me.'� He dropped his eyes to the floor again and lowered his voice to where she had to strain to hear him. 'All I want to do is sit on the couch with a beer and try to tell myself that my life isn't turning into this gigantic piece of shit, and there's Sarah wanting me to play with her. Or wanting to go out and play. Or needing something to eat or drink. I've spent so much time since she was born resenting her needs, just doing the minimum for her to try to keep her content so she wouldn't yell.'�
'Then in one minute I saw the possibility of it all being gone. And I wanted every minute with her back, so that I could be the sort of Dad now that I thought I'd turn into when I wasn't so tired. When we got money and a house someday,'� He laughed bitterly. 'And all I could think was what if I never get the chance now?'�
He stood up and drained his cup, throwing it in the trash. 'Trust me, Sylvia. You can't blame me or hate me anymore than I'm doing to myself.'�
He was out the door before she could call him back. Hanging her head, hot tears poured down her face in a torrent of grief and fear. She felt like everything in her life was breaking to pieces and she couldn't reach out her hands fast enough to keep the most precious fragments from falling to the ground and being trampled.
Looking up at her daughter, she dried her eyes and stroked the child's limp arm.
'Sarah, honey, we're here for you. Mommy and Daddy both love you so much and we just want you to wake up now.'� Tears welled in her eyes again as she thought of what it might mean if her daughter didn't wake up. 'I promise that things will be different when you wake up.'�
With a flash of rare insight she saw how mired in self-pity and selfishness she had been for the last two years. In blaming Mitch, her parents, and her unplanned pregnancy, she hadn't stopped to really look at her own actions. Thoughts circled around in her mind like vultures, looking for vulnerability. But she was simply too tired to analyze it all right now.
After a few hours Mitch came in, his eyes grim and determined.
'I'm going to sit with her for awhile.'�
'I don't want to leave her.'�
'Fine. But I'm staying in here with her, whether it's uncomfortable for us both or not.'� He walked over and stroked Sarah's hair gently. 'I've been avoiding being in here with her out of fear and guilt, but that's done. By God, if this is the last time that I get to spend with her, then I'm going to spend it with her.'�
Sylvia watched him pull up a chair beside hers and he sat in it heavily, weighed down with exhaustion and emotion. The silence stretched on like a highway, punctuated only by the droning of the machines. Finally she could stand it no longer.
'I'm sorry that I blamed you.'� The words were stiff and tense.
Mitch clasped his hands between open knees. 'I can't say I wouldn't have done the same. It was a shock to hear and you were hurting.'�
His words relaxed her slightly and she rolled her neck on her shoulders in an effort to relax. 'Still, it was wrong of me. You're a good dad and I know that you love Sarah.'�
His half-smile was wry and bitter. 'I do love her, but I can't say that I'm a good dad. I was thinking about it a lot in the waiting room.'�
'You've been in the waiting room this whole time?'�
'Where did you think I've been? At home?'� His look was both incredulous and sad. 'Maybe I couldn't hack being in this room with her at first, but I wouldn't leave.'�
She closed her eyes, wondering how they had gotten to this awkward place in their relationship so quickly. She then realized it had been building for months now. The vision of her tiny daughter's body flying through open air and the imagined sound of flesh connecting with concrete had been the final blow. Making an effort she opened her eyes and looked at Mitch.
'Sorry. What is it you were thinking?'�
'I've been thinking about the difference between just doing something out of reflex and planning and thinking on something before you do it.'� He flexed his fingers into a fist, then opened them. 'Like baseball. I'm good at baseball. I see the ball and I open my hand and catch it. Give me a bat and I can make contact by instinct.'� He opened and closed his hand quickly. 'Reflex.'�
'But parenting.'� He thought for a minute, gathering his words carefully. 'It's not so much about reflex as it is thinking about what you want to do and how you want to do it. It's more like chess.'� Smiling a little, he sheepishly met her eyes. 'I was never very good at chess. Remember right after we met when you tried to teach me?'�
'So you've been parenting like you play baseball?'� She asked, striking the memory of sitting at the coffee house and laughing over Mitch's failed attempts at strategy from her mind.
'Pretty much. It's been reactive; a ball gets thrown at me and I catch it and that's about it. I haven't put much thought into what I want to do with it and what my next move should be.'� He turned to her and his brown eyes were earnest above the circles of exhaustion. 'I just think that when she wakes up, it will be like being given a second chance. This time I don't want to just react, I want to plan and think about it.'�
They sat silently again, both of them considering and mulling over the words. Sylvia started to speak, then stopped suddenly.
