The Logic of Loyalty (Formerly Would've Should've Could've)

16 - Would've Could've Should've Part 1

My back aches from my rigid, unmoving stance when the old clock in the corner shows three in the morning. Sitting in the rarely used chair in our living room for hours has taught me an important lesson—we need to burn this thing. However, it has given me something other than a backache tonight. It's given me a prime position to sit and contemplate the last thirty-six hours and a place to admire the beauty of my sleeping, pregnant wife.

Foolishly, when I first entered the house, I rushed to our bedroom, out of my mind with the bone-deep need to lay eyes on her. Everything was off-kilter from the moment the words car accident...Subaru...and finally, most damningly, Paige left Billy's mouth and infiltrated my every thought. So when I slammed into our room and saw her usual spot in the middle of the bed was empty, and that the bed was made, my heart froze in my chest. I didn't stop to think. I tore through the closet trying to recognize the loss of her favorite dresses, jackets, or button down shirts. Then I ransacked her drawers, tossing everything around to locate her most used shirts or see how much of her underwear was missing. It was a stupid thing to do. I couldn't tell, and that only made me dizzy with a new fear. My head swam, so I sat down at the edge of the bed, stared into the open closet, and breathed. Deeply in two three four, and out two three four.

I had to fight with myself to stay calm and seated. My entire being was tense and primed, muscles twitching with the need to move. My mind cycled through every conceivable possibility that could have happened to her, or all the places she could go. There weren't many. I continued to breathe, Paige's voice in my head counting it out in her soft way. In two three four, out two three four. My eyes moved from the open closet door and drifted to my fists, clenched on my thighs. I started the breathing process over and over again, allowing my eyes to take in the details of her presence rather than her absence. There, on the bedside table, lay her kindle, still sitting on the charger. Her robe remained draped over the seat which nestled at the table she does her morning skin routine. I mentally catalogued every finer detail until my heart stopped beating in a frantic staccato.

I realized something devastating in those moments of silence. It was a comfort and a slap all at once. There was no way Paige would sleep in our bed if she truly believed I had betrayed her. My movements were slow, my body moving with an uncoordinated but automatic rhythm as I reorganized her things. A dress straightened on a hanger; shirts lined up Marie Kondo style in the drawers. The drawer slid shut with a silent push, marking the final step before I make my way to see Paige choosing the couch over the comfort of our bed after a day of overwhelming, emotional upheaval.

I left the room, shutting the door with a quiet click, and padded barefoot into the living room. I wasn't surprised when I came across her wild curls flowing over the arm of the couch; a fuzzy blanket, normally reserved for fall and winter, was draped over her, leaving only a small portion of her face and her mane of hair uncovered. I stood directly next to her for a beat, taking in the dark circles lining her puffy eyes, likely—hopefully—more prominent in the shadows left from the dull glow of a lone lamp left on in the corner. My hands twitched with the need to caress her sweet face, but instead, I took a step back towards the corner of the room.

That's where I currently sit, hours later.

Unbidden, another sickening bolt of pain and guilt tears through the entirety of my body. My poor Paige did nothing to deserve what happened to her. My eyes drift over her for the millionth time, stopping at the gentle swell of her belly, barely visible through the blanket. Likely only visible to me.

She was going to tell me during the fireworks.

Another Baby.

A mix of joy and absolute terror fill me, adding to the mess of my head.