Torn

37.

     I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.  I felt an emptiness, as if part of my soul was missing.  I had hardly been out of bed for the last two days.  My son, Sawyer, was still at the NICU where he would remain for a few more weeks until he gained enough weight to come home.  He was a tiny three pound 2 ounce baby.  He had to be a minimum of five pounds to come home.  Five pounds!  I bet Bennie's food bowl weighed more than that!

     God how was I going to do this alone?  I was so depressed.  I knew that I had to get up.  I had a funeral to attend today.

     I finally hauled my ass out of bed and walked over to the dresser.  Mike had helped me move my things to his place.  It was too hard to stay at my place once Mila had died.  I couldn't face that alone.

     We brought the crib and all the baby stuff that Mila had collected to Mike's and set it up in the spare room that I was now currently occupying.  I looked at it all and then stared into the mirror.  My eyes were bloodshot and had huge bags under them.  My hair was a stringy mess and my normally pale complexion was even paler if that were at all possible.  I looked like absolute shit.

     A soft knock came to my bedroom door.  

     "Josh?  Can I come in?"  Mike asked quietly from the other side of the door.

     I continued to stare at my image in the mirror, but at the same time, not really seeing  it.

     "Yeah."  Cautiously, he opened the door and stepped into the room.  He wore a black suit with a navy blue tie.  His brown eyes were extremely sad.  He had loved her too at one time.  No matter what our differences, I knew that I was not alone in my pain.  But, that knowledge brough me no comfort.

     "We have to go soon."  Mike fidgeted with his tie.  "Are you alright?  I mean... oh hell, I have no idea what I mean.  I am here for you if you need me, alright?"  He asked nervously.

     I looked over at him and nodded.  "I'll be ready soon.  Just let me shower and change."

     With a sympathetic glance, Mike nodded and quietly left the room.

     I once again turned my attention to the mirror.   "Why Mila?  If this was some kind of payback or whatever, then why not me?  I am the one going through hell here, not her!"  I punched the mirror as hard as I could.  Glass splintered and fell to the dresser.  Bright red blood oozed from my wound.  I swore softly under my breath.  I picked up my suit, carefully as to not drip any blood on it, and headed for the shower.