'What is it?'� He asked.
'I do that too.'�
'What?'�
'I just react.'� She sighed and closed her eyes. 'I hardly ever think beyond that minute. I'm too tired, too stressed.'�
After a moment she said quietly, almost to herself, 'I slapped her that morning. I was looking at bills and got upset and cursed. She repeated me instantly and I just reacted and slapped her. Hard.'�
Mitch said nothing.
'I told her I was sorry, but I keep seeing that look in her eyes over and over again, that sort of shocked hurt.'� She squeezed her eyes tighter, but the tears began to seep out and her breath started to come in gasps. 'I was so happy when Mom came and got her because I just kept thinking, 'Thank God I'll get a little breather'.'�
'Sylvia,'� Mitch's voice was low and soothing, but she cut him off with a swipe of her hand through the air.
'No, Mitch.'� She choked out. 'What kind of mother am I? Crap, that's what kind. Selfish. All I've been thinking about for the past two years is all the chances I've given up and how hard it is. What I could have done with my life if only'�'�
'If only what?'�
Sylvia's sobs slowed and she forced the words out in a harsh whisper. 'If only I hadn't gotten pregnant.'�
The bleak honesty of the words were too much and she wrapped her arms around her stomach and leaned forward, her sobs uncontrollable. She cried in wrenching, painful bursts for several moments, then she felt Mitch's arms come around her. She leaned into his neck and cried some more until she felt the storm of emotion begin to pass. Still, she stayed in his arms for a moment, allowing herself to calm down.
Finally, Mitch leaned down and tilted her face up with his hands until they were looking in each other's eyes.
'Sylvia, if I know one thing in my heart it is that you love Sarah. And she knows that you love her, even if you have made mistakes. Don't hold a few stray, ugly thoughts against yourself.'� His thumbs rubbed gently against her jaw and he sighed. 'I think that we've both felt regrets about how Sarah came into the world and how much we've had to give up because of it. But neither of us regret Sarah. How could we?'�
As a unit they looked toward the bed. Finally, Mitch stood a little awkwardly and moved back to his chair. Sylvia realized with a bit of surprise that she felt regret at his physical absence. How long has it been since we held each other in true tenderness, she wondered to herself.
Over the next twenty-four hours they maintained a slight distance emotionally, each of them assessing and gauging, each of them turned inward. They took turns going home to shower and change, both of them making the departure as brief as possible. They sometimes took shifts, with one of them sleeping on a cot in the hospital room and one of them sitting beside her bed. Sometimes Sylvia would watch as Mitch coiled tighter and tighter and he would suddenly spring from the chair as if someone had found the release switch, nearly sprinting from the room so that he could walk the halls over and over. She remembered when she was in labor with Sarah how difficult it had been for him to stay by her side; she had thought at the time that her suffering was harder on Mitch than it was on her.
Sylvia herself bounced between emotions in a way that was as foreign to her as the medical jargon that the doctors continued to throw at them to explain Sarah's condition. At moments she found herself numb, almost suspended in disbelief that this could have happened. Then later she'd be angry, mentally railing at herself and Mitch for their mistakes. During the moments when she spoke to Sarah in an attempt to communicate her love and presence, she felt such tenderness that she could hardly believe that she wouldn't be given a second chance to shower her daughter with the love she was feeling. Her thoughts about Mitch were still somewhat murky and undefined, but she realized that the blame she had assigned to him was now gone. She felt more of a shared responsibility with him and even felt a sense of understanding when he would suddenly bolt from the room to pace off the tension and anger.
On the third day after the accident, she was returning from having changed and showered at home to find Mitch sitting beside the bed and holding Sarah's hand. She walked up behind him and said softly, 'Any change?'�
He shook his head and gestured toward the empty chair beside him. She sat beside him and studied his profile and thought to herself what a handsome man he was. Sarah looks so much like him, she thought proudly.
'So, what happens next, Sylvia?'� Mitch's voice cut into her thoughts, his voice more discouraged than she had heard in days.
