Breathe 3
I don't remember leaving the hospital, getting home, or going to bed. The next morning when I woke up, I reached for Susan and couldn't find her... then the memories came flooding back. I began to cry. A few minutes later, Leigh came in.
"David? I heard you were awake. David... I'm so sorry... so sorry. This is the last thing I ever thought would happen." She sat on the bed and held me as I cried. She told me Mom and Dad were on the way. She had called Susan's parents as well. I felt lost, totally unmoored from reality. She was talking, but I only got bits and pieces.
I moved out to the couch, Leigh turned on the TV and I watched whatever came on. I only got up when I had to go to the bathroom. It was after noon when Leigh stood in front of the TV, blocking it and getting my attention.
"David! You have things to do! You're an adult, act like one! You have to call the funeral home, you know what she wanted. You have a goddamned baby in the hospital that you need to go see! You have to call work, you have to call her work! Get moving!"
I went through the motions, but only sort of did things. I knew that Susan wanted cremation, so I had that arranged. I cleaned up enough to go to the hospital and held my baby. I couldn't feel anything yet though. I called my work and hers. They all expressed sympathy, but I was numb.
I went home and laid down, but only slept a little. Bad dreams would wake me up, then when I did wake up I realized that they were real. The next morning my sister found me sitting on the couch, TV on, staring at nothing. She gave me a dirty look, and I went back to the TV.
Suddenly, I was on my side on the couch and my face hurt like hell. I looked up at her and she had her arm cocked back to slap me again. "Are you going to join the living today? You gotta pick up your baby at the hospital. You gotta talk to her parents. Shit, David, you have to name your child! You aren't dead, David. She is, and I'm sorry, but you have things that you have to do!" She was crying as she said this. I gotta say, the pain did help me focus. I knew what she was saying was true.
"Susan."
"What? She's dead!"
"The baby. She's Susan. Susan Leigh, actually."
"David... are you sure?"
"Completely."
I got up and managed to put myself together. A shower and clean clothes helped a lot. We picked her parents up at their hotel, and after a few tears went to the hospital to pick up my child. Our child. Susan.
I discussed Susan's wishes with her parents, and we agreed on several things. They wanted a share of her ashes, and I agreed. We would have a very simple ceremony the next day for just family and close friends. My parents would be here by then. We were not particularly religious, so it would be without any references. That night, we all went out to eat after my parents came in. Susan (the baby) slept through it, but the rest of us just talked, cried, and laughed a little. It was cathartic for me.
When we all got home, I picked Susan up from her car seat. I stared in her face, finding there was a lot of familiarity there. Susan wasn't completely gone from my life, part of her was right here with me. I hugged that little baby like my life depended on it, because it a way it did. My sister offered to let her sleep in her room, but I wanted her near me. It was just the beginning of healing, but it was a beginning.
Once it was all over, we found that with her life insurance and everything else we had a house that was paid for. Little Susan was getting Social Security, which went into an account for her education. My life was emptier, but it continued.
Time went by. The first time my sister and I tried to make love, it was more crying than anything else. We got through oral, but that was all I could manage. I drove myself into work, and while it earned me a promotion it really meant nothing to me. I held my daughter every night and told her I loved her. She was my only bright spot. Time passed.
Shortly after her third birthday, she was talking up a storm. My sister had become "Mama Leigh" and I was just Daddy. On a Saturday morning, my sister was making pancakes and Suzie-Q (as we started calling her, I just couldn't call her Susan) was chattering at her. She called her Mama, and my sister quietly told her she was Mama Leigh. Every day we took time to show her pictures of her mother and tell stories, so she knew. Suzie-Q looked up at her and said, "Mama said it was ok to call you Mama too!"
"You talk to your Mama?"
"She talk when I'm seepin'"
"You have dreams, oh, ok. It's fine, baby."
"She mad at Daddy. He won't open th' door."
When I heard that, I stopped, frozen. I had been having a repetitive dream, starting several weeks after Susan had passed. I was in a room, shabby and old, and there was a banging on the door. I was scared to answer, and the banging just got louder and louder until I woke up. It brought chills to me. I looked at my sister and she was literally white. She had a white-knuckled grip on the counter. Her mouth was open and nothing was coming out. We stared at each other for a moment, then began to move again. We had breakfast and didn't talk again until after lunch.
"David... I... I need to talk to you."
"Wait. Let me guess. You've been having dreams, one where you're in a room and someone keeps knocking... it just gets louder and louder until it wakes you up."
"Oh my god... you too?!"
"Yeah."
"What now?"
"I don't know if a conscious decision will have an effect, but I'm going to try to open the damn door. I never know when it will happen, but... next time...."
Our little Suzie-Q didn't say anything else strange for a few days, but one night I was out, exhausted after a particularly hard day at work. I had 'the dream'... somehow, my conscious thoughts did make it through, and when the door started banging I went to open it. I was as scared as I have ever been, but I opened the door.
Susan flew into the room and hugged me. I
felt