She considered pretending that she didn't know what he meant, but she felt that over the course of the past few days she had grown up quickly. 'It's hard for me to think about that right now, Mitch.'� She admitted, adding, 'I feel like our lives are on hold until Sarah wakes up.'�
'And if she doesn't?'� The words lashed through the air and the sting cut her across the heart unexpectedly. Drawing a quick breath she answered, 'She will.'�
Mitch raked his hands through his hair, then turned to her with a look she couldn't read. 'And if she doesn't, then what happens to us? At this point, if Sarah was not part of the equation, would there even be an us?'�
Staring at him with shocked eyes, she stood and began to walk around the room. Finally she turned and in a harsh voice said, 'I don't know how you can even ask me that right now, with her lying there in the room.'�
'What does it matter?'� He cried, his raised voice a blasphemy in that sterile white room. 'She's just lying there, she can't hear us, and she can't see us. If I just had a sign, then I could hope. But I don't have that, do I?'�
'The doctors say'�'�
'Screw the doctors!'� He yelled, his dark eyes twin pools of anger. 'They come in here once in awhile to tell us not to give up hope, but at the same time not to hope too much. They don't care, Sylvia!'�
She didn't know what to say at his sudden outburst. As usual, Mitch's loss of control left her scared and her first instinct was to simply react rather that think about what her fear meant.
'So what? You want to talk about the details of our marriage right now and get everything squared away in case our child dies? Is that it?'� She demanded, moving into his space, meeting his anger head-on.
He faltered and his eyes flickered away, causing her own anger to dissolve into confusion. He dropped into his seat.
'I don't know. No.'�
'What are you asking me, Mitch?'�
He shrugged and made a half-hearted attempt to look collected. 'I guess I'm asking how much you're still invested in this marriage.'�
'I'm still here.'�
'You're still here because of Sarah and because you're too stubborn to let your mother believe she was right.'� A ghost of a smile hovered at his lips, then disappeared as he looked over at her. 'Right?'�
She didn't know what to tell him, so she simply voiced the truth. 'I don't know right now.'�
He nodded, accepting that. 'I don't know either.'�
They sat together thinking, then Mitch said wistfully, 'Don't you wish it all could be as simple as our wedding day? I remember watching you walk down that aisle and thinking that you were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. Knowing that you were carrying our baby just made that day even more special. I didn't even have the sense to be scared. I just thought I was the luckiest man in the world.'�
She cocked her head sideways and looked at him in surprise. 'Really?'�
'Yeah.'� He snorted, 'Of course, knowing what I know now about having a kid, I should have been scared shitless. But maybe it's better that you start off stupid.'�
She laughed, then covered her mouth as though she had done something wrong. Looking at him she smiled wryly. 'I was terrified.'�
'I know.'� He smiled again. 'I kind of figured that out when you came pounding on my door holding that pregnancy stick like a knife you were going to stab me with. You flailed it around for half an hour like you could change the results if you just shook it hard enough.'�
Remembering that day, she had to laugh. Mitch laughed with her and it helped to dispel some of the tension left in the room.
His voice careful and his face guarded, he asked, 'Did you say yes because you were pregnant?'�
Her eyes filled and she reached out her hand and laid it gently on his arm. 'No. I said yes because I loved you. Sarah just speeded things up a little.'�
His face relaxed and she wondered how many times he had wondered. It also made her realize that she had never done enough to make him realize that she loved him.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to plunge in. 'Mitch, I asked you earlier and you didn't really answer me. Do you still love me?'�
He hesitated and her heart quivered and lay exposed like an animal to the kill in the seconds before he answered. Finally he said, 'Yes, but it's just gotten so complicated lately that I don't really feel it that often.'�
'What would it take for things to be better between us? For us to feel like we did on our wedding day?'�
'I don't know, Sylvia. How did you feel on our wedding day, besides scared?'�
She thought back to the girl in the white dress, holding a bouquet of wildflowers across the belly that was just starting to round. 'I felt like I was being given a gift. I mean, I was terrified at the thought of being a wife and a mother, but I loved you and I already loved the child growing inside me. For once I felt like I had made a decision that wasn't complicated by social status or money or my parent's approval. It was simply what I wanted. It was made out of love.'� Her mouth twisted a little as she added, 'Of course, it didn't turn out to be so uncomplicated, did it?'�
'Would you do it again? If you could make the choice over, would you still have my child? Would you still marry me?'�
'Yes.'� She said without hesitation. She felt a quick surprise that she hadn't had to think it through, after all the time she had spent in misery over the past couple of years. 'Yes,'� she whispered again, almost in surprise.
Their eyes were still locked as they heard the door open and heard the voices of their parents floating into the room. Throughout the next few hours as family arrived again to visit, as they had throughout the past few days, Sylvia would look up and meet Mitch's eyes and feel a flicker of something like hope.
They didn't talk again until the next morning, but Sylvia found herself drifting back to the past as Mitch slept on the cot.
She remembered the twined triumph and fear that coursed through her as she handed the test stick to her mother and watched for her reaction. She remembered the disappointment in her mother's eyes and the yelling and tears that followed. But time and a new perspective made her wonder how much of her mothers reaction was precipitated by her own defiance and rage. She had felt at odds with her mother since the day she turned thirteen; part of her felt like she had finally won by refusing to follow the plan that had been laid out for her. She had refused financial assistance. She had refused the offer her mother had made for her to live at home and continue to go to school during her pregnancy. She had even refused the final offer that her mother had made, her eyes desperate and angry at Sylvia's stubbornness, to allow she and Mitch to move in with them while they both attended college.
How much would have changed if I had accepted help, she wondered. Of course, she knew that Mitch probably would have refused the offer of moving in with her family. But if they had allowed their family in more, would they have been trapped in this whirlwind existence that barely left them enough to live on?
Hearing Mitch stir, she looked over to see him sitting up on the cot and rubbing his eyes. Her mind was spinning with 'what if's' and she barely gave him time to wake up.
'Would you have let my family help us when I got pregnant?'� She demanded.
He looked at her blankly for a moment, then cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly before saying, 'What? What are you talking about?'�
'My mother offered to help us before we got married and I told her that we didn't need her help.'� As usual, she took the offensive to cover her own doubts and fear. 'I just thought that you would never accept anything from my family, so I didn't even bring it up.'�
'Oh. Your own personal grudge against your family had nothing to do with it?'� His voice was wry, but he quickly went on when her face darkened. 'I probably would have said no.'�
'That's what I thought.'� She felt a little bit of validation until she saw the thoughtful look on Mitch's face. 'What?'�
'Well, I would have said no then.'� He shrugged and gave her a half-smile. 'But if I could have looked in a crystal ball and seen what the future would be. I don't know. I might have said something different.'�
'And what was the future?'� She asked softly.
'Well, hell Sylvia, like you don't already know.'� His voice was irritated and she felt like withdrawing again. But she knew that something had to change between them and so she pushed onward.
'I know what you've said, that last night before the accident and since.'� She paused, 'But if you could go back and do it all over again, what should we do different?'�
'God.'� He stood and began to pace. 'That's a pretty tough question. I mean, I don't regret Sarah, yet getting knocked out of college financially and getting married so young'�that wasn't the brightest thing we could have done. So logically I would say not using a rubber. But then that means no Sarah. You see the dilemma.'�
'So do you think that we're just screwed?'�
'I don't know.'� He stuck his hands in his pocket and rocked back and forth on his feet, looking at the floor. 'We're in no real shape financially to have one of us quit working, we can't afford daycare, but we see each other only a few hours a week. It's no way for us to live as a couple or parents.'�
'What if that could change? What if we could go back to school and get our degrees and find a way to be together more as a couple?'�
He barked a laugh. 'Sounds great. I've been trying to come up with a way to do that for two friggin' years. Want to tell me how you've thought of it just off the top of your head?'�
She swallowed hard. 'I could ask my parents for a loan. Or we could move in with them.'�
He stared at her for a moment in shocked silence, and then exploded with, 'You've got to be out of your freaking mind. Your parents hate me! I thought all those questions about what I would have done back when were just to pass the time.'�
Anger rose to the surface quickly and a sharp retort was nearly out of her mouth when she happened to look at the bed. Her daughter's eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.
She leaped from her chair so quickly that she knocked it backwards, rushing forward to peer into Sarah's face. Mitch's face, darkened with anger, suddenly was wiped clean of all emotion as he realized what had happened. Then he too was at Sarah's side, looking into her eyes and touching her hand.
'Sarah, Sarah look at Mommy and Daddy.'�
Sarah's eyes turned toward them and she looked from one to another, a slightly unfocused expression in her eyes. Then she closed her eyes again.
'Mitch,'� Sylvia's voice held panic. 'Mitch, what is happening?'�
Mitch's voice was pseudo calm as he said, 'Sylvia, just calm down. I'm getting the doctor.'�
Sylvia waited the few moments it took for Mitch to locate a doctor, who charged into the room with an authoritative stride. He checked Sarah's vital signs and opened her eyelids to peer into them. At the intrusion, Sarah whimpered and closed her eyes tighter.
The doctor smiled and turned to them with hope in his eyes. Sylvia allowed herself to breathe and she felt Mitch slide his hand into hers.
Over the next few hours there was a stream of people in and out of the room, monitoring Sarah and her progress back toward consciousness. Sylvia grasped that her daughter was tired and that her recovery would still take time, but that they were being given a miraculous reprieve from the worst.
When Sarah finally opened her eyes again and said in a tiny voice, 'Mommy?'� Sarah burst into tears and covered her daughter's face with kisses in a lavish display of affection that was uncharacteristic for her. Mitch followed suit and they stood together by their daughter's bedside, more attuned to each other than they had been for months.
After Sarah finally fell back asleep, following a story and many kisses and small touches that reassured Sylvia that her daughter was really awake, she looked over at Mitch to find him watching her with a smile on his face.
'What?'� She asked, self-consciously.
'Nothing.'� He said, and then cleared his throat in embarrassment. 'You're just really beautiful. I loved watching you with her just then. You looked so relaxed and happy.'�
'How could I not be happy? I feel like we've been given that second chance.'�
He nodded, his eyes not quite meeting hers. 'About what I was saying before'�'�
'About my ideas about my parents?'�
'Yeah.'� He hesitated. 'I'm not sure that is the answer, but I know that I want to find the answer.'�
'You do?'� Her voice was vulnerable.
'I can't go on like before.'� Mitch's face was inscrutable, his voice certain.
'Oh.'� Sylvia let out a quavering breath and felt her heart begin that painful ache.
'But I want to go on.'� Mitch leaned forward and touched her face. 'Sylvia, I still love you and I want to be with you. But we have to find a way to make things different or we won't be any good for each other or for Sarah.'�
She closed her eyes at his words, relief making tears slide from beneath her lashes and leave a wet trail down her face.
'I want things to be different too, Mitch.'� She whispered. 'I don't like who I've become, with you or with Sarah. I want to start over from this moment. I'm just scared that I'll screw it up. I don't know what to do different.'�
'Let's start with figuring it out together.'� He said, pulling her into his arms and resting his head on her hair. 'We stopped talking a long time ago. Maybe if we start a form of communication that doesn't involve us yelling, we can figure things out.'�
She and Mitch talked through the next few hours and, although tempers flared occasionally, both of them felt like they were closer to happiness than they had been in a long time.
Every moment that Sarah was awake, they spent holding her hand and talking to her, reading her favorites stories one after another.
Sylvia found herself alone with her daughter after awhile, Mitch having gone to get a shower. Sarah was sleeping, her tiny face flushed and warm in the way that only a small child's can be. Sylvia sat beside her, stroking her hair and wondering how she could have ever resented this miracle that she had been given.
Leaning over her daughter, she brushed a kiss on her forehead and whispered, 'I am so glad that I'm your Mommy. I love you so much, Sarah.'�
She heard someone come in behind her and she turned her head slightly to see her mother standing in the doorway.
Standing, she moved toward her mother and wrapped her arms around her. Surprised, Elaine returned the hug awkwardly and after a moment they both pulled away feeling a little uncomfortable. But Elaine smiled at her daughter tentatively and Sylvia returned it.
Walking over and resuming her seat, she patted the chair beside her. Then, her heart in her throat, Sylvia met her mother's eyes and said, 'Mom, I think we need to talk'�
Hours later, after her mother had hugged her again and left, her face tear-streaked and pale, Sylvia sat in the dimmed lighting alone and thoughtful. She knew that the path ahead would be rocky for everyone. Despite the best of intentions, she and Mitch would have to work hard to maintain their resolve. Their differences would tear at them like thorns and slow their progress as a couple and as parents. And she knew she had a lot of changes to make to be the sort of mother that Sarah deserved. Her relationship with her parents, so long fractured, would need a lot of nurturing to heal.
Tiredly, she closed her eyes and wondered if she could do it. She wondered if it was worth it to make the effort.
'Mommy.'� A little voice called from the room. Opening her eyes, Sylvia saw beautiful brown eyes looking at her, innocence and hope and love all shining at her from the bleakness of the hospital room.
And then she knew, with a feeling inside her that was as certain as she had ever been about anything. Whatever it took to keep that look in her daughter's eyes, for as long a time as possible, was simply the price of the gift that was Sarah. And it was worth it.

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